A Friend in Need
sequel to “No More, No Less”
by Setcheti
Disclaimer:
Author’s Note: I couldn’t leave it like that, it was driving me nuts. Not a perfect resolution, maybe, but a beginning. And it fixed something else that had been bugging me all season, so all to the better. You must read “No More, No Less” first for this story to make sense.
Trip walked out of the shuttlebay feeling light. Confronting Jon had lifted an intolerable weight off him. It wasn’t the only weight he was carrying, but it had been one he didn’t need and was glad to get rid of.
He didn’t think he was ever going to be able to forgive the captain – to be honest, he didn’t really think of the man as his friend any more and didn’t think he’d ever be able to again. And now he knew damn good and well that Archer no longer saw him that way. Trip snorted softly to himself, shaking his head. He could have forgiven Archer for sacrificing someone to save him because of their friendship – he wouldn’t have been too happy about it, but he would have understood and eventually gotten over it. But Archer hadn’t saved him because they were friends.
The memory was very clear in Trip’s head. He was only here because of the mission.
And everyone knew it. Was it any wonder no one wanted anything to do with him these days? He wasn’t a person any more, he was just something they needed to finish what they were doing. Trip, the person, had been buried two weeks ago and the whole ship had mourned. There’d barely been a dry eye at the funeral, even among the Marines.
Trip’s had been, of course, but that was only because he’d been so much in shock over what had happened that he was too numb to react.
Not to mention that he hadn’t really known how to feel about seeing himself dead and attending his own funeral with all his friends crying around him.
But of course, they weren’t his friends any more. Friends were for people. Friends were for the living. Trip Tucker was dead, he knew that for a fact, and what was left wasn’t a person. He swiped irritably at one leaking eye. He wished being dead didn’t hurt so much, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not any more. He was just here to keep the ship running long enough to stop the Xindi, that was all. His captain had said so, more than once.
And what was worse, he’d meant it. Trip had seen it in his eyes.
He’d reached his destination by this time, and he set about letting himself in. He wasn’t worried about getting caught; Archer wouldn’t be coming out of the shuttlebay any time soon. And he wasn’t worried about Archer coming after him to reclaim his property either, because the man wasn’t going to face him again if he didn’t have to and after what he’d seen two weeks ago this wasn’t something that he thought would even make much of a ripple.
He hadn’t realized Jonathan Archer had changed so much, since the Xindi. And it scared him.
The door slid open and Porthos raised his head to look…and lit up with canine joy when he saw Trip. The engineer scooped him up and cuddled him, then put him back down and started gathering up the little dog’s bed and toys and dishes. “Movin’ in with me, boy,” he told the happy dog with a smile. God, it was so good to have someone glad to see him, even if it was just a dog. Even when he’d awakened in Sickbay, everyone had been avoiding him – including Phlox. Trip sighed. He’d have to see about ‘appropriating’ a medkit to keep in his quarters, just in case he got hurt; it wasn’t that he thought Phlox wouldn’t do his duty if something happened, but he wasn’t sure just how much of his duty the Denobulan doctor could force himself to do so maybe it would be better if he tended to his own needs for a while.
Well, and to Porthos’ needs, of course. He smiled again, the expression feeling strange because he hadn’t had opportunity to use it in a while. Trip couldn’t believe how Archer had neglected his dog since they’d been out here. Maybe he’d been using the dog for something, some tiny shred of comfort he could derive from knowing it was in his quarters waiting for him, but obviously whatever the man needed from Porthos wasn’t giving the little dog enough attention to keep it from pining. That was about to change, though. “Comin’ to live with me,” he repeated to the watching dog as he rooted underneath Archer’s bunk for escaped toys. “Maybe I can’t be anything to anyone in the crew, but I can make sure you have what you need until this is over.” He sat up and plucked dust bunnies off the toy he’d found before tossing it into the dog bed, his expression turning thoughtful. He’d have to put some thought into what to do with Porthos once the mission was over. Giving the dog back to Archer was out of the question…Trip shrugged and stood up, brushing dust off his uniform. He’d deal with that when the time came. If he couldn’t find a proper owner to care for Porthos, he’d take the dog with him; better that then let it pine itself to death someplace without anyone to love it.
He carefully pushed away the knowledge that his own future plans had been decided for pretty much the same reason; he wasn’t in denial, he just didn’t want to start crying again. Not here, anyway. Back in his quarters, with Porthos curled up beside him, then he could let go again for a while. Maybe he could even cry himself to sleep; his insomnia was back and getting gradually worse now that there was no one to help him control it. T’Pol hadn’t even spoken to him on duty unless she had to, and when she had no other choice her voice was so icy it burned. No, there would be no more Vulcan neuropressure sessions, never again.
And that hurt in a different way, in a much deeper place. She couldn’t look at him either…but he couldn’t forget that kiss, the culmination of what they’d been building together these few months, the dream he’d never expected to come true. Another leak, this time falling onto the dog bed as he picked it up and therefore not needing to be swiped away. T’Pol was mourning him too, and he felt bad for her but not for himself. “Better to have loved and lost, buddy,” he told Porthos, who wagged his tail in agreement and grinned. Trip grinned back. “Okay then, let’s get home and then we’ll have somethin’ to eat, what do you say?”
Porthos yipped. Trip snapped on his leash and opened the door, and the little dog bounced out into the corridor, dragging him along behind, the finality of the door closing behind them almost lost in the moment. It was the beginning of a new life, for both of them. Trip might not be a person to anyone else on the ship, he might just be a very necessary tool called ‘Commander’ that the captain had been forced to pay far too much to keep for the good of their mission…but he could come home to Porthos after every lonely shift and just be Trip again, a wanted and needed and much-loved friend. A month ago that wouldn’t have seemed like near enough…but right now it was more than enough for him, more than enough.
Trip was almost – but not quite – whistling as he walked down the corridor on a heading for his quarters, but he stopped when he and Porthos rounded a corner and met Hoshi Sato coming the other way. The linguist looked at him and then quickly away, and Trip just managed not to wince when she moved out of his way, obviously trying to put distance between them. “Commander,” she acknowledged him nervously as she hurried past.
“H…Ensign,” Trip responded softly. His memories…he’d let them lead him down to the shuttlebay, and they were all crystal clear in his mind right now. And he owed Hoshi something, something he needed to get taken care of while he had the chance. “Hoshi?”
He looked back over his shoulder just enough to see that she stopped, but he kept his eyes down so he wouldn’t make her any more uncomfortable. “I just wanted to thank you, that’s all.”
Hoshi stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Commander?”
Trip flinched just slightly, in spite of himself. “I…for readin’ with me. Before.” A slight smile, a memory of pleasure, touched his face briefly and then disappeared. “Just wanted to let you know I appreciated it. It was one of my favorite books, growin’ up, made me feel good to read it again.” He swallowed, turned away again. “Anyway, didn’t mean to hold you up. Just wanted to say thanks.”
“You’re…you’re welcome,” the linguist answered automatically, and Trip flinched again and let Porthos pull him back into motion. He’d heard the tears in her voice and they hurt him, knowing that he’d hurt her by reminding her…but had he turned around again, he would have seen that they were tears of joy and not grief. Hoshi just stood there in the corridor, hand pressed to her mouth and tears flowing down her face as realization exploded inside her that they’d buried an empty shell, not the man himself. They hadn’t known… She took off down the corridor at a run, needing to find Travis, needing to find Malcolm and tell them that their friend hadn’t died after all.
Trip didn’t know it yet, but he’d just become a person again. And even once he did, he still wouldn’t be giving up Porthos.