A/N: Hmm, for a moment there, I thought I'd broken the site! Still, everything looks to be fixed now, so here's today's chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Aftermath

Chapter Nine - Fight Or Flight

Coffee, and quiet voices around him, slowly pulled Trip out of his dreams, and away from the Gulf's breathtaking coastline. The dive he'd been enjoying through its crystal clear waters had been so real, so vivid. So… normal. Totally different to the last place he'd been, where he'd…

…no, its memories had already slipped away.

A world away, too, from the brightness, and puzzling sights, that now slid in to take their place.

That a face now emerged from it felt oddly familiar too, tugging at a frustratingly sluggish mind. But like all the other fragments that were still not quite connecting, that memory also eluded him.

He still recognized it, though. And, if still weakly, he managed to return its encouraging smile. Even if he was sick, or injured, if Jon was beside him, then everything had to be okay. And that coffee smelled good too. Really good.

Jon had clearly seen the longing in his eyes, and was finding it hard to resist it, since he now turned to seek his CMO's approval. When it came, he returned it with a broad grin, before he turned back to Trip, and slid a gentle arm under his shoulders to support him.

"Slowly now, Trip, it's still hot. Just a bit at a time… slowly now, that's it."

Pushing those still niggling images out of his mind, Trip lay trustingly against him. For now, at least, he accepted Jon's presence, his comfort and encouragement, while he slowly drank the rest of his coffee. It tasted wonderful, too, although the alertness it brought him soon became as much a curse as it was a blessing.

Jon could already see it, in the way Trip's eyes changed through their now familiar war of emotions. Memories that he just wasn't strong enough to face yet were returning. He was starting to remember.

Through anger and pain, regret and bitter fury, he was remembering it. All of it. Every damn moment. And in that split second of cognizance, the quiet harmony between them came to a crashing end.

For Jon, it was a heartbreaking repeat of their first confrontation, as Trip's eyes blazed back to life. Shoving a now thankfully empty cup away from him, his next words burned with the same contempt.

"G't the hell 'way from me!"

As soft and weak as they were, those words were like knives through Jonathan Archer's heart. For several moments, he just sat there, helplessly caught between Trip's fury, and how to respond to it. If he did this, if he walked away now, that would be it. His fight to save their friendship would be lost.

He'd lose something so special, so precious and unique, that was also completely irreplaceable. And however angry he was, he knew Trip would eventually realize it too, and bitterly regret it. So when he saw Phlox's subtlest nod of encouragement, Jon knew what he was silently telling him.

'Fight for it, Captain. If his friendship means anything to you at all, fight for it. Fight for him.'

Buoyed by fresh resolve, Jon re-met those fiercely bright eyes, took a deep breath, and made his stand.

"You've every right to be angry, Trip. God knows, I've had this coming," he said at last, bracing himself for the furious, gut kicking response that he'd already resigned himself to receive. "And you can wish me to burn in hell too, if you want to, but… no. No, Trip. I'm not leaving."

Now it was Trip's turn to stare into a face, into piercing eyes, that were clearly determined to defy him. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Yet, in truth, it was also the reaction he'd silently hoped for. It meant he hadn't imagined those words of comfort. What he'd thought had been an 'if only' dream.

'Whatever happens, Trip, we'll face it together… I'm with you, Trip… I'll get you through this…'

Jon still believed in him. Still believed their friendship was worth saving. That he was worth saving. And just as Jon had heard Phlox's voice in his mind, so Trip now felt her presence again in his own.

\Listen to him, Trip. I've forgiven you, so you can forgive yourself. Now do the same for him./

Overwhelmed now by her legacy, what he'd sworn to do for her, Trip felt his anger, all of his senses, reel. Even more turmoil joined them as he looked into Jon's eyes, and saw the silent challenge within them.

Nine years of priceless friendship, set against those few moments of madness that had torn their worlds apart.

Their consequences had pushed him to go through utter hell. Forced him to make the ultimate decision. After what he'd just been through… hell, this decision to just lie back and listen would be a cakewalk.

All well and good for him, of course. Less so for the friend who, he realized, looked like death himself.

'Damn, Cap'n! When the hell did you get so old?'

Guilty concern continued to niggle him for several moments, before calmer, if wry inner reason, dispelled it. There'd been more than enough self destructive blame already. Well, it ended here, and it ended now.

"If I could, Cap'n, I'd deck you right now. When I get outta here, I may still do it," he said at last, allowing himself the merest hint of a smile, to return the delight and relief that now lit up Jon's face.

Still wondering what the hell had just happened, Jon then grinned. Damn, what the hell did it matter? In his eyes, and from his CMO's equally proud smile, all that mattered was a quiet offer of conciliation.

"But if you're good with the talkin' here, Cap'n, then… yeah, I'm good wi' the listenin'…"

Settling back into his pillows, and against the lulling tug of his meds, he then added a wry grin that was worth its weight in dilithium.

"Though you might wanna get a move on, b'fore I conk out on ya."