What Lies Within Us- Chapter 12

What Lies Within Us

by Gabi

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to alba, rinne and Neo Getz for your feedback. (Neo Getz: Yes, he is still paralyzed. Just have a look at the summary in chapter 1. I told you from the start that things are going from bad to worse. So please don't kill me after reading this chapter.)

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Chapter 12

Things went back to normal aboard Enterprise. No one had really believed they would be able to escape the aliens, least of all Malcolm who'd maintained alert conditions ever since they'd pulled free from the tractor beam. By now, however, Enterprise was several light-years away from the solar system where they'd confronted the alien vessel, and it was quite unlikely that the strangers would be able to track them down in the depths of deep space. After three days had passed without anything unexpected happening, even Malcolm began to relax a little, and didn't argue when Archer gave the order to call off alert conditions. Even though he couldn't quite believe it, by now he'd accepted the fact that either the aliens had had no interest in pursuing them, or for some reason hadn't been able to do so. Nevertheless T'Pol kept a watchful eye on her sensors in order to avoid any unpleasant surprises.

-###-

Trip had recovered quite nicely. The nightmares in which he was strapped on this metal table again and still could feel the alien's hands and instruments on his skin slowly vanished. Even so, he didn't talk to anyone about what had happened on that alien vessel, not even to Jon and Malcolm. But they both knew what he'd gone through, and tried hard to reintegrate Trip into everyday life on Enterprise, keeping him busy so he wouldn't have too much time to brood on recent events. At daytime, he was doing quite good, too. By now, Trip had learned to handle the wheelchair so well he didn't need any more help with his everyday chores.

His work, however, was a different story. Being down in Engineering was becoming increasingly frustrating for him, having to watch as his staff did all the work, climbing around between the upper and lower level, using the stepladders which had become inaccessible to Trip. Of course Trip was still in command, giving the crew orders what to do and how to do it. But he couldn't help them do the work, and it was nothing short of torture, being reduced to sitting around and watching. He had to change something about that, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Still, somehow the days passed, and Trip thought he was actually doing quite good, coping with the situation. The crew still included him in everyday life on Enterprise, and no one seemed to mind that Trip was now sitting in a wheelchair. He was able to move about quite freely in Enterprise's corridors, even though the ship's designer's of course hadn't gone to the trouble of making her suitable for disabled persons. But Trip was getting more and more skilled in dealing with the daily adversities of his handicap. Every evening either Jon or Malcolm would drop by to help him with the exercises Phlox had prescribed to keep his muscles supple, and from time to time Hoshi would come by afterwards to give him a massage. Trip couldn't complain about not getting enough attention, and he still felt fully accepted by the crew.

Still, he lay awake every night, feeling his depression weighing down on him like a dark heavy blanket. All of this was only temporary, and he knew it. He was no longer able to do his job as Chief Engineer, no matter what Jon said. The time would come when Starfleet would have him replaced, and he would have to go back to Earth. But back home there wasn't much of a future for a handicapped engineer, either. Trip had no idea what he was going to do, and it was getting him down. He knew he could get used to that wheelchair, and by now he had even come to terms with the idea of having to use it for the rest of his life. And he was sure he would be able to do that. The problem was, Trip had no idea what he was going to do with such a life.

-###-

A week after they'd left the solar system where they'd met the aliens, Trip woke up in the morning to find that he had problems sitting up in bed. He felt strangely weak, but it took him quite a while to determine the source of his discomfort. He could no longer tense the muscles in his abdomen. Dismayed, Trip tried to draw in his stomach, but it wouldn't work. His stomach rose and fall with every breath he took, but he could no longer make any intentional movement. He took some of the skin around his navel between his fingers, pinching it hard.

"Ouch." It hurt. Everything seemed perfectly normal, except for the fact that his muscles would no longer respond to his brain. What the hell was wrong with him? Well, never mind; he would simply have to try and do without the muscles in his stomach today. In a few minutes he was having breakfast with Malcolm, and there was no way he was going to tell the Lieutenant about this new difficulty. He'd been enough trouble lately, and didn't want to be more of a burden to his friends than absolutely necessary. Maybe the symptoms were harmless, after all. Maybe he'd simply put too much strain on his muscles, doing his exercises yesterday. Shutting these thoughts out of his mind, Trip awkwardly pushed his legs over the edge of the bed, groping for his clothes.

-###-

Malcolm had the distinct impression that there was something wrong with Trip. The engineer moved with exaggerated caution, sometimes swaying in his wheelchair as if he were having trouble keeping his balance. Malcolm's suspicion was being confirmed in the evening of that day, when they were in the gym doing Trip's exercises.

"Come on, Trip. Sit up." Holding Trip's wrists in a firm grip, Malcolm was kneeling in front of the engineer who was lying on his back, trying to pull himself in a sitting position. Trip had had no trouble with this particular exercise in the last few days, but tonight the Commander seemed to lack the strength to do it properly.

"Now, what's wrong?" Malcolm said teasingly, patting Trip on the stomach. "Too much pasta in there, huh? Come on, use your muscles. Don't be such a slouch!"

But Trip couldn't do it. He only managed to pull himself up a few centimeters, then plopped back down on the mat, panting heavily.

"Won't work," he said, gasping for air. "Let's try somethin' else, okay?"

"Alright." Malcolm tried not to let any of his worry show. Up until now, Trip had done really good, so maybe a small relapse was only to be expected.

"Will Hoshi drop by your quarters later?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yup."

"Sometimes I really envy you. I'd sure like to get a massage from Hoshi once in a while."

"We can swap places anytime." Trip grinned at him. "But you get not just the massages, but also the whole blasted rest."

"I don't think so, Commander." Smiling, Malcolm lifted Trip's leg off the mattress so the engineer could fold his hands behind the knee.

"Try pulling it towards you, Trip. Come on, a little harder. Is that all you can do? I have to say, I'm quite disappointed. You used to do quite good at these exercises."

Panting, Trip let go of his knee, dropping the leg on the mat. He had to change the subject, make Malcolm forget about his condition.

"I'm sure Hoshi would be happy to give you a massage," he said. "Why don't you just ask her?"

"I can't just go and ask Hoshi if she'd give me a massage. She'd clock me one and laugh in my face!" Malcolm took Trip's other leg. "Let's try another one of these exercises, Commander."

"Want me to ask her?" Trip folded his hands around his knee, an evil smile spreading on his face.

"Don't you dare! I don't need anyone organizing my dates. You'd better concentrate on these exercises of yours, you're doing quite a poor job of them tonight!"

Malcolm looked down at his friend and, noticing a strange expression on Trip's face, he felt his worry grow.

-###-

When Trip woke up the next morning, it had gotten even worse. Secretly he'd been hoping that strange weakness would disappear over night, but now he found he could hardly prop himself up on his elbows anymore. Some time ago Malcolm had put a bar over his bed he could use to pull himself into a sitting position, but when Trip tried to reach out for it, he noticed in dismay that he wasn't able to raise his arms beyond shoulder level, and could hold them up for only a few seconds before they dropped back onto the bed like dead weights. How was he going to get out of bed like that, let alone dress himself? Again, Trip tried to sit up, but to no avail. There was no way around it, he had to wait for someone to come and help him.

"Reed to Tucker. Trip, what's up? I'm waiting!"

When Trip heard Malcolm's voice come from the small speaker on the wall, he sighed in relief, hoping it wouldn't take Reed too long to come looking for him.

Five minutes later the doorsignal chimed. Trip quickly closed his eyes when Malcolm entered.

"Hey, Trip, why are you still in bed? Do you know what time it is?"

Opening his eyes, Trip feigned sleepy surprise. "Dammit! I overslept! Doggone it. Could you help me get out of bed?"

Malcolm gave Trip an astonished look. Usually the engineer insisted on doing everything himself, and it had been quite some time since he'd last asked anyone for help.

"Take your time, Trip," he tried to reassure his friend.

"I don't wanna be late for the briefin'."

"I'm sure the Captain won't mind if you're a little late."

"But I mind. I'm not gonna let it become a habit. Are you gonna help me or not?"

Malcolm was worried. Helping Trip out of bed, he had to support him almost as much as in the beginning when Trip hadn't yet learned how to handle the wheelchair. It just wasn't like the engineer to resort to other people's help when he didn't need it. But he did seem to need it, though. Trip seemed to be overly tired and clumsy this morning, having trouble coordinating his movements. When Malcolm tried to ask him about it, though, Trip only waved him off.

"I'm jus' a little tired, Malcolm. Don't worry, I jus' need a good cup of coffee, and I'll be feelin' fine."

"You ought to shave before we go."

"Don't have the time."

"You didn't shave yesterday either." Malcolm glanced at Trip's dark, stubbly chin.

"No, I'll do it when the briefing's over."

Thinking of the briefing that started in a few minutes, Trip hoped none of his fellow officers would notice that he had problems coordinating his movements. When the briefing was over, he could escape to his desk in Engineering and pass the time until lunch without anyone realizing what was happening to him. And then? Trip knew he couldn't hide his difficulties forever. But he didn't want to go to sickbay yet again. There was nothing Phlox could do, anyway, and Trip was getting a little tired of the doctor's regretful expression when he told him that he couldn't help him.

-###-

They arrived in the ready room just in time. Trip had allowed Malcolm to push the wheelchair most of the way. He felt the Lieutenant's unspoken concern and knew that Malcolm was aware that something was wrong. But Trip was still able to hide his difficulties quite well.

When Malcolm pushed him over to his place at the table, T'Pol gave him a cool look.

"I know the Captain allowed you to wear civilian clothes, Commander," she said reproachfully. "But there are certain regulations concerning an officer's appearance. Your present appearance is not appropriate for a senior officer on duty."

Trip ran his left hand over his stubbly cheek. "I'm sorry, sir," he said to the Captain. "I overslept and didn't have the time to shave. I'll do it as soon as the briefing's over."

"Alright, Trip. Don't make it a habit, though, okay?" Archer turned to T'Pol. "Anything new about that database?"

"Due to Ensign Sato's and Commander Tucker's efforts we have now unlimited access to the aliens' knowledge. Their technology is of course very advanced, but it is possible to integrate it at least partially into Enterprise's systems."

"That would be an enormous progress."

"Indeed. Maybe later this afternoon Commander Tucker can help me outline our possibilities of integrating the cloaking system."

"Commander?" Archer gave Trip a pointed look.

"What?" Trip startled. "Yeah, sure, Subcommander. Jus' let me know when you've got a minute."

His colleagues raised their eyebrows at that. It wasn't like Trip to let his thoughts wander during a briefing, especially not when the topic was new technology. Trip noticed the slight frown on Jon's face, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care whether the Captain might be angry with him or not. Trip had just realized that he could no longer close the fingers of his right hand.

-###-

Lieutenant Hess had taken him with her to messhall. Now Trip sat at the table together with Hoshi, Travis and Malcolm, desperately trying to hold on to his knife. By now, his right hand would hardly respond at all anymore, and the left one was rapidly getting worse, as well. Malcolm had raised his eyebrows when he'd noticed Trip's still unshaven face, but to Trip's relief he had said nothing. Trip focussed his attention on Hoshi and Travis teasing each other, trying to distract himself. Suddenly, though, there was a loud clatter when the knife slipped from his fingers, landing on the floor next to the table. Trip's arm crashed painfully onto the table, he swayed and would have fallen out of his wheelchair if Travis hadn't grabbed him by the arm a second before he lost his balance.

Calmly, Malcolm picked up the knife, wiped it on a napkin and put it back onto the table next to Trip's plate.

"What. Is. Wrong. Commander?" he asked, stressing every single word. Trip stared at his hand which had fallen onto the table and wouldn't move at all anymore. He could no longer hide what was happening.

"The paralysis is spreadin'," he admitted quietly. "I can move fewer and fewer parts of my body as it progresses."

Hoshi clapped a hand in front of her mouth, staring at him in dismay. Her expression was mirrored by Travis and Malcolm, who stared at him as well.

"You didn't oversleep this morning," Malcolm said bluntly. "You couldn't get out of bed. You were just putting on a show. So we wouldn't notice that there was something wrong with you. How long has this been going on?"

"Since yesterday morning."

"And when did you plan on telling us about it, Commander?" A testy undertone crept into Malcolm's voice.

"You'd have only dragged me off to sickbay if I'd told you."

"Yes I would. And that's exactly what I'm going to do now."

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant." Hoshi seemed to have recovered from her shock. "I think we should let the Commander finish his meal, at least. Who knows when he'll next have a chance to eat when Phlox gets hold of him."

"Hoshi, I can't..." Trip's voice broke.

Getting up, Hoshi shooed Travis out of his seat and sat down next to Trip. She took his fork, spearing a piece of meat and holding it up in front of his mouth. "There you go, Commander."

Trip shook his head. "No, Hoshi, not in front of the crew."

"They won't notice. And even if they do who cares? This ship is like one big family, Commander. And sooner or later everyone knows when there's something wrong with you. Now, don't be silly!"

Trip shrugged, opening his mouth. After skipping breakfast he was just plain hungry. And so he resigned to his fate, allowing Hoshi to feed him while Travis stood behind him, holding him by the shoulders. That way, Trip at least didn't have to fight for balance while he ate his lunch.

-###-

Jonathan Archer opened the sickbay doors. It seemed to become quite the habit these days, and he hated it.

"Doc? How is he?" How many times had he asked that questions during the last two weeks?

"Not good, I'm afraid," Phlox answered. "The paralysis is slowly taking possession of the Commander's whole body. He is still able to raise his left arm a little, but I'm afraid in a few hours he won't be able to do that anymore, either. And if the paralysis progresses at this rate, then in all likelihood the Commander will no longer be able to move his head by tomorrow morning."

Jon only stared at the doctor.

"And to answer your next question, Captain, no, I don't have any options left."

"Is that condition reversible? Maybe the paralysis will regress as quickly as it came."

"That is most unlikely."

"Doc! You're not saying Trip will be completely paralyzed! That he won't even be able to turn his head!"

"I'm afraid that is the case."

"This is unacceptable."

"I agree, Captain. And I'll keep looking for a cure, but I have to inform you that the odds of finding one are minimal."

"How does he take it?"

"I don't know. He won't talk about his feelings."

"Can I see him?"

"Of course, Captain. You know your way around."

-###-

"Hey, Cap'n." Trip reached out with his left hand. Jon took it and squeezed it, while hooking his foot around the leg of a nearby chair, drawing it up to the bed.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Jon swallowed. "What would you be sorry for, Trip?"

"I still didn't shave."

Jon laughed despite himself. Somehow, though, the sound of his own laughter made him feel even worse. "You should have told us, Trip."

"And miss T'Pol give me a dressing-down for not bein' appropriately groomed? Never."

For a while they sat in silence. Then Trip spoke up again. "You were right, Jon."

"What do you mean?"

"That wheelchair really wasn't the end of the road."

"That's not what I meant." Jon's voice broke as he tried to hold back the tears.

"I know." Trip nodded. "But you have to admit there's a certain irony to it. I really hated that wheelchair. I didn't want to use it, and now I'd be glad if I was able to sit in it again."

"Maybe we could..."

"No, Jon," Trip interrupted, shaking his head. "You'd need to tie me in there like a lifeless doll. I don't want that."

Jon nodded. Trip's words cut through his very soul. It was nothing short of cruel, having to lie on that bed and wait for the paralysis to take possession of his body until he was no longer able to move at all.

"Would you mind leavin' now, Jon?" Trip said quietly. "I need some time to think."

"Sure, Trip." Jon got up, reluctantly, but still glad that he was able to escape this for a while. "I'll come back later and check on you."

Raising his left hand, Trip waved him goodbye, and Jon knew with painful certainty that this was the last movement he'd ever see of his friend.

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TBC

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Two folks have made comments

OHHHHH! Things are really getting worse!! Poor Trip... Keep writing please!!!

>:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'( >:'(

God, bad to worse, u lied! It's Bad to absolute hell!!!!!

Trip :( our poor Trip. You're hurting him too much, i think i'm gonna cry >:'(

Write more plz!