A/N: When I finished this story, there were originally twelve chapters. But then my wonderful plot bunnies gave me a few more ideas for a different ending. So there'll be two more chapters after this one. No, really, I *think* they're happy now. Nothing worse than an unhappy plot bunny.

After the lighter moments in the previous chapter, Jon and Trip need to get back to some unfinished business. And since it will be rather tricky for both of them, I thought they'd appreciate seeing a friendly face, before they have to deal with it.

Enjoy!

Aftermath

Chapter Twelve - Promises Kept

To the rest of their crew, the sight of their Captain and chief engineer walking together wasn't unusual. Whether teasing each other, solving the latest threat against them or, as now, in deep conversation – well, to the men and women who served under their command, they saw these variations every day.

If they'd looked closer, though, they might have seen subtle differences. A silent, private re-bonding. They'd have seen the hand that rested on Trip's shoulder. The unvoiced appreciation on Trip's face. Noticed how protectively Jon was watching him, as if he couldn't bear to let him out of his sight.

Of course, he had almost died. Again. To them, at least, that explained their Captain's behaviour. It was a natural reaction, from one friend to another, to care about their wellbeing. But for one of the people who knew the full story, Jonathan Archer's actions meant so much more.

En route to the armoury, Malcolm Reed saw these subtle gestures, and understood them all. He kept his own emotions to himself, but now he greeted his Captain with an approving smile, that grew even warmer as he turned towards Trip.

"Good to have you back, Commander."

Seeing no reason to read any more into such a natural gesture, Trip returned it just as easily - taking his usual lead against that quieter British reserve, and giving Malcolm a friendly slap on the arm.

"Thanks, Malcolm. It's good to be back."

To Trip's surprise, though not so much his Captain's, Malcolm seemed reluctant to leave it at that. Of course, staring death in the face together had formed a close bond between two polar opposite personalities. Or maybe it was Trip's more sociable nature, rubbing off on him. But for whatever reason, Malcolm now cast both caution and the protocol of rank aside, and addressed his senior officer with rather less formality than usual.

"I'm… glad you're all right, Trip."

The hesitation through his words had passed through less than a second. But the expression on his face, and Trip's thoughts of when they'd last seen each other, gave it a weighty significance. Brought a special meaning to the relief, and gratitude, that passed silently between them.

For Jon, of course, there was another glance of private understanding, before Malcolm left them, and headed off on his way. It had been the briefest exchange between them, and he'd been sure that Trip hadn't seen it. A quiet question reminded him, through a rueful smile, that he should have known better.

"I'm guessin' he knows, Jon, an' I'm fine with that. But does anyone else know about… well, where you found me? How far gone I was?"

More convinced than ever now, that his friend had several more senses than just five, Jon smiled. A psychic chief engineer? The thought was a scary one. But then he recognized the genuine concern behind Trip's question. Could the people who served under him still trust a CO who'd tried to kill himself? He turned completely serious to answer it.

"Yes, Trip, he knows. He was the one who… well, gave me one hell of a heads up. He even helped me to try and find you, but… well, we did it alone. No-one else knew what was happening then, Trip, and they still don't. It was just me and Malcolm. No one else."

"Yeah, after seein' me in that airlock, I kinda knew he would. I knew that line about microbreaches was never gonna fool him," Trip agreed, his voice equally quiet, but still holding a rueful humour as he shook his head. To Jon's relief, there was no anger or resentment in his eyes. Just silent gratitude. Accepting calm. "And I'm guessin' Phlox does too, with that whole doctor/patient thing?"

There was a hint of smile on his face now. And Jon was more than happy to return it.

"Yes, Trip, he knows too. I… uh, felt he had to. But that's it, there's no one else. It's just between us."

Half way through an approving nod, Trip's eyes then narrowed into puzzled, questioning frown. As third in command, he'd waited for a name that he'd expected to hear, but that had been notably absent. As a friend who'd also sensed the tension beside him, he had to find out why, so he could try to dispel it.

"Not T'Pol?"

There was no outward sign of its increase, but Trip still felt it. Heard it subtly change the tone of Jon's reply.

"No, Trip, I didn't tell her. A bit better late than never, but… well, I had to put your interests first. Made sure I protected them, and you."

Okay, so he had his answer. But from the edge in Jon's voice, Trip was still far from happy with it. And if it took stopping them dead in their tracks, folding his arms, and glaring at his Captain, until he answered him fully – well, even if it meant getting busted down to janitor, cleaning out the heads with a toothbrush, he'd do it.

Knowing this was a stand off that he was just never going to win, Jon smiled. He had no idea how Trip did this - relieving the stress that the demands of command constantly placed on him. He was just damn glad he was still around to do it.

"I was all ready, Trip, to grant her asylum, but… well, T'Pol talked me out of it," he said at last, giving Trip's shoulder a grateful squeeze of acknowledgement as they resumed their walk. "To her cost, and yours, I made that decision as a bit too much like a Vulcan, and not enough as a human being."

A point that Trip might have furiously hurled back at him four days ago. But now? No. Not quite so much. A lot had changed since then. He'd changed.

"Aw, c'mon, Jon! You couldn't have known what she was gonna do any more than I did!"

Another fair point. And the more he considered it, the more Trip realized what he had to say next.

"'sides, T'Pol was right, and so were you. I had no right to interfere, tryin' to tell 'em how to live their lives."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You were acting for the best intentions," Jon reminded him, realizing this was the long overdue time to lift some of that burdening blame from Trip's shoulders. "I've got to take responsibility for that too, Trip. I could…I should, have given her asylum."

Aaah, that wonderful hindsight again. Still, at least Trip now appreciated the position he'd been in.

"At the cost of losing the Vissians' friendship? Such a potentially valuable ally?"

Wincing at the poignant irony, Jon tried, but failed, to keep the crack of bitterness out of his voice.

"The cost was almost so much more, Trip. And however badly we need allies out here, your life is a price I'll never be prepared to pay."

Well, Trip thought dryly, if that wasn't the perfect way to end that little debate. With perfect timing, too. So absorbed in their discussion, neither of them had noticed that they'd reached their destination.

Coming to its doors, Trip paused, running his fingers over the controls that finally opened them. All he needed now was the courage to step through them. It came through the hand on his shoulder. The voice that carried him into the launch bay, and to where he'd finally complete his healing.

"It's okay, Trip. I'm right beside you."