The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea- Chapter 17

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Sita Z

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

****

Chapter 17

"Good news, Commander." Phlox shut off his hand scanner, smiling broadly. "It looks like you'll be able to return to duty a little earlier than I had expected. Your metabolism has stabilized during the last six days, and your scar is healing just fine. Another three days, perhaps four, and I'll give you permission to return to Engineering. Of course..." The doctor held up a hand. "Half-time duties. Four hours a day. No more." He grinned. "And no double shifts in the armory, this time."

Trip grinned weakly in response, watching from his place at the desk as the doctor fussily tucked away his scanner. Phlox was done here, but it was obvious that the doctor still had something on his mind. When instead of leaving Phlox leaned against the edge of the desk, studying him with an air of concern, Trip knew that he'd guessed right.

"Commander..." Phlox hesitated.

"Yeah, doc?"

"Lieutenant Reed told me you haven't been in the messhall a lot lately. And the Captain says you haven't had dinner in the captain's mess, either."

Trip stared at the warp core schematic on the screen in front of him. "I've been eatin' in my quarters."

"Do not lie to me, Commander." Phlox sounded sharp now. "As a fact, I know that you have reduced your caloric intake to a level that is not healthy."

There was no sense in denying it. "I'm sorry," Trip said, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "I'll try not to skip any more meals."

There was a pause. Trip knew he had taken the wind out of the doctor's sails by giving in without a fight, but to be honest, he didn't care. He only wanted for the doctor to leave.

"Commander," Phlox began, softer than before, "if there's anything you'd like to talk about, I'm there. I know it's not easy for you, but there is no shame in accepting help. We're worried about you. The Captain, Lieutenant Reed... they have all voiced their concern."

"Thanks, doc," Trip said quietly without looking up. "But there's nothin' I want to talk about."

Phlox sighed, and pushed himself away from the desk. Trip heard the sound of the door opening and closing, and let out a breath of relief. The doctor wouldn't return until tomorrow, and until then there would be no concerned glances, no worried questions if he was feeling alright. Trip welcomed the feeling of being alone. When he was alone, he could distract himself, bury himself in warp core schematics and Engineering reports so he wouldn't have to listen to his own thoughts. He'd become rather tired of them during the last six days, and tried everything in his power to escape his broodings, if only for a short time.

Trip knew that his work was a distraction only as long as it was displayed on the screen in front of him, representing a challenge his mind could focus on. When he switched off the monitor, his thoughts would return, and together with them the overwhelming feeling of loss he couldn't seem to cope with.

But it was better than nothing. As long as he avoided leaving his mind unoccupied for too long, and found excuses not to talk to people, whose concern only reminded him of what he was trying to push away, he got by pretty well. T'Pol would be proud of him if she knew how effectively he had learned to suppress his emotions.

What if she had died on the way back to Thera? What if she hadn't been able to adapt to her new environment, what if her body hadn't been able to cope with the changes?

Trip closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the edge of the table. He couldn't escape these thoughts, no matter how hard he tried. One unguarded moment, and they would pop back up, tormenting him when he was trying to go to sleep, and pouncing on him whenever his scar hurt, or his body found another way to remind him of what he had gone through.

And he was so tired. Physically and mentally. The prospect of returning to duty in a few days stirred only weak anticipation within him - part of him dreaded walking into his department only to be greeted by worried looks and questions if he was alright. People kept asking him that - are you alright. Implying that he wasn't. Implying that he ought to tell them about it because it would make him feel better. The idea that maybe Trip didn't want to feel better, that, in fact, he had no right to feel better, never seemed to occur to them.

Slowly, Trip straightened up again, and looked at the blue lines of the schematic etched on the screen. They seemed to blur before his eyes the longer he looked at them. Not a very pleasant feeling. Shutting off the monitor, Trip got to his feet. He might as well go to bed; it was quite early in the evening, but it made no real difference whether he sat on his desk chair and stared at the walls, or lay on his bunk and stared at the ceiling.

He was about to enter the head when the door signal sounded. For a moment, Trip considered not answering and pretending he was already asleep, but then decided against it. Most people knew he wasn't in the habit of going to bed early, and there would only be more questions if he didn't answer the door.

"Come," he called, and the bulkhead slid aside, revealing - not unexpectedly so - Jonathan Archer.

"Trip?" The Captain had one hand one the doorframe. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Trip gestured at the desk chair. "Sit down."

Archer complied, and Trip sat on his bunk, suddenly feeling reminded of the time when Jon had come to his quarters almost two months ago. Same worried look, same air of someone who had come to make things right. It was so typical of Jon, and Trip felt strangely touched, even though he had no wish to talk to the Captain - or anyone else, for that matter.

"You know, you've left me hanging earlier," Archer said. "I invited Malcolm and T'Pol for dinner, and I was counting on you, to, ah, liven things up a little." He grinned. "As it was, we managed a good average of five words per minute, so I guess I shouldn't be feeling too bad."

Despite himself, Trip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, Cap'n. I was feelin' a little tired, and thought I'd go to bed early."

Jon refused to acknowledge the rather blunt hint. "You've been tired a lot lately. Have you talked to Dr.Phlox about it?"

Trip sighed. "I'm okay. Phlox says I can go back on duty in three or four days."

Archer studied him for a moment. "You don't seem too happy about it."

Trip simulated surprise. "'Course I am. I'm fed up with starin' at the walls of this den." His words had a false ring even to his own ears, and he saw that Jon didn't believe him for one second.

"Phlox told me you haven't been eating," the Captain continued. "Are you feeling alright, Trip?"

There it was again. The question that seemed to follow him wherever he went. No, Trip wanted to shout, I'm not feeling alright and I don't want to feel alright, either. But he kept his mouth shut, turning his head to look out the window instead. Silence followed, and Trip began to hope the Captain would leave if he refused to give an answer. Jon stayed put, however, and Trip could feel the Captain's eyes on him as he continued to stare out at the stars.

"Do you miss her that badly?"

The question came quietly, but Trip jumped as if Jon had started to yell without warning. To his dismay he suddenly felt his eyes filling with tears. Jon's question's had touched something in him, something that had been close to the surface all the time and was now welling up with a force that surprised him. He tried his best to hide his tears from the Captain, furtively wiping his eyes with his head turned away, but it was too late. Jon had gotten up, and was now sitting down next to him, putting an arm around him despite Trip shaking his head and trying to pull away.

"It's okay," Jon told him softly, "it's okay."

Trip struggled weakly for another moment, but then it got too much, and he relaxed against Jon's shoulder, giving in to the tears he had been holding back for so long. Part of him was embarrassed at letting the Captain hold him like a small child, but all in all it didn't really make a difference. It wasn't like he had that much dignity left to defend. He wept for a long time, and the feelings of loss and guilt shook his whole body as he sobbed into Jon's shoulder.

"I left her." It came out as a hoarse whisper, and Trip cleared his throat. "Maybe she's dead already, and it's all my fault. I left her."

"Trip." Archer's arm tightened around his shoulders. "What makes you think she's dead?"

"I don't know." Trip swallowed. "Maybe she couldn't cope with her new environment. She's... she's only two weeks old. Maybe it was too much. And it's my fault if she's dead."

The tears threatened to fall again.

"Trip, Dr. Phlox ran several scans to make sure she would be safe. He said there was no problem for her to go through decompression. And the conditions on Ah'Len's ship are made for Xyrillians. There is no reason she shouldn't be perfectly fine."

Trip knew all that. He had been telling himself over and over again, but deep down he was still afraid, no matter what the rational part of his mind believed.

"It's just that... I feel like I abandoned her. I... I took responsibility for her when I refused to undergo the operation, an' now I give her away to some strangers, because... because it's the easy way out."

Trip bit his lip, hard, to stop his voice from breaking.

"That's not true, Trip." Archer's voice was firm. "You didn't decide to give her to S'Raan and Ah'Len because it was the easiest thing for you to do. You wanted for Arh'Leen to grow up back on her homeworld, where she wouldn't be a stranger all her life. You were thinking of her when you made your decision."

"Was I?" Trip wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that he had decided what was best for Arh'Leen, not what would give him his old life back and relieve him of all responsibility.

"Yes, you were." Archer hesitated. "Tell me, Trip... do you miss her? Feel bad because she's gone?"

Trip covered his eyes, and nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. Yes, he missed her; he missed her so damn much.

"So it wasn't the easy way out, after all," Archer said quietly. "You miss her, you hurt because she's gone, and you still worry about her. If you had decided to give her away because you were shrinking back from the responsibility, you wouldn't be feeling that way. It wasn't the easy way out, Trip."

"Maybe not." Trip turned his head to look at Jon. "But I still feel it wasn't right. I... I keep thinkin', what if Ah'Len changes her mind. What if she doesn't keep her promise? There's nothin' I can do about it if she decides she can't take the responsibility, after all."

"Trip, even if she does: there's still S'Raan. And I don't think Ah'Len will change her mind. To tell the truth, I don't really like her attitude, but I do think she was being honest when she said she cared about Arh'Leen."

"I keep tellin' myself she was. She... she seemed really happy when I told her they could take Arh'Leen home with them." He hesitated, not sure he wanted to continue. "You know, Jon... it's more than that. Even if I knew for sure Arh'Leen was doin' fine, I still..."

"You'd still wish you had decided to keep her."

Trip started at that. Jon was right; it all came down to this. His doubts and worries were only an expression of the loss he had suffered, and all he really wanted was Arh'Leen back. As simple as that. And reminding himself that his decision had been right, that it was best for the child to go with the Xyrillians, only added to his distress. Knowing that Arh'Leen would be better off in life without him hurt worse than he cared to admit.

Trip felt Jon pulling him closer, holding him in a hug, and he let it happen.

"You know, Trip... you should be proud of yourself."

"Proud?" Trip let out a small laugh. "Why should I be proud?"

Jon didn't miss a beat. "You have all reason to, Trip. You handled this whole pregnancy business a lot better than any of us would have. Including myself." He hesitated. "You know, when the doctor told us about your condition I was very worried about you. I could have kicked myself for sending you to the Xyrillian ship in the first place, when we knew so little about their culture. But at the same time I caught myself thinking, thank God it wasn't me going to their ship. I'm... ashamed to admit it, but that is exactly what I thought."

Trip sensed that it wasn't easy for Jon to admit his feelings. He shook his head.

"Jon, I'm sure everyone felt that way. Hell, if this had happened to... to Malcolm, for example, you wouldn't've caught me standin' in line to switch places with him."

"Malcolm?" Jon chuckled, and for a moment they shared the... interesting image of a pregnant Malcolm Reed.

"That's what I mean, Trip." The Captain grew serious again. "You've been through one hell of an ordeal, and you showed more courage and responsibility than anyone could have expected you to. You decided against the operation, even though it meant endangering your own life, and you were fully prepared to give up part of your job to take care of the baby."

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice..."

"That's because you didn't allow yourself to make it a choice." Archer leaned back a little to be able to look at Trip. "You always put Arh'Leen's interests first, in every decision you made. And yes, I do think you can be proud of yourself."

Trip held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded, acknowledging what Jon had said even though he didn't fully agree with it. Maybe he had put Arh'Leen first, but why couldn't he accept his decision? Why was he still feeling as though he had made a mistake?

"It's jus' that... I miss her so much."

There, he'd said it. Admitted what he had tried to deny ever since she was gone. And Trip realized that on some level it helped, saying it out loud.

"I know, Trip." Archer's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I know you do."

There was nothing to add, and they sat in silence for a while, Archer's arm still resting on Trip's shoulder. Trip stared at the stars streaking past outside the window. His throat still hurt from crying, and his head was aching something fierce, but the hard lump that had been sitting in his chest all week had eased a little. It wasn't entirely gone, and wouldn't be for quite some time, but it was a little easier to bear now. And with every day that passed, Trip knew it would hurt a little less. A slow process, maybe, but one he welcomed nonetheless. Holding it all inside had never worked for him, and neither did it now.

"Did you say Phlox declared you fit for duty in three days?" Jon's voice broke into his thoughts, and Trip nodded.

"Three or four days, yes. He said half-time duties, though."

"Well, I'm sure we can bend that order a little."

Trip threw Jon a surprised glance, and the Captain grinned.

"T'Pol scanned that system of M-class worlds yesterday, and we're currently headed for the third planet. It seems to be rather rich in plant life, according to its atmosphere. Looks like we can finally do something to keep our exobiologists happy. Anyway, there's also quite a lot of water down there. I thought we might do a little underwater exploring, while we're at it. If you're feeling up to it, that is."

Trip was silent for a moment. It did sound tempting, but he was almost sure Phlox would have a fit if he learned of the Captain's plans.

"Sounds fun, but I don't think the doc would allow me to go divin' yet."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Jon said dryly. "And neither would I, just so we're clear on that. I was talking about doing a little snorkeling, camping on the beach, and the like. It's been all work and no play for quite some time now, and I think the crew is due for a little R and R. And you, too."

"Oh." Surprisingly enough, Trip felt himself getting excited at the idea." Sounds great, Cap'n."

"I was hoping you'd say so." Jon grinned. "Maybe we can even convince Malcolm to join us in a game of water polo."

Trip chuckled. It was the first time in days he actually laughed, and it still didn't feel quite right to him. In a way, he felt guilty about joking with Jon, and planning a vacation at a time like this. But he couldn't deny that he was looking forward to it. Sitting in the sun, feeling the warm sand under his feet... it sounded like fun. And maybe that was just what he needed.

"Well, we can always give it a try, can't we?"

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