A/N: Ah, the joy of having four days holiday through Easter - I don't have to wait until I get home to post up more of this story!

As its title suggests, there's some more serious angst to come, for both Jon and Trip. Hopefully, I'll get that chapter posted tomorrow.

Aftermath

Chapter Eight - The Calm Before The Storm

Even in his darkest hours, and God knew, he'd had plenty of them, Jon had never considered suicide. The thought of being in such despair as to kill himself had been too appalling to even contemplate. So he could only imagine what his closest friend had just been through. What thoughts were passing now, behind the eyes that stared blankly up at him.

Then again, much of that blankness came from the meds that still held Trip under a gentle, healing sedation. As Phlox had explained, he wouldn't be fully lucid for several more hours, at least. Then, he'd gently warned, he would start to remember. From his expression alone, Jon knew how painfully hard that moment would be. In fear for what it might lead to, he was dreading it.

For now, though, Trip was slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings. Until he gained the strength to yell at him, or hit him, or whatever else he felt justified to do – well, the guilt and regret that was still crushing Jon's conscience would just have to stay there.

His only comfort, that he'd also gladly cling to, was the hand that Trip was still allowing him to hold. Throughout that night, he'd held onto it. Refused to let it go, even when he, too, had drifted to sleep. So he'd been unaware of the first time that Trip had woken, if briefly, and recognized where he was. When he'd seen him sitting, sprawled asleep at his side, and felt the contact that brought him so much comfort.

As Phlox had gently explained, before he'd drifted back to sleep, he'd been there all night. All night.

Staring down at it now, for what felt to Jon like an eternity, Trip then slowly raised his eyes again, frowning against the grogginess that was turning memory and reality into a dizzyingly confusing blur.

"You're st – st'll h're?"

Seeing that frown through rather different eyes, Jon forced out what he hoped was a calming, placating smile. He'd spent hours waiting for this moment. Thinking, then re-thinking, what he'd say when it came. Now that it had… well, God help him if he said, or did, or just implied, anything that screwed it up.

"Yes, Trip, I am. Here where I need to be… where I should have been, long before now."

As peace offering first words went, he'd spoken them it as sincerely as he could. Stressed the word that had to make its point. Silently prayed that it would be enough. And winced now, as Trip just nodded, and closed his eyes. While not unexpected, it was the reaction he'd dreaded, and… no, he couldn't let it end like this.

"Trip, if – if you want me to go, I will. I'll understand, I'll do whatever you want," he said at last, taking a deep breath, before adding what he needed to say, and what he hoped Trip would agree to hear. "But I'm hoping with everything I have, Trip, that you'll want me to stay."

Five seconds passed. Then five more. And still the response he'd hoped so much to see failed to come. Yet again, Trip was a world away from him. Not just in sleep, but so far beyond it, and damn it!

Resigned now, to the message that he was silently sending him, he started to rise from his seat – then sat straight down again, staring with freshly hopeful eyes at the fumbling grip around his wrist. To his greater amazement, Trip's eyes had opened again, revealing a further storm of emotions.

Relief. Hope. Gratitude. And fear, that grew deeper, through near desperation, into a barely audible plea.

"St-St'y. Ne'd – need to talk."

Despite all the years they'd known each other, Jon stared at his friend, in equal parts of pride and astonishment. Just hours after waking from his coma, after everything he'd been through, Trip wanted to talk now?

No, however badly they both wanted to start resolving their differences, it was surely too soon. But then he'd failed to take into account one of Trip Tucker's most legendary, if exasperating traits. Stubborn as a whole herd of mules? Yes, that was Trip. And if he wanted to talk, then… damn, he'd do it.

"I – I saw her! Jon, she w's th're… she tol' me t' come b'ck."

He was becoming agitated now, using up strength that he needed to heal, and couldn't afford to waste. It made it thankfully easier for Jon to restrain him, but still poignantly hard to calm him down. To see him like this, so sick, and scared, so close to the edge, was almost too much for him to take.

And he'd realized now, who Trip had seen, in that twilight world between his life and his death. God, no wonder he was shaking like a damn leaf. More to the point, how the hell could he stop it?

The answer was astonishingly simple. It came to him, as soon as he saw the fear in Trip's eyes. The protectiveness he'd always felt towards him was at its strongest when he was hurt, or in danger. Hoping that Trip still trusted him enough to respond to it, that big brother streak kicked in again now. And holding him didn't just help to calm him down, it also started to rebuild the bond between them.

"Yes, Trip, I know. We've both got a lot to talk about. I have so much to apologize for," he said gently, so aware of the nine years between them, this strange vulnerability, that made Trip seem even younger.

"But right now, you need to sleep. It's okay, Trip, I'll be here… right here… just go back to sleep."

He resisted it. He fought it, defied it, and refused to give in to it – just as Jon proudly knew he would. Finally, though, exhaustion, and the gentle pull of sedatives won, and coaxed Trip back into a healing haven of dreams. Watching him settle, Jon could only hope they'd be a lot more peaceful than those he'd had before.

Had it been a dream, though? A figment of Trip's imagination? Or had it been something else?

Knowing the answer to that already, Jon sighed, rubbing his eyes at the thought of yet another bridge to cross. Like all the others, he'd cross it when he came to it. Quietly hope that Trip would cross it with him. But, for now, while he had the chance to do so, he'd just sit here quietly, and watch Trip sleep.

The calm, he dryly realized, before he'd face one hell of a storm.