A/N: Well, here we are, at the penultimate chapter. You know the hardest job I've had posting it? Trying to think up a suitable title! But then I turned on the radio, and with perfect timing, I heard the most fitting song, whose title just says it all. So, here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

Aftermath

Chapter Thirteen - Stand By Me

The launch bay was just as Trip had last seen it. To his eyes, though, it seemed… smaller. Almost claustrophobic. Or maybe it was because those eyes were focussed so intently on just one sight inside it.

Shuttlepod One. The spacecraft where he'd lived out dreams of his childhood, and one of the nightmares of the adult life he'd chosen to take. Just a few months ago, he'd almost died inside it. Helpless, and inwardly terrified, he'd come to a final, desperate decision.

Four days ago, through wholly different circumstances, he'd come here again. To commit the same, unthinkable act. To end his life, by his own hand.

Now, he'd come here to heal. With so many scars on his psyche, it wasn't going to be easy.

Realising this was something he had to do himself, Jon reluctantly released his hand from Trip's shoulder. More than ever now, the instinct to protect him was overwhelming, but - no. He had to let Trip go, let him find his own way through this, while he had to find a delicate balance. How to stay close enough to support him, but at enough of a distance to give him the space he needed.

He needed movement, too. The freedom to walk around, unhindered, until he reached where he had to go.

'As long as it takes,' Jon reminded himself, watching Trip start his journey towards that moment. A slow, silent circuit around the launch bay. 'As much time as he wants. All the space that he needs. And all the support I can give him.'

Lost in thoughts and memories, Trip glanced slowly around him, then back at that tiny capsule. Had it really been four days ago? Just four days? Had he really come here to kill himself? Had he really been that desperate, to do something so completely out of character?

Another memory answered that last question for him. Made him turn his eyes to a different direction. The wall beyond Jon's shoulder, where a glass thrown in blind, violent fury had shattered against it. There'd been nothing inside it, thankfully, but it would have still created one hell of a mess. Not to mention an unwelcome hazard for whoever had to clear it up.

Something more than his conscience compelled him to that small but fateful space. Dropping to his heels, Trip studied it for several moments, trying to picture a scene that was no longer there. Shards of shattered glass, to mirror an equally shattered friendship. A sobering thought, that made him frown, and bow his head in silent remorse. Not exactly one of his proudest moments.

Nothing there now, though. Everything was as it should be. All back to normal. It brought him comfort he still wasn't sure he deserved.

He'd assumed that task had fallen to one of the maintenance teams. A quiet voice put him gently straight, and made him gratefully smile.

"Once I knew you were out of danger… well, I needed to do something useful. I owed you that much, Trip, at the very least. And I'm pretty sure I got it all."

As he'd hoped, the chagrin on Trip's face changed into a grin of sheepish gratitude. To his greater surprise, it lifted even further, into a flash of humour that both of them welcomed.

"Thank God for that. I was all ready to get down here with a dustpan an' brush."

"I'll remember that the next time Porthos tries to wreck my ready room," Jon shot back, grinning too.

His next thoughts, though, were more serious. He just needed his eyes, a gentle smile, to convey them.

'It's okay, Trip, just take your time. I'll be here.'

Smiling back at him, Trip nodded. Still gently fingering that patch of wall, he straightened up again. As Jon noted, his eyes were clear again. A bright and calm blue.

Almost there. He was almost ready.

A few more steps brought him back to the Shuttlepod. Slowly, thoughtfully, he touched it. Smiled slightly, as if he were re-connecting with an old friend. Running his hand over its side-hatch, he calmly opened it – unstopped this time – and carefully eased himself through.

As he'd done on that fateful day, Jon cautiously followed him. For reasons he didn't yet understand, Trip was staring up at the access hatch above them. Through a reflective smile, he finally spoke. A soft, hesitant admission.

"For the second time in my life, Jon, I – I almost died here."

Recalling that nearly disastrous mission for himself, Jon nodded, but resisted the urge to reply. It was just as well, because the shocking significance of Trip's next words left him speechless.

"I – I don't know if Malcolm ever told you, but… well, maybe a bit more honourably, I tried to do it here too."

Still struggling to come to terms with what he'd just heard, Jon could only stare back at him. No, Malcolm hadn't told him a thing about this. Come to think of it, both he and Trip had been strangely reluctant to talk about their ordeal. Met with the same silence now, he tried to find the most obvious reason behind it.

"You – You tried to kill yourself? What, from the hypothermia? You were hallucinating?"

His thoughts understandably elsewhere, Trip finally turned to face him with a slight, almost shy smile.

"Well, no. Not exactly. An' I only get the crazies when I get stuck in a desert," he said at last, the warmth in his eyes taking away the pang of guilt Jon felt for that other, regrettable memory. But as he recalled how close he'd come to dying through such another extreme, the smile faded. The voice grew quieter.

"We were freezin' to death, Jon. Runnin' out of air, not even sure you'd find us in time, and…"

Glancing back up at the hatch above them, he then paused. Waited for Jon to do the same. To put two and two together. To understand. And as realization left him speechless once more, he softly confirmed his Captain's horrified thoughts.

"I knew if there was just one of us usin' that air, at least that person would have a chance to survive. So I crawled up into the airlock, an' told Malcolm what I was gonna do."

Another pause, followed by another flash of bittersweet memory.

"Don't have to tell you, Jon, that was a big mistake. Next thing I know, he's pointin' a phaser at me, threatenin' to shoot me if I didn't come down. Then we had what you'd call a full an' frank trade of views. I said things to him that… God, Jon, I'd give anythin' to take back. But whether I deserved it or not, he - he saved my life that day. Like you, he's… uh… kinda good at that."

Suddenly drained, Trip fell silent once more. Settling onto the seat behind him, he shuffled over so that Jon could sit beside him. Finally, he met Jon's eyes, waiting almost nervously for his reaction.

He had a long wait. For thirty clear seconds, Jon could only stare at him, torn between shock, pride, and complete disbelief. Such selfless bravery shouldn't have surprised him, of course, but after everything Trip had just been through – damn, it was taking all of his concentration to digest another bombshell that rocked him even more.

"That's what I was gonna do, Jon. Fly myself outta here, climb into that airlock, then blow the hatch."

It hadn't happened, of course. Malcolm had seen the first, foiled attempt he'd made to kill himself, and seen straight through the lamest excuse since 'the dog ate my homework.' He'd also given his Captain, as he'd so uniquely put it, a damn good kick up the arse to get his act together, and start that vital search.

As Trip now softly told him, straight into his eyes, he owed them both a lifetime's debt of gratitude.

"I – I know I didn' appreciate it at the time, but… God, Jon… thank God he saw me in that airlock. And thank God you were there to stop me."

His eyes had been clear, full of emotions, but surprisingly free of tears. Jon's eyes, though, were full of them. The astonishment he'd felt for what Trip had just told him was matched only by immeasurable pride. The courage it had taken for Trip to say those words left him humbled. And it could only lead to one conclusion.

Finally, inevitably, Trip's eyes started to fill too. The defences beyond them started to break down. From the slightest change in his expression, Jon's arms wrapped themselves around him. Held him, supported him, as one of the bravest people he'd ever known fell apart against him.

He could do nothing more, to stop what had to happen. Not just for Trip, but for him too. They both needed this. A moment of mutual healing, that stretched into several minutes.

Terrified apologies, whispered onto a shoulder.

"I - I tried to kill myself! Oh, God, Jon, I - I don' even know if I wanted to do it. If I really wanted to do it, an'… God, Jon, I - I'm sorry… I'm sorry… 'm sorry…"

Quiet forgiveness, whispered in return.

"I know, Trip. I know. It's okay, Trip, I'm here. We're going to get through this, the same as we've come through everything else. Together, Trip. It's okay, I'm not going anywhere."

It took several more minutes for these words to reach a broken, terrified soul. Then, at last, he felt the first change. Trip's breathing steadied back into normalcy. Shifting against him, he finally started to push himself away.

The first thing he saw was a gently proud smile. A silently anxious question, answered by a tired but equally determined nod.

'Yeah. I'm gonna get there. I'm going to be okay.'

Not doubting that for a moment now, Jon smiled back. He was more proud of his friend than he'd ever been. Than he was ever likely to be. And, when he finally let Trip go, he offered a suggestion that both of them needed.

"I don't know about you, Trip, but I need a drink. A really stiff drink."

"Assumin' you don't get me too hungover on it… yeah, I - I think I'll join you," Trip agreed, his voice still betraying how badly that drink was needed. But then he smiled. One of the bravest smiles that Jonathan Archer had ever seen, that turned his own sombre mood into grateful laughter.

"An' I promise you, Cap'n… I won't be throwin' any more glasses."