What Little Boys Are Made Of - Part 2

The bridge was not a very loud place, but it was unnerving in this quiet moment. Sub-Commander T'Pol busied herself at her science station while awaiting the first signs of Shuttlepod Two carrying Commander Tucker back. Ensign Hoshi Sato monitored the airwaves for any communication from Trip or the planet's surface. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed sat, rigid, and scanned for any signs of assault from the planet they orbited. He was not about to misjudge these people as genial and passive. They were quite vindictive and harsh when it came to punishing any lawbreaker, no matter how minor the offense. Even though they knew nothing of the sentence Trip was given, they were informed that it would be severe.

Captain Jonathan Archer hovered over Ensign Travis Mayweather's shoulder.

"How long will it take to get there?" Archer said.

"Two days if we're just cruising. But if you want to make up time, I can get us there in a little over a day, sir." Travis answered.

"That's fine, Travis," Archer responded in monotone.

Travis frowned up in Archer's direction as the captain slowly moved to his command chair and sank into it. Archer hadn't really heard a word of what the ensign had said. Travis knew the captain's thoughts were with Trip. Trip was not only one of his crew, but Archer's best friend. Heck, Trip was like everyone's favorite cousin. They all wanted him back safe and sound, but the young ensign figured not one of them wanted it more than Captain Archer did.

"The shuttlepod has left the planet's surface, Captain." T'Pol announced. "It is on automatic controls. Commander Tucker's life signs are erratic."

Archer bolted from his chair and headed toward the lift as he called back, "Have Phlox meet me in launchbay two."

Archer met Phlox in the corridor and they both hurriedly made their way to the launchbay. Archer punched the controls with the side of his fist and the doors swished open.

The shuttlepod sat in the middle of the pad. Archer and Phlox moved to the side and waited a minute for the door to open. When it did not, Archer opened it himself. Phlox stood beside Archer as the latter peeked into the shuttlepod.

"Trip?" Archer quietly called out.

There was no response right away. But then, a few seconds later, there was the shuffling of boots on the floor of the pod. Trip came into view now, holding his hands upturned and curled against his stomach. His eyes were glassy, the lids fluttering heavily and his breathing labored.

"Ah didn't even say ouch, Cap'n..." Trip gasped before he dropped to his knees and pitched forward.

The beeping of the biobed and the soft breathing of the prone figure lying on it were the only sounds in sickbay. Phlox was busy monitoring the readings, so he was unaware of Archer's hand gently brushing back Trip's damp blond bangs. Not that Archer cared at the moment whether the doctor did take notice of the tender moment. Luckily, Trip was asleep or he would be upset at his friend's public show of affection towards him.

This moment was a revelation that Jon had not expected, though. He wasn't about to let anyone interfere. Looking down at the sedated man, he realized now that Trip meant more to him than just being his best friend. Even though Jon would never let Trip know it, he thought of the younger man as the little brother he never had. Now he knew why he always felt a bit more protective of his chief engineer than any other member of his crew did. Okay, overprotective.

"The breaks were very clean, so he should heal perfectly." Phlox finally said, looking up.

Archer snapped his head up. "How long will he sleep?"

"About another two hours."

Archer looked down at Trip, again, seeing the bulky bandages instead of his hands resting on his stomach.

"How long will he have them bandaged?"

Phlox sighed. "At least five days. A week at the most."

Archer moved toward the doors, then turned slowly to face Phlox.

"Doctor?"

"I'll let you know when he wakes up." Phlox gently assured his captain.

Archer nodded and slowly left sickbay.

Trip's eyes shot open, blurry at first, then clearing. He was in sickbay. He looked down to see enormous, white claws on his stomach.

"Afternoon, Commander."

Trip turned to his left to see Doctor Phlox standing there.

"How are you feeling?" Phlox asked as he checked the monitors.

Trip looked down at the claws again. It hadn't been a dream. That gall darn metal box had broken his hands and fingers.

Phlox turned his attention to his patient. "Commander, are you in any pain?"

"Where's the Cap'n?" Trip croaked, almost inaudibly.

"He's on his way. You've been coming around for the last ten minutes. How do you feel?" Phlox asked him.

"I had my hands crushed by a hideous lookin' machine. How the hell do ya think I feel?" Trip stared down at the bandages again, but looked past them to see
Jonathan Archer standing at the foot of the bed.

"Don't bite the doc's head off. This wasn't his doing." Archer said evenly.

"Yeah, ah know," Trip snapped. "I screwed myself up."

Archer regarded him. "Answer him."

Trip closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Hurts like hell."

"I'll get you something for the pain," Phlox said, moving off.

Archer moved around to the side of the bed. Trip opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"I talked to Robann before we broke orbit," Archer began, trying to keep his voice even. "He said you were very brave."

Trip let out a strangled laugh. "Oh, so that means I made ya proud of me?" The biting sarcasm made him cringe in regret.

"Trip, I haven't made any report about this yet." Archer shifted on his feet. "I haven't even contacted Admiral Forrest. I just don't know what the hell to say."

"Here we are," Phlox returned, holding out a hypospray. "You probably will fall back asleep when this mixes with the aftereffects of the sedative."

"Not yet," Trip said. "I need to tell you somethin', Cap'n."

"It will be a few minutes before it takes affect, Commander. If you don't finish what you have to say, you can when you wake up." And with that, Phlox placed the hypospray to Trip's neck and the familiar soft swoosh was heard. He patted Trip's shoulder and moved out of the room.

"My brother's letter from home. He wanted to tell me...my Uncle Chris died a week ago." Trip blurted out.

"I'm sorry," Archer said, moving closer.

"I'm not. But maybe that's what this was all about. I don't know."

"Wasn't that your mother's brother?" Archer recollected. "The one you told me you used to spend a few weeks with on his farm every summer?"

"Yeah. Until my aunt died when I was ten." Trip drew in a deep breath, the painkiller starting to work. "To say he didn't handle her death well is an understatement. That year I made my parents let me spend the whole summer with him `cuz I knew he was sad. But he was angry most of the time. He scared me."

"Why didn't you tell your parents to bring you home?"

Trip shook his head, lazily. "I couldn't tell 'em. I didn't want him to get into trouble."

"Trouble?" Archer wasn't sure he understood where this was going.

"He drank a lot. I used to run and hide in the barn or out in the woods. 'Til he passed out." Trip's eyelids started to get heavy, but he fought off the drug. "One time he came after me. I was in the barn, hidin' in a pile of hay. I heard him breathin'. Smelled the booze. He was so mad."

Trip closed his eyes, as his breathing became rapid. His jaw clenched as tightly as his eyes and he wasn't sure if it was to fight off the effects of the painkiller, or to keep from losing control.

"Did he hurt you, Trip?" Archer's gentle voice prompted.

"He pulled me out of the hay," Trip began, opening his eyes. "Threw me face down on top of it. And then I felt it."

Archer swallowed hard and fought back the urgency to know from his tone. "Felt what?"

Trip's eyes closed tightly again. "The first sting of his belt."

"He hit you?" Archer asked in disbelief.

Trip nodded his head, slightly. "The more I cried and begged him to stop, the harder he hit me. I guess I passed out. When I woke up, I was in bed. He came in and told me my folks were coming to get me in a few days and to stay out of his way. He said I better not talk about what happened, ever. And I never did. 'Til now."

"So, that's what happened down there on the surface." Archer realized, thinking out loud. "That little boy was you..." Archer's voice trailed off in thought. "Good Lord, Trip. He hit you until you passed out?"

Trip's eyes were misting over and his voice began to crack. "I guess I always hoped there was a chance he'd get in touch with me. Maybe to say he was sorry and even that he loved me. Now, it's gone. I just wanted you to know, sir."

"It was his loss, Trip." Archer consoled, placing his hand on Trip's shoulder. "Go to sleep and we'll talk more later."

"I'm sorry I screwed up, Cap'n. I didn't mean to." Trip couldn't hold on anymore and the tears streamed down his face as he bit his lip to keep the sobs from escaping.

"I know you didn't." Archer reassured him.

"Please, don't let 'em kick me off Enterprise for this..." Trip pleaded, letting the sobs out now.

"Shh," Archer shook his head, as he placed his hand on Trip's forehead. "I'll take care of everything."

Trip looked up at Jon. This was Jon now, not his captain. It was Jon whose hand was caressing him slowly, gently. Jon, his best friend for nearly 9 years whose mentoring helped him in his career and personal life. The man who had saved his life many times and chosen him for this historic mission. And Trip repaid him by becoming a convicted criminal on an alien world.

"God, I'm so sorry I did this to ya," Trip cried. "Ya always had faith in me..."

"I still do," Archer confirmed. "What happened down there was not your fault, Trip. I'm no psychologist, but what your uncle did to you when you were a kid hurt you a lot deeper and longer than you realized. You just pushed it away until now. Look, close your eyes and go to sleep. That's an order."

Trip's eyes fluttered closed and he let a few sobs escape before he took a deep breath and was sound asleep.

Continue to Part 3

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