No More, No Less - Chapter 5

Healing Hurts

sequel to “Illogical Behavior”

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: And now it’s #5, Travis’ turn to do a little fixing – I don’t normally write Travis, so I just have my fingers crossed on this one hoping it came out right. And thanks to everyone who’s been sending feedback for this series, it’s been much appreciated!

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Chapter 5 – Healing Hurts

Travis walked down the corridor leading to Sickbay, humming under his breath. He was in a good mood today, and where he was headed had a lot to do with that. ‘An unexpected frontal assault’ was what Lieutenant Reed had called it, with a chuckle that said he approved and meant a heck of a lot to Travis Mayweather. Reed was one of those people whose approval was worth shooting for because he didn’t give it lightly. It was easier to tick him off, even though he wasn’t the kind of man who gave in easily to his temper either – you had to push him pretty hard to make him explode.

Travis thought he felt a little sorry for the captain in that area – just a little. Archer was about one more push from the Wrath of Reed, rank or no rank. And for Reed to be pushed hard enough to disregard rank, that was saying something. Travis was really hoping he’d be around to see it when it happened. He didn’t think it was disloyal to feel that way, not really; this was a situation that ‘transcended insubordination’, as Reed put it, because the situation was such that the captain couldn’t charge anyone with insubordination without implicating himself for something worse. Travis wasn’t really sure he understood that, but Reed did and Reed was the one who needed to rely on it being right so Travis wasn’t going to worry about it too much.

Dealing with Dr. Phlox was going to be much simpler. Travis didn’t have to lie, or sneak, or be insubordinate; all he had to do was walk into Sickbay with his list and start getting together the things that were on it, very casually. The doctor’s curiosity would take care of the rest. And hopefully, that would take care of Trip’s problem as well.

Not that they weren’t already taking care of Trip, of course. The navigator’s smile widened slightly. Some of them more than others, maybe.

He’d gone to Trip’s quarters earlier that morning to make sure the engineer went to breakfast and to check the first aid box, and had gotten the surprise of his life; Sub-Commander T’Pol had been there, performing what he could only guess was the Vulcan neuropressure technique that he’d heard so much about. But contrary to what he’d gathered from Hoshi’s grumbles and Lieutenant Reed’s innuendos, it didn’t look like something Tucker was enjoying too much. In fact, it had looked kind of like she was hurting him. Trip had apparently read what Travis was thinking from his expression, though, and had been quick to reassure him. “Pressure points,” he’d explained, a little breathlessly. He’d been sitting in his desk chair, fully dressed, the Vulcan standing behind him with her hands busy at the back of his neck, down inside the collar of his uniform. “She thinks she can stop me gettin’ another headache today, but this is the advanced stuff and it – Ow! Now you did that on purpose – it’s kind of uncomfortable.”

“Painful,” T’Pol had corrected him, and Travis had been startled to see something like concern and maybe even a touch of guilt flicker across her usually impassive features. “If you would allow me to use the other pressure point there would be much less discomfort involved.”

“Uh, no.” Trip had suddenly looked embarrassed, tipping back his head so he could look up at her. “I don’t think I’m…uh, ready to go there just now, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” she’d responded. And there it had been again, another barely-there flicker of emotion – understanding? Affection? Travis hadn’t been sure. “I am being careful, but some pain is inevitable.”

Trip had nodded. “Rather have it from you now than from gettin’ burned later,” he’d answered tiredly, blinking up at her a moment longer before returning his attention to the watching navigator. “You don’t have to wait for me, Travis.”

“I don’t mind.” Travis had settled himself on the side of Trip’s bed and accepted the lapful of happy dog that was part of sitting down in Trip’s quarters these days. “Maybe if you don’t get dizzy halfway through your shift you won’t burn yourself so much.”

It had been a tease, but Trip had flinched anyway and T’Pol’s hands had stilled at the base of his skull. The engineer had sighed. “Would be nice, yeah.”

“Soon,” T’Pol had assured him quietly. She’d pressed one more spot that made him gasp and then withdrew her hands and, to Travis’ surprise, had straightened Trip’s uniform collar into neatness before moving away. “I am due on the bridge shortly. You will come to my quarters tonight for your regular neuropressure session – you have missed far too many of them.”

Trip had smiled, just slightly, and met her eyes. “I think we both had…other stuff on our minds for a while.”

T’Pol had nodded. “Indeed.”

Travis had thought she looked relieved, but again he couldn’t be certain because he wasn’t sure how to interpret a Vulcan show of emotion – heck, he had never expected to see a Vulcan show of emotion, unless is was anger. T’Pol had taken her leave of them after that, and Trip had come to breakfast after seeing that Porthos had everything he’d need for the duration of the day’s shift. They hadn’t talked about T’Pol or the neuropressure, even though Travis was dying to ask; instead Trip had wanted to know about which systems had overloaded and in what order when the shuttlepod Travis was piloting had tried to tow Enterprise all those weeks ago. A redesign of the pods’ power systems was apparently in the works. “It was too close that time,” Trip had told him seriously. “We keep usin’ the shuttles for stuff like this, stuff they aren’t designed for, and sooner or later we’re gonna run out of luck.”

Travis was privately of the opinion that one of them already had, but he wasn’t going to share that thought. He and Hoshi and Malcolm – and now, maybe, T’Pol – would see to it that nothing else happened to Trip for a while. And if this plan worked, hopefully they’d have Phlox helping them again too.

Hopefully, for Trip’s sake. Because after three weeks the engineer shouldn’t still be having dizzy spells, should he? And they all knew that the headaches were much worse than Tucker was letting on, he had a feeling even T’Pol had figured it out. That was why Travis was here now, at Sickbay, getting ready to pull his very best innocent act on Phlox.

It was going to work, too – the only person it didn’t work on was his mother. Well, and Hoshi. Everyone else fell for it, though.

Sickbay looked deserted, the only signs of life the small rustlings made by Phlox’ menagerie of creatures in their cages, but Travis knew the doctor was there and just not showing himself. Come to think of it, Phlox had been hiding from the crew ever since…well, since before the funeral. The navigator grimaced. Someone should have noticed that sooner too. Maybe today’s little ‘frontal assault’ would benefit more than just Trip.

Travis walked straight through Sickbay to the cupboards where the first aid supplies were kept and started pulling out the items on his list, muttering not quite under his breath as he did. “Okay there’s that, and more burn gel – a lot more burn gel, what the heck is he thinking, only two tubes? That won’t last the week, five maybe…”

Footsteps behind him, very close, and a sudden voice over his shoulder that sounded much less confident than Travis was used to hearing it. “Ensign Mayweather, what are you doing?”

Travis smiled. Here we go... “I’m just refilling Commander Tucker’s first aid box for him, sir,” he answered pleasantly, glancing back but not turning around or stopping what he was doing. “He was running kind of late this morning, I told him I’d take care of it.”

“Commander Tucker’s…” Phlox circled around him to take a better look at the small pile of supplies, then picked up the padd and frowned at the list. “Is this for the engineering department?”

“Oh no, it’s for him.” Travis said, fighting the urge to grin; this was too easy. “He’s been having a lot of little accidents on duty lately, he keeps burning himself.” He held up one of the tubes of burn gel, the special kind used for plasma burns. “He ran out.”

Phlox took the tube from his hand, looking unhappy. “Did he…did he happen to say why he had been so accident prone of late, Ensign?”

Travis shrugged, keeping the gesture nonchalant, and pulled another package out of the cupboard to gesture with. “I think it’s because he starts getting dizzy when the painkillers wear off and his headache comes back,” he said. “He said he has it under control.”

“Obviously not.” It wasn’t the dryly sarcastic remark the doctor would usually have come out with, it sounded more guilty than anything. Phlox took the package of painkillers away from Travis too, then picked up the padd and scanned the list. “I don’t suppose you…happen to know how many of these he’s been taking, do you?”

Travis shrugged again. “I really don’t know, sir. He says the headaches are getting better…but I think maybe he’s just getting used to them.” He didn’t have to feign the concern in his look. “Is that bad?”

Phlox’ pale blue eyes stared into his for a moment and then dropped again to the medicines in his hands – hands Travis suddenly noticed were shaking. “It isn’t good,” the doctor murmured distractedly. He looked back up when Travis touched his shoulder. “Ensign?”

“It’s okay, Doctor Phlox,” Travis told him gently. He didn’t want to make the Denobulan feel any worse than he already was, that wouldn’t help anyone. “Trip understands, we all do.” He squeezed the shoulder under his hand gently. “He says you were a really good father to him.”

“I did my best. I must admit, it was pleasant to have…” The doctor stopped mid-sentence and pierced Travis with a sharp look. “Wait, he told you this…recently?”

“About a week ago, yeah.” The doctor dropped what he was holding and took a step back, and Travis was immediately concerned. “Doc…”

“I should have guessed,” Phlox all but whispered. “After what happened, the way the clone retained his memories…I should have thought.” He closed his eyes, shutting the pain inside, refusing to share it. “This has been a nightmare, one error after another.”

“It’s been a nightmare for Trip too,” Travis informed him. “But he doesn’t blame you for that.”

Phlox just shook his head. “How much does he…”

“Remember?” Travis was really feeling sorry for the doctor now; the Denobulan couldn’t even meet his eyes to ask the question. “All of it, I think. He told us it took him a while to sort all the memories out – me, Hoshi and Lieutenant Reed,” he answered the sudden questioning look. “Before Hoshi figured out that he was still himself, we thought…” Travis swallowed the ball of guilt that rose in his own throat for the two weeks of isolation Trip had gone through while they’d avoided him. “We thought the brain damage had been permanent, everyone did. You and the captain and the sub-commander were acting like the person he’d been was gone, like it hurt you to even be around him.”

“It did – it does,” Phlox admitted with a sigh. “But the damage was all repaired, I assure you. I should have anticipated that there would be questions regarding that among the crew, however. Was it…” This time he did look Travis in the eye. “How bad was it?”

“He thought he was dead.” Travis wasn’t going to lie. “Or at least, he thought he was dead to all of us. Going to the funeral really messed him up.” Phlox just nodded, evidently agreeing, and the expression that flickered briefly across his face told Travis that Trip going to his clone’s funeral might not have been the doctor’s idea. “I think he was planning to kill himself, when the mission was over, even though he didn’t come right out and tell us that.”

Pale blue eyes sharpened, narrowed. “And now?”

“He’s doing a lot better,” the navigator assured him. “We’re making sure he eats and works out, he’d lost a lot of weight. And I think it helps that he has Porthos to take care of now, too.”

Phlox raised an eyebrow. “The captain gave Commander Tucker his dog?”

Uh oh. “Um, not exactly, sir…”

“Ah, I see.” To his surprise, the doctor smiled slightly, waving away further explanation. “The exact details are not important, Mr. Mayweather. I believe the new…arrangement is probably in the best interests of all concerned. And you are correct, caring for a dependant creature can be very…beneficial.”

Travis was all sympathy. “Was it ‘beneficial’ for you?”

Another slight smile, tainted by sadness. “Very. He was a delightful child.”

“He didn’t die,” Travis returned, grimacing when the doctor flinched; he hadn’t meant for it to just pop out like that. But he really wasn’t sorry it had, either. “He’s still there, sir, he remembers it all. He didn’t die.”

“No,” Phlox agreed, making a face of his own. “No, he didn’t die.” Pale blue eyes lifted. “But that does not change the fact that I killed him.”

“If you hadn’t killed him, he’d be dead,” Travis pointed out, and couldn’t help a small grin when Phlox looked at him like he’d lost his mind. The navigator shrugged. “Well, it’s true, right?”

The Denobulan was silent for a long moment, staring at him in shock, and then he slowly nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He straightened. “Thank you, Mr. Mayweather, for providing that insight into the situation; I had not considered things in that light.”

Travis shrugged. “My mom says sometimes you need someone else to look at a problem before you can solve it,” he said. He held up another tube of burn gel questioningly. “Should I let you take care of this?”

Phlox took it from him with another nod. “Yes, you don’t need to concern yourself…” He stopped, smiled. “At least, you don’t need to concern yourself with restocking the commander’s first aid kit as he won’t be needing it any more. I don’t doubt you will continue to concern yourself with his well-being, though.”

“Nope,” Travis agreed. He picked up his padd. “I’d better get going, I’m due on duty in half an hour.” He started to leave, then stopped and turned back. “Oh, the sub-commander said Commander Tucker should be fine for most of his shift, she tried some advanced neuropressure on him this morning to try to get rid of his headache.”

“Really?” Phlox sounded surprised. “How long has that been going on?”

“This morning was the first time I know of.” Travis shrugged again. “She’s been avoiding him too.”

“Yes, I’d expect so.” The doctor seemed to be thinking about something, then he shook it off and started putting the supplies back in the cupboard. “Thank you for your…assistance, Ensign, it was much appreciated.”

“Sure thing, Doctor Phlox,” Travis told him, and left Sickbay even happier than he’d gone in. Mission accomplished, now it was up to Phlox. His smile almost immediately faltered a little; there was still the problem with the captain to be settled too…but that was up to Malcolm. And Malcolm only needed one more little push.

Thinking that that could very well happen today, even this morning, Travis started to hum again.

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