The Miles That Lay Ahead

The Miles That Lay Ahead

by Gabi

Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst
Rating: PG-13 (one or two chapters will be rated R later on)

Sequel to "What Lies Within Us". Trip still can't walk. But that doesn't prevent him and Malcolm from getting into trouble. Very deep trouble indeed.

Archive: Of course, but please let me know
Disclaimer: I guess I own the aliens in this story, the friendly as well as the unfriendly ones, but unfortunately none of the Enterprise staff.

A/N: This story directly follows the events of What Lies Within Us. To find out why Trip can't walk you may want to read that one first, although some explanations are provided in this story as well.

~~~~~~

"The miles I put behind me ain't as hard as the miles that lay ahead."
(Joe Diffie, "Home")

Chapter 1

They grabbed him and tied him down on the examination table. He tried to fight them, but he couldn't move. He opened his mouth to scream, but he didn't have any air to do so. He couldn't breathe. He was wheezing. Cold hands were all over him, metal instruments thrusting into his every orifice. "Take it easy, buddy," Jon said, tearing open his uniform down the back. "I can't sedate you," Phlox said, burying a long needle in his spine. He tried to scream, but he still had no air. Not a sound escaped his lips. Why are you doing this, he pleaded silently. Why are you torturing me, you are my friends! Jon bent down over him, a cold glint sparkling in his eyes, and he was smiling maliciously.

"Commander!" He felt a hand settle on his shoulders and startled. "Commander, wake up!"

With a jerk, Trip sat up, his eyes wide. Lieutenant Hess stood in front of him, a concerned expression on her face. "Sorry to wake you, sir, but you seemed to be having a nightmare," she said apologetically.

Slowly, Trip let out the breath that he'd been holding. "That's one way to put it, Anna," he sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. Then, realizing what had happened, he stopped in his tracks. "Oh dammit, I fell asleep. Just don't tell the Cap'n his Chief Engineer's been nappin' on duty."

"Don't worry, Chief." Anna Hess smiled at him. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Trip gave the young woman a grateful look. She knew as well as he did that this wasn't about him falling asleep on duty, but about Captain Archer, who'd immediately start worrying about his friend again. And by now, Trip was fed up with people worrying about him.

"You should go and get some rest, Commander," Lieutenant Hess said. "You look beat."

And he was. Ever since Phlox had injected him with the antidote that was supposed to cure him of the paralysis he felt tired all the time, and Trip was beginning to get frustrated. The doctor told him daily not to exhaust himself, but Trip simply wanted to get rid of that wheelchair. And that wouldn't happen if he stayed in bed all the time.

"No time for that," he said and gave a huge yawn. "I'm meeting Lieutenant Reed in the gym in half an hour. There's still that exercise schedule I have to work off."

Anna Hess smiled again. "You're making progress."

"I am." Trip smiled and waggled his feet. "They've started to move again'. Now they only have to learn how to carry my weight again."

"They will," said Hess, nodding reassuringly. "Just don't overdo it."

Trip sighed. That was something he heard every day, from everybody. He looked after Anna as she returned to her workstation and suddenly, a shiver ran through him. The nightmare had been quite intense. The aliens, the unpleasant examination onboard their vessel, Phlox injecting him with the cure, not being able to breathe; it all came back to him. He tried to shrug off the disturbing memories, and decided it would be best if he just concentrated on his work again.

-###-

When Trip left the engine room twenty minutes later, he'd been able to shake off the nightmare, but he didn't feel any more awake than before. He had ten minutes left before his workout started, and realized that he had to decide between changing and getting himself a cup of coffee. Each took about the same amount of time, and ten minutes weren't enough to do both. He didn't want to make Malcolm wait. Trip glanced down at his jeans. They'd be alright for the exercises, coffee was his priority right now.

"Coffee, strong," he ordered as he arrived in the mess hall, and watched the black liquid pour into the cup. He took a few sips so the cup wouldn't be filled all the way to the brim anymore, then made his way to one of the tables. He still hadn't figured out how to steer the wheelchair with one hand while holding a filled cup in the other without spilling the drink all over himself. He supposed he could learn how to do so with a little practice, but it wasn't necessary since he wouldn't be using this wheelchair for very much longer now. From a nearby table he saw Hoshi waving at him to join her and Travis, and he steered his wheelchair in their direction.

"Do you want me to get you something to eat, Commander?" Hoshi asked after the usual greetings had been exchanged. She knew about his balancing problems which weren't restricted to coffee.

Trip looked at her. When they'd been convinced that he was about to die, she had called him Trip, but ever since he was getting better, she had changed back to addressing him by rank. Still, something had changed. His relationship to the other senior officers had always been an amicable one, but the recent experience had deepened it even further. His friends had accompanied him to death's door step, had guided him past and around it and back to life. They had fed and changed him when he'd been unable to move, and Hoshi still stopped by his quarters every day to give him a massage to ease his muscle cramping. All of this had formed a bond, and a formal addressing or two couldn't change that.

"Commander?"

Trip realized that Hoshi was still waiting for an answer to her question. He grinned. "Sorry, Hoshi, I was kinda woolgatherin' there for a minute."

"I noticed." She smiled. "So, do you want me to get you something?"

"No, that's alright, Hoshi. Malcolm's waitin' for me in the gym. I still got some work to do." Trip finished his coffee and placed the cup on Hoshi's tray.

"Trip!" she called as he turned to go. Smiling, Trip looked back at her.

"Don't overdo it, okay?"

-###-

Hoshi's advice still in mind, Trip arrived at the gym at the same time as Malcolm. The armoury officer, apparently in high spirits, greeted him and let him enter first.

"You look tired," Malcolm stated after a scrutinizing look at Trip's face.

"I'm alright," Trip hastily assured, stifling a yawn. With the help of his friend he let himself slide out of the wheelchair onto one of the mats. The exercises Phlox had prescribed for him to give his limbs their former flexibility were exhausting but satisfying. His muscles reacted a little sluggishly today, but Trip refused to take it easy, pushing himself to the limit.

"Good job," Malcolm said finally.

Trip ran a hand over his sweaty forehead and snorted. "Good job, that's all?"

"A lot better than just a few days ago." Malcolm made an indicating movement with his head. "Do you want to go play with your new toy?"

"Sure," Trip grinned. The day before, his engineering team had put up a set of parallel bars in the gym, a trustworthy solid steel apparatus complete with two polished wooden bars that had just the right height to help him with his first attempts to walk. Yesterday he'd almost managed to pass one length, today he wanted it to be two at least. With a little help from Malcolm he climbed back into the wheelchair and positioned himself in front of the bars. Carefully, he put first one, then two feet on the gym floor, as always amazed as he watched his legs move. They wouldn't carry his weight yet, but they were moving, if slowly and awkwardly. Something he wouldn't have thought possible after Phlox' first diagnosis.

Malcolm moved up in front of him and put his arms around Trip's waist. "Ready?"

"Ready." Trip reached for the bars, pulling himself up and straightening his arms. Same as yesterday, a dizzy spell washed over him as his body adapted to the new upright position. When he'd tried this for the first time, he'd almost lost his balance, but today he was prepared. So was Malcolm who didn't let go until Trip gave him a short nod.

"Well, Commander, off you go." Malcolm took a step backwards but stayed close to catch Trip in case he slipped. But Trip was planning on no such thing. He felt how his legs supported him, how he could move his feet forward inch by inch and put his weight on them without his knees giving way immediately. It was a good feeling to be standing on his own two feet again. A damn good feeling.

The biggest problem cropped up as he reached the end of the bars' length. Trip had no idea how to turn around to go back.

"Well done, Trip," Malcolm said as Trip had passed one length. "Is it okay for you to stay there for a second? I'll get the wheelchair."

"No, Malcolm." Trip shook his head. "I'm not done yet. Help me turn around."

"It's enough for today," Malcolm tried to protest, but he knew it was no use. When Trip had set his mind on doing something, even an exploding galaxy had a hard time convincing him otherwise. And indeed, his friend was shaking his head vehemently. In the meantime, Trip's breathing was coming in gasps from the strain he was putting on himself, but giving up wasn't an option. "Are you gonna help me, or are you gonna wait till I fall on my face?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Malcolm gave the engineer a thoughtful look. "It'll probably work if you turned your feet ninety degrees. Push yourself up." He got to his knees and turned Trip's feet to one side. "Now turn around and pull your feet behind you. Wait a second!" Malcolm quickly got to his feet to be able to catch Trip in case the engineer missed one of the bars. But Trip's sense for distances was far from bad. He put his full weight on his legs, pushed himself off and in a quick movement, with each hand he grabbed the other bar. Malcolm gave him an appreciative look, but Trip didn't see it for he was now standing with his back to his friend.

The way back was harder. Trip felt his arms starting to tremble, and at times his feet seemed to stick to the floor. But the finishing line was less than six feet away, and Trip wanted to make it. That and more. It should be possible to add a third length. It was worth a try, anyway.

He heard Malcolm give a chuckle behind him. "Did anyone ever tell you that your derrière is worth a second look, Commander?"

Instinctively throwing a startled look over his shoulder, Trip felt his right elbow give way, and he stumbled. Immediately, Malcolm slid his arms under his shoulders, supporting him. "Watch out," the armory officer said, but the laughter was still evident in his voice. He waited until Trip had regained his balance, then ducked under one of the bars and appeared in front of the engineer.

"You wanna scare me to death, Mal?" Trip asked, half-angry and half-amused, then returned his attention to his current task of putting one foot in front of the other.

"Sorry Trip. I know, you would like to hear that rather from a female crew-member." Malcolm gave a low chuckle.

Trip shot Malcolm a glare. He knew, of course, that Malcolm wasn't complimenting him on his rear view. The lieutenant knew exactly why Trip hadn't changed into his usual Starfleet jumpsuit, and couldn't resist the chance to tease him about it. Of course Trip knew that he looked better in his jeans than in the uniform. There was no need to tell him that. The looks some female crew members were giving him weren't only because of the wheelchair. And to be honest, Trip found the fact that they still thought of him as attractive despite his handicap to be quite reassuring. Besides, he was more comfortable wearing his jeans, too. The Captain had allowed him to wear civilian clothing as long as he wanted. What Jon had meant was of course that Trip could wear what he wanted as long as he found himself incapable of pulling the uniform over his paralyzed legs. If he was able to put on his jeans, though, he would manage the same thing with the Starfleet jumpsuit. The thing was just that Trip didn't really want to try. Malcolm knew that, of course, and Trip was convinced that Jon knew as well. But when it came to that matter, Jon granted him something like a fool's license. The cripple premium, as Trip called it. And if Jon had decided to be lax about regulations for once, then Trip was determined to make the most of it. The day he was able to give Phlox back his wheelchair and leave sickbay on his own two legs - maybe with crutches as support - was the day he would put on his discarded uniform and signal people that Trip Tucker was back. On the other hand, if his casual clothing already provoked teasing remarks like Malcolm's just now, maybe it was time to start thinking about wearing his uniform again, wheelchair or no.

He had reached the end of the bars and turned around, this time without Malcolm's help. However, as he was just about to start on another round, Malcolm put a hand on his arm.

"Stop. It's enough for today."

"Just one more." Trip panted. "I know I can do it."

"I'm sure you can. But just listen to you breathing." Malcolm grabbed him under the arms and using gentle force, he pulled him back and sat him into the wheelchair. "You want Phlox to hook you up to the respirator again?"

At these words, Trip shuddered slightly. Anything but that. Malcolm was right. Trip's breathing was coming in gasps, and his heart was thumping against his ribs. His t-shirt was sweat-soaked and sticking to his back and Trip decided that maybe it was time to listen to reason and not overdo it. "Okay," he relented, rubbing a hand over his sweaty face. "Let's leave it at that for today."

Malcolm nodded. "Shower, then supper?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"You need any help?"

"Showerin'?" Trip grinned. "Malcolm, I'm a big boy already, I'll manage on my own."

"Sorry, almost forgot." Malcolm chuckled and gave Trip a pat on the shoulder, opening the door for him.

-###-

Trip was sitting in the shower, relishing the feeling of the hot water pounding on his back and massaging his cramped muscles. He was quite pleased with himself. Yesterday he'd still needed Malcolm's help to get into the shower, today he'd managed on his own. Remembering the workout session, Trip felt a surge of pride. Today he had done some walking. Not only a few unsteady steps like the day before, but real walking. It probably wouldn't be too long until he had to start wearing his uniform again. The time when he was going to get rid of the wheelchair once and forever was drawing closer with every day. Trip was happy about the dull ache in his muscles, for it told him that they followed his commands again and would do what he told them to. Feeling somewhat reckless, he wondered whether he would manage to get to his feet here in the shower. He was already looking for a suitable handhold to pull himself up when the sensible part of his mind kicked in and told him that a slippery shower probably wasn't the right place to continue his exercises. He didn't need a computer to know that the probability of him slipping and falling rather badly would be quite high. And the thought of the lectures Phlox, Jon and Malcolm were going to give him if he tried a stunt like that was enough to cure him of the idea. Maybe tomorrow he would be ready to try something like that. The day after that, at the latest. Trip closed his eyes, smiling, and enjoyed the warm water that loosened all tension in his body, relaxing his muscles.

TBC

Continue to Chapter 2

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

Three people have made comments

woooo hoooo!!!!!! you wrote a sequal to that excellent if scary story!

it's good to see Trip on the mend finally, and malcolm's comment, hmmmm.... CUTE!

Awsome!

More please!!!

This is getting good.

Very well done.