A Life Worth Living- Epilogue

A LIFE WORTH LIVING

By Gabi

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst

Summary: What if both Trip and Sim had survived the transplantation? Takes place during Similitude

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own the characters and I don't make any money with this story.

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Epilogue

"The most difficult test facing any captain, any crew is the loss of a shipmate. We've come here to honor one of our own. In the time we knew him he showed us just how much one life can truly matter. We willl never forget what he did for us and for the ship he loved so much. We will go forward with renewed determination to complete this mission so that his sacrifice won't just have been for the people on this ship but for all the citizens on Earth."

Trip listened to the captain's words, his gaze steadily fixed on the torpedo tube where Sim lay. Phlox had understood his wish to stand during the ceremony and had given him a pair of crutches so he would be able to do so. As it was, the crutches were now lying across the wheelchair that stood next to the wall and not even Phlox' stern looks could keep Trip from standing at attention without any aids. He was glad that his legs had already healed enough so that he was able to do so at least for a while. His lower left leg was still splinted up to his knee, but when Phlox had removed the splints from his right leg this morning, Trip had tried to stand up as soon as the doctor had gone out the door. The experiment went amazingly well, although he hadn't been able to take more than one or two unsteady steps. When the ceremony had begun, Malcolm and Travis had hovered beside him, not really convinced that he was able to stand alone, and both were ready to lend him a supporting hand should he sway. When they both had to take their places beside the coffin, Hoshi unobtrusively stepped up to his side, if only to give him some moral support. His legs were hurting, but the physical pain wasn't as bad as the emotional one. His eyes were dry, but his heart was crying. Crying for his friend, his brother, for the man who had understood him like no other ever had, the man who had given his life for him not only once but twice.

Trip's face was motionless as he watched Malcolm and Travis close the coffin, only the way he bit down on his lips to prevent them from trembling betrayed his emotions. When the tube was shot into space, he felt Hoshi's hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

Trip didn't notice the shy glances of sympathy some crew members gave him. No one dared to disturb his silent mourning. Eventually, Trip felt Travis slide the crutches under his arms. "I don't think Sim would have wanted you to collapse at his ceremony," the ensign said softly.

Trip nodded thankfully and tried to gather his thoughts, which were still out there with Sim. He was still staring at the torpedo port when the crew started to leave.

Malcolm approached. "I think I'll get you back to sickbay," he said but Trip didn't react.

"Trip?" Malcolm touched his arm.

Trip flinched, almost losing his balance.

"Come on, Trip, sit down."

With Travis' help Malcolm settled Trip in the wheelchair, worriedly studying his friend, whose mind was still miles away. Suddenly, the captain was at their side, nodding to his officers.

"I'll get him back."

Offering no resistance, Trip allowed the captain to wheel him along the corridors. He was hardly able to see his surroundings through the haze that clouded his vision, but suddenly he realized where they were heading.

"Please, Jon, don't take me to sickbay, I don't think I can stand bein' there right now. Sickbay is much too crowded."

Jon frowned. He understood perfectly well that Trip wanted to be alone now and that the daily routine in sickbay would be unsettling for him. On the other hand he doubted that Phlox would agree to release his patient just now. Not after the stunt he had pulled in the armory.

"But you need to get some rest," he tried to convince his friend. "I don't think that Phlox was overly pleased with you standing there without crutches during the whole ceremony. I'm sure you're in pain right now."

"Phlox gave me some analgesics to help me through it. He's been very kind."

"He knows what Sim meant to you." Archer considered, thoughtfully looking at Trip's slumped shoulders. "Okay, I'll take you to your quarters and take the responsibility when Phlox wants to know where you are. He will have my head."

"Thanks, Cap'n."

After taking him to his quarters, Archer helped Trip getting out of his shoes. With raised eyebrows he noticed that Trip hadn't fastened the lacing on his right boot. The ankle wasn't swollen anymore, but Archer was willing to bet that wearing boots was still sort of uncomfortable if not painful for Trip. As he carefully pulled the right boot from the ankle, Trip gritted his teeth.

"You are in pain," Archer realized.

"It's not so bad as long as I don't move my legs."

"And don't stand on them," Archer added, helping Trip to settle down in bed. "Do you want me to help you get out of your uniform?"

"No, just leave it as it is." Trip didn't tell the captain that he was reluctant to touch his legs since every movement sent bolts of pain through them, but Archer saw right through him.

"I'm sure Sim wouldn't have minded you sitting in the wheelchair."

Trip knew it had been foolish to put his full weight on his legs but he had had the feeling that he owed Sim that much. He looked at the captain, his mind still troubled. There was another thing that had bothered him over the last two days.

"Cap'n?"

"Hm?"

"I have to ask you somethin'."

"What is it, Trip?"

Trip hesitated for a moment. "I had a discussion with Sim about clonin' and what Starfleet and the people on Earth think about it. He said lettin' him die would be the only way to solve the problems he would cause simply by existin'."

Archer looked at him with a suspicious expression. "Do you want to ask me whether we let Sim die on purpose to avoid the problems his existence would create?"

Trip slowly shrugged, not daring to look into his friend's eyes.

"Do you really believe that, Trip?" Archer sighed and perched himself on the edge of Trip's bunk. "I guess I've lost a lot of the faith you used to have in me, back before Sim." He shifted uncomfortably, but leveled a steady gaze at Trip. "I'm fighting for the safety of Earth. I have to take to desperate measures to do so, even though I'm not proud of it. You know that, Trip. But I can only hope you also know that I would never sacrifice a life just to avoid problems. I would have done everything to save Sim's life, and to hell with Starfleet. I don't care what they say about cloning. I would've been glad to have Sim on board. Please believe me. Besides, Phlox would have never allowed me to throw Sim's life away. Not like that."

Trip nodded slowly, thinking about the captain's words. "Yeah, I believe you." He chewed on his lower lip. "It was a great speech," he said then. "I'm sure Sim would have liked it."

"I meant every word of it." Archer pulled Trip into a gentle hug. "We all miss him, Trip. We were blessed to have him aboard. But we have to look forward. He would want us to."

#####

It was only half an hour later that the door bell chimed and Malcolm entered the room. "I've got something for you." He showed Trip a hypospray. "This is from Phlox to give you a good night's sleep, and this," he raised his other hand in which he held a bottle of bourbon whiskey, "is from the captain in case the analgesic doesn't work."

"I think I can use both. Is Phlox very angry with me?"

"No, I think he understood, completely. He's mourning for Sim as well." Malcolm pressed the hypospray with the analgesic against Trip's neck and released its contents. "If you want to get more comfortable I'll help you with your uniform."

"Thanks. Just let me wait for the painkiller to take effect." Trip watched Malcolm take two glasses out of the cupboard and pour a considerable amount of bourbon into them. Noticing that the pain in his legs had relented, he slid off the sleeves of his uniform and left it to Malcolm to carefully pull the fabric off his legs.

"They look much better than the last time I saw them," Malcolm stated.

Trip cast a glance at his legs. They were healing, but far too slowly for his tastes.

Malcolm knew perfectly well what he was thinking. "You have to be patient," he advised. "They were in very bad shape. Just a few days more and you'll be able to walk again."

"I hope so. What about your shoulder, Malcolm?" Trip asked when Malcolm offered him a glass.

"As good as new."

"The cap'n told me about the osmotic eel."

Malcolm grimaced, put a chair beside Trip's bunk and sat down. "Actually, it wasn't that bad."

"You think so? I'm really glad Phlox kept me sedated during the treatment."

"I guess he knew better than letting you be awake through it," Malcolm said with a teasing glance.

"Hey, are you sayin' that you've got more courage than I do?"

"It's not me who makes such a fuss over a simple eel."

"Yeah, right!" Trip gave Malcolm a mock glare. "I think Sim was right. I'm sure you go to sickbay every day to pet your little friend."

Malcolm laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. But I'm not afraid of an osmotic eel. Nothing can be as bad as drowning."

"You have a point there." Trip looked at Malcolm. "How do you feel about it? Are you havin' nightmares?"

"Actually, I dream about it from time to time, yes. But I can't say they are nightmares. It's a very strange feeling. I know that I'm under water, but I'm not afraid. I see Sim coming down to rescue me and I know he will succeed and there's nothing to be afraid of. It's weird, but in fact, I'm not afraid of the water as long as I'm dreaming. Unfortunately this feeling changes when I'm awake."

"It's not so easy to get over something like that, I think."

"Hm, suppose you're right. And I have to say, my needs for near-death experiences are satisfied for the time being." Malcolm allowed himself a smile, then he looked at Trip, considering. "I saw my father down there."

"Your father?"

"Yeah, I was hallucinating. He told me to simply let go and surrender. But then my great-uncle came and told me to hang on. That my friends would come to rescue me."

Trip smiled, taking a sip from the bourbon. "I have to say I like your great-uncle's attitude better."

Malcolm stared into the golden fluid. "He was right. My great-uncle, I mean. My friends did come to rescue me. At some cost to themselves."

"Don't feel guilty about it, Malcolm."

"Sim sacrificed his life for us."

"I know. And he told me not to mourn too long for him but to go on. We have to find the Xindi and prevent another attack on Earth. I think that is what Sim would want us to do." Trip sighed, the same feeling of guilt still nagging at the back of his mind. "Do you think we should have kept a closer watch on him, Malcolm?"

Malcolm looked at him, knowing exactly what Trip was talking about. "Perhaps. If we had known about his weak heart."

"Should we've been more suspicious that somethin' was wrong with him? I mean, I was worried about his exhaustion but I thought it was because his body wasn't used to the exertion."

"Yes, that was what I thought as well. Don't blame yourself, Trip. You had no way of knowing."

Trip slowly nodded, thinking. "Y'know, I was so glad that Sim had survived surgery. I thought I couldn't live with the knowledge that someone had to give his life to save mine. And now he did it again."

"And you have to live with it." Malcolm said with genuine sympathy in his voice.

"Yeah, but d'you know what's really strange? I think I actually can live with it. Because I know that no one forced Sim to give up his life for someone he didn't even know, but that he did it, because, because…" Trip's voice faltered.

"Because he loved you, Trip," Malcolm said gently. "He loved you like a brother."

Trip smiled with tears in his eyes. "Yeah, he did."

The door bell chimed. Archer peered in and smiled gently at Trip. "I just wanted to check on you. Are you alright?"

"Come in, Cap'n, have a glass of bourbon with us."

"I'm still on duty."

"We won't tell anyone. I want to toast to Sim."

"That's the best reason to bend regulations." Archer perched himself on the side of Trip's bunk and accepted a glass from Malcolm. He looked down at the golden fluid, then raised the glass. "To a valuable crewmember."

Malcolm did the same. "To a good friend."

"To a brother," Trip chimed in.

The three officers locked eyes, smiled at each other and let their glasses clink. "To Sim," they said in unison.

The End!

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One person has made comments

Gabi, thank you so much. I really loved this. I appreciate the work that's gone into this story. I thought the dialogue was excellent. Shame Sim had to die, but it was really the only feasible ending - unless you could have sent him over to me!!!!! Thanks for a lovely story.