No More, No Less - Chapter 3

Realization

sequel to “A Friend in Need”

by Setcheti

Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them. They don’t deserve them, but they own them just the same, more’s the pity.

Author’s Note: It seems this story isn’t done with me yet. This one is from Hoshi’s point of view and yes, there are shadings of Trip/T’Pol – I thought that mutual foot-massage thing they had going at the beginning of the episode was sweet, it showed how comfortably intimate they’d gotten together. Like the last one, this story won’t make sense unless you read “A Friend in Need”.

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Chapter 3 - Realization

Hoshi watched Trip eat out of the corner of her eye while she finished her own dinner. He was gaining back the weight he’d lost, finally. She smiled when he pushed something on his plate aside and Malcolm reached over with his own fork and pushed it back. Trip gave the armory officer an exasperated look, and then smiled himself and blushed slightly, ducking his head, when Malcolm told him he’d have to be sneakier than that.

Trip of a month ago would have come back at him for that one, Hoshi remembered with a pang. Trip of now just chuckled under his breath and went back to eating, although he did cast some sidelong looks at Malcolm that were at once wondering and mischievous.

It was the wonder that killed her. He still couldn’t believe they cared anything about him. Hoshi’s fingers tightened around her fork almost until it hurt. She still couldn’t believe they’d let him believe otherwise – for two weeks, no less. And if he hadn’t stopped her in the corridor that day while he was stealing the captain’s dog…

She was going to have the imprint of the fork handle embedded in her skin, Hoshi decided absently, not really caring much. Porthos had needed to be stolen, of course; the little dog didn’t deserve to be neglected like he had been, he’d lost weight too. And the captain had never asked for the dog back, or even asked how the dog was doing. She resisted the urge to snort. Of course he hadn’t; doing that would have meant he had to talk to Trip, and Jonathan Archer wasn’t about to do that. No, Captain Archer, she amended silently. Jonathan Archer was dead.

As dead as he wanted Trip to be. As dead as he’d convinced Trip he was to everyone on board. Hoshi didn’t think she’d ever be able to forgive the captain for that.

After meeting up with Trip in the corridor she’d all but run to find Travis and then the two of them had gone to Malcolm in the armory. And then the three of them had gone together to Trip’s quarters, and when he hadn’t answered his door Malcolm had checked to make sure he was inside and had then used his security override to let them in. Trip had been on his bed, asleep, with Porthos curled up beside him.

The fact that he had cried himself to sleep had been painfully evident.

Travis had moved first, pushing past Hoshi and Malcolm where they stood frozen in the doorway, pushing them inside so the door could close and then going to the bed and sitting down near the head of it. Porthos had looked at him mournfully and nosed at the hand Travis had offered him but hadn’t moved from where he was laying. The navigator had stroked the little beagle’s head and ruffled his ears, and then, deliberately, had stroked Trip’s hair as well in an almost identical gesture. And Porthos, Hoshi would swear it, had smiled.

They’d all ended up sitting on the bed, and when a soft yip from Porthos had awakened Trip the engineer had sat up and just stared at them with an expression so startled, so hopeful…he’d reached out one trembling hand to touch Hoshi’s cheek, his reddened blue eyes widening when his fingers came in contact with her skin and then closing in an agony of relief when she took his hand and cradled it in her own much smaller one, pressing it against the side of her face so that he would know she was real. Malcolm had put a hand on his shoulder, Travis had scooted closer…and then Trip has whispered the three words that had shattered Hoshi’s world. “Am I dreamin’?”

She hadn’t been able to speak, had just shaken her head no while tears welled up in her eyes, but Malcolm had found his voice to answer. “No, Trip,” he’d said softly. “We’re here.”

“And we’re so sorry,” Travis had added. “We…we didn’t know.”

The engineer had frozen, pain overtaking hope again as he stiffened under their hands; he obviously would have pulled away if he could have. “You’re here because I…remember.”

Hoshi had figured out what he meant before Malcolm and Travis had, and horror had given her back her voice. “No!” she’d cried, startling him. She’d taken his face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. “No, Trip. We aren’t here because of Sim – he was you, those memories are yours too. We just didn’t know…that you were still in there. We thought we’d lost you.”

Trip had looked at her for a long, searching moment, and then nodded. “Well, you did just bury me two weeks ago,” he’d managed.

“You should know, you were standing beside the pod,” Malcolm had said, as though just realizing it himself. The grip on Trip’s shoulder became a one-armed hug. “God, Trip, we’re so sorry. We were all so much in shock after everything that happened, and then Phlox wouldn’t tell anyone anything and the rumor mill…well, you can just imagine the stories that have been flying around. But it was still inexcusable, completely.”

Trip had given him a look. “I can excuse it,” he’d said, reaching up to grasp the armory officer’s arm in a tight, almost desperate grip. “You’re…you’re here now. Right?”

There had been just enough uncertainty still in the question to dissolve them all, and they’d ended up enfolding him in a reassuring and eventually very wet group hug. And once he’d calmed down – once they’d all calmed down – Trip had told them his story.

And what a story it had been. And Hoshi was positive he hadn’t even told them all of it.

After they’d finally left the engineer, sleeping soundly under a blanket they’d tucked in around him with Porthos once again curled up against his chest, Hoshi had gone up to the bridge to check some communications logs and Malcolm had taken Travis with him to the armory. They’d all met up in the mess a few hours later, the communications officer in shock and the armory officer so furious he looked like he was about to explode, and Travis had been somewhere in between, angry and horrified all at once. He and Malcolm had been going through security tapes, and what they’d had to tell Hoshi about the scene that had played out just hours earlier in the shuttlebay had chilled her. In return she’d been able to tell them that Phlox hadn’t spoken to Trip directly since the funeral – which was the same day he’d all but thrown the engineer out of Sickbay, still dazed and dizzy and suffering from blurred double vision and a great deal of honest confusion.

She’d found a single message sent to Trip from Phlox, a short and impersonal note sent to the engineer’s personal terminal telling him he would be off duty for two days and to contact Sickbay if he experienced any serious problems. No pain medication had been prescribed for the pounding, persistent headache, no physical therapy scheduled to bring back muscles weak from two weeks of comatose limpness, and no counseling had been offered to help the engineer come to terms with what had happened…or what had been done to save him. Phlox hadn’t so much as checked on Trip over the past two weeks, much less done anything to help him.

Hoshi didn’t want to think about what Archer had done. She had to sit on the bridge with him every day, after all – and her self-control wasn’t what Malcolm’s was. Travis didn’t often speak on the bridge anyway and only rarely had to answer to anything, so he was having an easier time of it. Hoshi didn’t think Archer had noticed that his navigator hadn’t been able to look at him for a while.

But then, it had been a while since Archer had noticed much of anything, except the Xindi. A year ago Hoshi would never have believed her captain would sacrifice his crew, or neglect his dog, or turn away from his best friend, all in the name of a mission. It was an important mission, she knew that…but what good did it do them to save humanity if in doing so they threw away the most important parts of what they were supposed to be saving?

The clatter of silverware drew her back out of her gloomy thoughts, and she saw that Trip had finished eating and was trying to fend off the cup of cocoa that Malcolm and Travis were pushing on him. “Guys, come on…”

“Drink it,” Travis ordered him. “See, it’s got marshmallows and everything – and I had to beg Chef to get those, so don’t let them go to waste.”

Hoshi smothered a grin. Travis wouldn’t have had to beg, at least not very hard. They’d had a talk with Chef about fattening Trip back up, and he’d been a willing accomplice ever since. No one had bothered to tell Trip that, though; he was a more cooperative eater if he thought his friends had put themselves to some trouble getting Chef to make his favorite foods. And gratitude made him more cooperative in other areas as well. “You’ll need the extra energy for your workout, too,” she reminded the engineer with a wink. “Malcolm’s been…antsy today.”

Reed drew himself up to his full height in mock offence. “Antsy?” he demanded. “Is that any way to talk about a superior officer, Ensign? I could have you clapped in irons for cheek like that.”

“We don’t have any irons,” Hoshi pointed out. “Unless you have a set in your quarters, that is.”

“I might at that,” Malcolm told her with a wicked grin. “But how I amuse myself off duty is none of your business, now is it?” Trip almost snorted cocoa out his nose at that, and the armory officer patted his shoulder. “Easy does it now. See what you’ve done, Hoshi?”

“She’s not the one talking about the kinks in her sex life at the table,” Travis reminded him, grinning when Trip choked again. “Too much information?”

“Way too much,” Trip managed, but he was smiling. Hoshi smiled too, as did Malcolm and Travis; it was good to see that familiar smile, even if it wasn’t as bright as it once had been. “But can’t we skip the exercise tonight? I’m feelin’ kind of tired.”

Smiles vanished. “Still having trouble sleeping?” Malcolm inquired delicately. They knew he was, of course, there just wasn’t anything they could do about it. The only thing that had helped Trip’s persistent insomnia was Vulcan neuropressure, and that…was no longer an option. “Perhaps I should drive you a bit harder in our workouts, wear you out for the night?”

Trip gave him a faint smile. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” He sipped at his cocoa and sighed. “I guess I’m just tired of bein’ tired, that’s all.”

“It won’t be for too much longer,” Travis tried to reassure him. “You just have to give yourself time to get back up to speed.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Trip sighed. “Just impatient – like I said, I’m tired of bein’ tired.”

“Don’t blame you a bit,” Malcolm commiserated. “But Travis is right, you are coming right along. Now while you’re finishing that sugary concoction you Americans pass off as a proper cup of chocolate, why don’t you tell me what the repair schedule is looking like.”

Hoshi picked up her cup of tea and started finishing it, knowing that as soon as the repair schedule had been discussed it would be time to head for the gym and Trip’s physical therapy session that they’d been very careful not to refer to as anything but a ‘workout’. She repressed a shiver, and not because the tea had gotten cold; the first time they’d taken Trip to the gym, they’d made the mistake of trying to get him to lie down on the mat to stretch. He’d started out all right, but then suddenly he’d sat up and curled in on himself, a look on his face so lost and hurt that Hoshi had actually winced. She’d managed to get enough out of him between sobs to know that it had reminded him of his sessions with T’Pol, and later that night before she’d gone to bed she’d done a little research into Vulcan neuropressure techniques.

She’d been feeling slightly sorry for T’Pol before that, but afterwards…well, Hoshi found herself having the same problem working with T’Pol that she knew Malcolm was having when it came to Archer. Hoshi hadn’t told Malcolm and Travis about it yet, wasn’t sure how they’d react to hearing that T’Pol had taken advantage of Trip’s vulnerability in order to seduce him – she’d checked, Vulcan neuropressure didn’t and never had involved half-naked people lying on the floor touching each other in a candlelit room. It had worked, of course; Trip wore his heart on his sleeve at the best of times, he’d never had a chance.

And now T’Pol broke his heart all over again every time she spoke to him in that cold, heartless voice – when she deigned to speak to him at all, that was. Hoshi knew the Vulcan must be hurting too, but it was still unforgivably cruel to treat Trip that way after everything he’d already been through. And so she’d decided that letting it continue wasn’t an option.

T’Pol was sitting alone off at a corner table, picking over her food, keeping her eyes down. Hoshi took her time getting rid of her tray, lagging behind the three men as they left the mess hall still talking about repairs and then detouring just slightly to pause beside the Vulcan’s table. She didn’t give T’Pol time to say anything. “He remembers, you know,” the linguist murmured accusingly, and had the satisfaction of seeing a faint expression of shock – and was that guilt? – flicker across the cold face. Hoshi wasn’t sure exactly what clone-memories Trip had about T’Pol because he wouldn’t tell her, but she was pretty sure whichever ones were most relevant were the ones the Vulcan would think she was talking about. “I didn’t think you could be so cruel.”

“I…did not know.” T’Pol looked shaken. “Dr. Phlox has not said…”

“The doctor hasn’t seen him since the funeral,” Hoshi cut her off, softly but sharply. “He’s been on his own since then, we only found out by accident. We’re taking care of him now.”

The hand that grabbed her arm stopped Hoshi from walking away, and she was surprised by the desperation – not to mention the faint trembling – that she could feel in that powerful grip. “Is he…sleeping?”

It was almost a whisper, and dripping with emotion. “What do you think?” Hoshi returned, not meanly, and then she extracted her arm from T’Pol’s hold and walked away, out of the mess hall. She didn’t allow herself to smile until she was well away. T’Pol’s reaction had been everything she’d hoped to see and hadn’t thought she would. Maybe, just maybe, something good could come out of this nightmare after all.

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