1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: You guys know the drill, Star Trek characters belong to Paramount. I write for my enjoyment, not for financial benefit. 

A/N: This is my first published story, if you guys like the new doctor, please let me know. 

"Damn right it's your fault." 

The words assaulted the thin young man, coming out of the darkness and broadsiding him with their ferocity. The stench of death and self-hatred came from the surrounding shadow, assaulting the helpless man, wave after wave. He tried to run, to escape the despair that threatened to overtake him. 

"Dismissed." 

A single word came at him, knocking him to his knees. He scrambled to his feet, breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, eyes wide and fearful. The man knew that was coming, and although he knew there was no avoiding it, he tried anyhow. He started to run, making as much progress as it his joints were made of jello. 

The spoken words floated above him, just as the ground began to give. As he fell through the blackness, bits and pieces of that which was said made it to him, heightening his heartache and despair. 

"Earth has been attacked...Florida to Venezuela...seven million dead...she didn't make it." 

He fell faster now, screaming as the words pierced his mind, heart and soul. Somehow he knew where was no end to it; he would be falling forever, because she was gone, and he was all alone...   
  


Commander Charles Tucker III shot off his pillow, into a sitting position. Sweat poured down his face, his sleeping clothes and sheets were soaked with it. After a long minute, his breathing returned to normal, his heart ceased pounding against his ribs like a caged animal wanting to be freed. 

As it was every night he woke in this fashion, it took a moment for the orbital engineer to recall where he was. The nightlight he had installed underneath his bunk helped anchor him to reality when he woke to emptiness. He pushed a shaking hand through his damp hair. 'I can't go on like this,' he thought to himself. The dreams had been persisting for several weeks now, ever since the Starship Enterprise had heard the news of the attack on Earth. A shudder ran through his mind as he involuntarily remembered the day that had abruptly ended seven million lives. Tucker's little sister Elizabeth had been one of the casualties, and since hearing from his mother that she had been taken from them, he had ceased living. He was no merely existing, surviving from day to day until he could exact his revenge on those responsible for tearing up the Tucker family. 

Trip, as nearly everyone called him, disentangled himself from his sheets, and stood slowly. Experience had told him that trying to sleep after these kinds of dreams was a waste of time. He headed to the bathroom attached to his quarters, pealing off his clothes. While he waited for the icy cold shower water to warm up, he leaned heavily on the sink, staring hard at the mirror image before him. He was well aware of the effect his sometimes sleepless nights were having on his body. Dark bags hung under his blue eyes; his skin was pale. Weight had started to drop off his already lean frame. His uniforms were baggy. 

Trip stepped under the spray of water when it had become as hot as he could stand it. His little sister was dead. He found it impossible to put into words what he felt. It was almost as if part of him was missing, ripped away from him without warning. Standing under the water pouring over him, he felt the despair he had been battling for weeks bubbling up inside him. He knew it would be so easy to give up. He could join his sister, and not have to worry about the damned Xindi anymore. But he also knew that wasn't him. Charles Tucker III didn't run from challenges. Trip clenched his jaw, steadfastly refusing to give in. He shut the water of suddenly, and stepped out of the stall, wrapping a towel around his waist. A quick glance at the chronometer told him he was three hours early for his shift. Trip found himself in these situations more often than not as of late. He had made a habit of showing up for work several hours early, and staying way past the end of his shift. Engineering kept his mind on useful things, instead of wondering if his baby sister felt any pain. 

Commander Tucker roughly dried himself off, and dressed in a clean uniform. He stopped at his desk briefly, slipping a PADD into his chest pocket before continuing on to the mess hall. His footfalls echoed on the deck plating below him as he hurried to the lift. It was a short jaunt one deck down to the mess hall, and upon arriving, Trip was dismayed to realize he was not alone. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, tactical officer, sat at a table in the corner, several PADD's spread about him, a cup of tea in his hand. Reed looked up, and smiled at his senior officer. 

"Good morning, sir." 

Trip pasted a friendly smile on his face. "Morning, Malcolm." He stepped over to the dispenser, and slid a mug under the nozzle. "Coffee, black, hot." 

The steaming liquid poured into the cup, and Trip carried it over to Malcolm's table. "You're up late, aren't ya, Mal?" 

The British officer looked up, pushing the PADD's away with a sweep of his hand. "Actually, early. I wanted to get a head start on these reports." 

Trip nodded knowingly. How many times had he offered the same excuse for an early morning? Too often to count, without doubt. "How are those targeting sensors working for ya?" Same old, Trip thought to himself. Talk of work stalled the eventual turn every conversation seemed to take. He didn't want to talk about his sister, that much should've been obvious. 

"Very well,"the Lieutenant replied. "Last adjustment has kept nicely." 

"Good." Malcolm's grey eyes kept moving from the coffee in Trip's hand to his face, and back again, in a way that made the engineer nervous. 

"Have you been sleeping alright, Commander?"the tactical officer asked, concern very nearly dripping off his words and congealing on the table beneath them. Tucker took another drink of coffee, one eyebrow raised slightly. 

"You turning mother hen on me, Lieutenant? Cause you should know the look doesn't suit you." Trip had discovered long ago that reminding Malcolm of the disparity in their ranks did well to shut him up. It was a cruel thing to do, but as the engineer beared witness now, it worked. The Brit's face fell just noticeably, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

"It's just idle concern, Commander. Think nothing of it." 

When the chief engineer considered the changes Malcolm had gone through since coming onboard, he almost apologized for his shortness. The Malcolm who had first reported to Enterprise would never have expressed worry over the sleeping habits of one of his superior officers. Only after Trip's badgering had Reed come out of his shell. The classic words, "I've created a monster," suddenly came to mind. 

"Sorry to leave ya, Mal, but engineering calls." He stood, and as he swallowed the last of his coffee, hoped that Malcolm wasn't angry. 

"Will you be joining Travis, Hoshi and I for dinner?"Lieutenant Reed asked, standing also. His eyes held a look of certainty, as if he already knew what the answer was going to be. 

Trip smiled, then nodded. "That would be great. I'll see ya later, Malcolm." He turned away, smiling to himself at the look of complete surprise that had come over the tactical officer's face. For weeks now, his invites to dinner had been turned down. It was no wonder he was surprised when Tucker actually accepted it. After dropping his mug into the cleaner, he left the mess hall, engineering bound, feeling considerably better than he had on arrival.   
  
  
  


Lieutenant Laura Simmons stared hard at the computer screen before her, her upper lip curled in a frustrated scowl. 'This can't be right,'she thought to herself. 'No way do we have this many people left to see.' The list of names on the screen in front of her seemed impossibly long, but when she considered why they were on that list, she understood. Nobody liked annual physicals; it was a law of nature. It took a severely twisted mind to enjoy being poked and prodded while sitting on a cold table in your underwear. Being a doctor herself, Laura was sadly no excused from the process. 

She pushed herself away from the desk, after programming the computer to send those on her list a reminder to schedule their appointments. She heard the door to sickbay open, and looked up from her wild stretch to see Malcolm Reed enter. 

"Hi, Mal,"she said, standing and walking over to greet him. She crossed her arms and studied him carefully. "Now, let me think...all four limbs visibly intact. You walked in under your own power...I'm gonna say it's time for your allergy shot." 

The once stiff upper lipped officer smiled warmly. "Let it never be said that you don't know your stuff." 

"Have a seat while I get the hypospray ready." Malcolm lifted himself onto a biobed, and waited, his feet dangling lazily over the edge. 

"You know,"Laura said as she loaded the hypospray. "I think that the pineapple is the one fruit that doesn't want to get eaten." 

A frown creased the dark haired man's forehead, trying to see the logic in that statement and failing miserably. "You've lost me. How did you arrive at this conclusion?" 

The young doctor smiled as she came towards him. "Just look at it. It's all spiny and hard. It's dangerous looking." 

The tactical officer smiled slyly and waggled his eyebrows. "It's often the dangerous looking ones that are the tastiest." 

Laura promptly burst into laughter, and after a long minute, Malcolm joined in. The medical center of the ship was filled to capacity with echoing sounds of happiness. When she felt as though she could laugh no more, Laura straightened from where she had fallen against her friend, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

"I can't believe you said that,"she said, picking up the hypospray from where she had set it down. "You've been spending way too much time with Trip." 

The smile melted from Malcolm's face faster than icicles off the devil's nose. "Speaking of the Commander," he began, "I don't think he's well." 

"That can be taken many ways, Mal. You'll have to be more specific." 

Reed took a moment to outline the interaction between him and the Commander several hours earlier. "He seemed different, out of character. I don't really know what else to say, other than he seemed to be putting on a show." 

Laura nodded slowly as she pressed the hypospray against his neck. "You do realize that's not enough for medical intervention. But I know you worry, so I'll try to talk to him." 

Malcolm smiled, and rubbed his neck gently. "I appreciate it. Thank you for the shot." 

He slid off the bed, waved a hand in goodbye and headed towards the doorway. As luck would have it, he nearly ran into Commander Tucker, who was on his way in. 

"Hey, Lieutenant. Allergy shot?"he asked, peering past Malcolm into sickbay. 

He nodded. "Is everything alright, sir? I don't want to be a mother hen, but..." 

"It's okay, Malcolm,"Trip interrupted with a smile. He pulled a PADD out of his chest pocket. "Just dropping off some appointments for the doctor. I'll see ya at dinner." 

He patted the armoury officer on the shoulder, then continued on his way through the doors. Trip waited until he was sure Malcolm was on his way before locking the doors behind him. He had become quite good at rigging the door to look as if it had locked accidentally, in case anyone decided they needed to see the doctor. He dropped the PADD on a nearby table, then looked around the room expectantly. Every sign that the crew was healthy registered to Commander Tucker on a secondary level; the medical center looked unused. Spotlessly clean, but uninhabited. He took a few steps forward, peering behind a curtain hung around a biobed. He sniffed the air experimentally, searching for that famaliar perfume that could make his heart race with just a whiff... 

A figure suddenly leapt out from behind another bed, and latched onto him, thin but strong arms dressed in blue fabric wrapping tightly around his chest. Grinning, Trip took the hands into his own. "I was wondering where you were hiding." 

He twisted around in his embrace to face the smiling blue eyed visage of Doctor Laura Simmons, his longtime friend and ally. Her shoulder length dirty blond hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, her face sparkled with the smile that she saved just for him. 

"Dr. Phlox went to get lunch,"she explained, laying her head on his shoulder as she hugged him close. "I practically had to kick his Denobulan butt out of here." 

Trip kissed the top of her head. "Did he suspect anything?" 

Her nodding action knocked his chin gently. "Of course he did. But what's happening in actuality is so out in left field that he would never guess. We're safe." 

She looked up at him, standing on her tip toes to kiss him softly. When he failed to respond in his usual fashion, she pulled back, looking up at him curiously. "Are you okay?" 

He frowned just noticeably. "Are you sure you want this? The Cap'n would be pissed if he found out." 

Laura stepped back as far as she could in his strong arms. "I know what I want. But what about you? If we get caught, you'd be in deeper. Are you sure you want to risk that?" 

He studied her face for a long minute, taking in the light dusting of freckles on her nose, the way her left eyebrow was raised slightly as she waited for an answer, the way she looked at him as if he was the center of her universe. His grin was inescapable, and as he pulled her tightly against him, he whispered, "I've never been more sure of anything." He bent at the knees, so when their lips met, it was at the same altitude. The kiss was everything a kiss should be, warm, soft, but passionate and thoroughly arousing. She ran her fingers through his hair, and when he lifted her up, giggled against his lips. She locked her legs around his hips, as Trip set her down on the edge of a biobed. He reached up to touch her face, smooth her hair, as if he didn't believe she was real. It was these tiny actions that made Laura's heart swell with love for the man, and as she pulled him closer, she realized it would never be enough. She could spend a thousand years with Charles Tucker III, and it would never be enough.   
  


Longtime Starfleet Officer Jonathon Archer checked his chronometer again, strumming his fingers impatiently against the table top. He eyed the identical meals set out before him, and snorted in frustration. Although Trip frequently canceled their lunch appointments because of work, he never shirked them all together. The Captain knew it had to be something very important, but reached out for the comm nonetheless. 

"Archer to Tucker." 

After a long moment of silence, a somewhat breathless Commander answered the page. "Tucker here, Cap'n." 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Commander." 

There was a moment's pause, then Tucker reappeared, sounding as if he was smiling, when he said, "nothing that I can't pick up later. What's up?" 

Archer frowned. "I was just sitting down to lunch when I couldn't help but notice how empty the room was." 

Another long pause, then an assuredly Tucker curse was transmitted through the comm. "I'm sorry, Cap'n. Completely forgot. Give me a few minutes, and I'll be right there." 

Trip turned away from the comm, his cheeks flushed bright red. "Jeez, I can't believe I forgot. He sounded pissed." 

Laura looked at him carefully from where she still sat on the biobed, her hair mussed, her uniform unzipped, and exposing her Starfleet issue under garments. Trip was in a similar state when he walked back over to her. She smiled immediately. 

"I don't suppose you're game to show up like that,"she said, zipping his uniform up as he did the same for her. The Commander chuckled softly. "No thanks. I like my balls where they are just now." 

She reached up to kiss him again. "So do I. See that they stay there, will you?" 

"I never was one to let down a lady." He leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Will I see you tonight?" 

"If you're around at dinner,"her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "Hoshi invited me to eat with them." 

She pulled away from the hug, a slight frown on her face. "Now let me look at you." 

"What do you think, boss? Am I fit for inspection?" He stepped back, holding her hands as she studied every square inch of his body. A devilish grin crossed her face. "Yes, I do think you are. And don't forget to show up for your dressing down tonight at twenty two hundred." 

He laughed, then leaned forward and kissed her again. "I'll see ya later, darlin'." 

Trip left sickbay in the best of spirits that he had been in for weeks. He had found out long ago that time spent with the ship's only human doctor could do that to him. Although the stress of having to keep their relationship private was beginning to mount, neither of them wanted the rest of the ship to know. Trip knew in his heart that Captain Archer would not be angry that they were together-maybe just hurt that he hadn't been told. It was Laura who didn't want them to go public; she had explained that she would hate to have the entire ship's eyes on them every time they were together. Tucker understood this well. 

He came to a stop outside the door to the Captain's mess room. One hand smoothed down his sandy blond hair while the other reached up for the door chime. The door slid open seconds later, and the Captain stood facing his Commander with his arms crossed. 

"What was so important that made you forget about lunch?"he asked, stepping aside to let Trip come in. Trip coughed into his hand quietly, then straightened, and said, "oh, you know me. Just got wrapped up in engineering repairs." 

He looked past Archer to see Malcolm sitting at the Captain's table, trying to blend into the wall. Another one of the Brit's not very effective anti-social tendencies. He smiled. 

"Hi, Mal. Joining us for lunch?" 

The Captain gently pushed Trip towards his seat. "It just occurred to me today that the three of us have never sat down the lunch together. Hope you like turkey, Commander." 

Trip sat down across from the Lieutenant, and eyed the meal set in front of him. It appeared to be a turkey sandwich on rye, with a small helping of greens to one side and a tall glass of milk. He nodded his head. 

"The turkey's a very noble bird, sir. Makes for a great meal." 

The Captain laughed as he picked up his own sandwich. "Chef makes a great club sandwich. Dig in, men." 

The two Starfleet men dutifully picked up their sandwiches, and took a great bite. Cap'n's right, Trip decided. Chef does make a good sandwich. As he swallowed the first bite, something occurred to him, and he turned to the Captain. 

"Where's T'Pol? She working through lunch again?" 

Jonathon shrugged. "You could say that. She scheduled her physical with Lieutenant Simmons today. You know how enjoyable those things are. I personally think she was trying to get out of having to eat lunch with us neanderthals again." 

Trip was unable to help the smile that crossed his lips, or the slight reddening of his cheeks. He quite enjoyed sitting through a physical with the beautiful doctor. Just thinking about her made his heart pound just a little bit faster... 

"Are you alright, Trip?" 

Tucker nearly choked on his mouthful of greens as he looked over to the Captain. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" 

The concern in the older man's eyes would've been endearing if not so comical. "You look flushed. Are you getting sick?" 

Trip shook his head vehemently. "No, I feel great." He took a long drink of milk and looked pointedly at Malcolm, hoping the Brit would get the hint and change the subject. It seemed they were getting better at wordless communication, because Lieutenant Reed turned to the Captain, his hand poised several inches above his plate. 

"I was hoping to run a few simulations on the adjustments Commander Tucker and I made to the forward phasers." He shot a look at Tucker that made certain it was known he expected an explanation later. 

Archer nodded. "That sounds fine, Malcolm, but lets leave work on the bridge. It's lunch time, time to let down your hair, so to speak." 

The rest of the meal was eaten in relative silence, isolated comments made at different times. It wasn't really about the conversation, though. All three men simply enjoyed the others company. They were all distinctly aware of how much closer they had become since the mission had began. 


	2. Denial

  
  


Lieutenant Simmons cursed her awful luck. All she could say was that it figured after some time spent with Trip, the officer with the best sense of smell on the whole ship would schedule her physical. She wondered if T'Pol would know that she and the chief engineer had been together simply by the way she smelled. Laura had written her thesis in medical school on the differences between human and Vulcan physiology, so she knew their chances of avoiding discovery were slim. And if given the choice, she would rather anyone else on the ship find out about their relationship before the science officer. At least she had a chance of convincing someone else to keep their secret. She knew there was nothing stopping T'Pol from reporting them to Admiral Forrest, or worse. 

With a sigh, she straightened the PADD on the biobed, and checked her chronometer. 3, 2, 1...She looked up just as the sickbay doors opened, and the Sub-Commander entered right on time, hands clasped firmly behind her, as usual. 

"Good Afternoon, Lieutenant,"she greeted, as she strode over. 

"To you, as well, Sub-Commander,"she replied with a slight nod of her head. She picked up her re-calibrated tricorder. "I'll have you out of here in no time at all." 

The Vulcan raised one eyebrow slightly. "Lieutenant, I see you have been fraternizing with Commander Tucker." 

She nearly dropped the tricorder in surprise, looking up at T'Pol with wide eyes. Surely she couldn't have figured it out that quickly. Could she? "Um, pardon?" 

T'Pol's face showed the Vulcan version of puzzlement. "I have never witnessed you to used such ambiguous human phrases. I assumed you learned them from the Commander." 

Laura's breath of relief came out in a rush. Of course. T'Pol hadn't smelled him on her. She had used her much appreciated sense of logic to deduce that they were spending time together. As friends. She managed to recover from her shock, and nodded. 

"Um, yes. He proved to be quite a conversationalist." 

"You experienced childhood with Mr. Tucker, correct?"she asked, as she pulled herself effortlessly onto a biobed. 

The Lieutenant frowned in concentration as she ran the tricorder over the Sub-Commander. "Yes, that's correct. My family moved in next to his when we were six." She reviewed the data that appeared on the PADD she had hooked up to the tricorder. 

"You knew his sibling? The one who was killed in the attack?" 

Laura hesitated for a moment, wondering where this line of questioning was going. She glanced up at T'Pol before changing the setting on her instrument. "Lizzie. Yes, I did. Why do you ask?" 

"Forgive me if this subject is not appropriate for you. I was simply having difficulty understanding the Commander's inability to move on." She sat stock still, waiting patiently as the tricorder worked through it's results, and Laura tried to formulate a response. 

"To be direct, Sub-Commander, you make it sound as if he doesn't want to. He's doubting himself, wondering if there was anything he could've done to stop it. Self-doubt is a common human trait." She shut the tricorder down, and set it on a nearby table. Picking up the PADD, she carefully read the results the different scans had given her. 

"It is a pointless exercise. Commander Tucker could not have stopped the attack any more than he could save his sister had he been there." 

Laura smiled sadly. "I've told him that many times. So have countless other people. To everyone else, it's obvious. To him, we're all just trying to make him feel better." She set the PADD down, and crossed her hands in front of her. "I'm all done here, Sub-Commander. You're in perfect working order. And thank you for being so prompt about scheduling your physical. It's very appreciated."   
  


T'Pol slid off the biobed, and straightened, standing poised and ram rod straight. She inclined her head slightly. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You make the process somewhat bearable." 

Laura smiled as the Sub-Commander left. She knew that her comment was as close to a compliment as she was going to get. She carried the PADD over to her computer and set to work on entering the new data. She wished it were as easy as T'Pol let on. Just push a button, push a lever, and whammo! Trip realizes the attack had nothing to do with him, and would've happened whether he was there or not. Despite his steadfast denials, Laura, and just about everyone else on board, knew that the Commander was having trouble coping. He wasn't eating well; meals were much too short, or non-existent all together. Being a doctor, it frustrated Laura that she could not help someone who was obviously in need. 

All thoughts of Trip were pushed from her mind as the doors to sickbay opened, and Dr. Phlox entered, carrying a plate of greens from the mess hall. 

"Did Chef have what you were looking for?"she asked, rising and joining the doctor on the far side of the room. He set the plate down next to one of various cages around the room, and peered in through the mesh top. 

"He most certainly did. Although he was rather irate when I suggested that I was feeding them to a Tandarian mud beetle." 

Laura chuckled softly. "I imagine he was. Mud beetles don't express their appreciation like people do." She handed Phlox a piece of lettuce. 

"Oh, they do if you look in the right places,"he said quietly, placing the leaf carefully down on the floor of the dirt filled tank. "I understand the Sub-Commander had her physical?" 

She nodded. "Yup. Everything up to specs." A slight frown crossed her face, as she considered how to phrase her next question. 

"Um, doctor, has Commander Tucker been in to see you? Um, for his physical?" For a moment, Dr. Phlox didn't respond. He spoke quietly to the small six legged creature, stroking the hard mottled brown shell that covered its back. Then he straightened, replaced the lid to the tank, and turned to face Laura. 

"Commander Tucker needs medical attention. He thinks it has escaped me just how much weight he has lost, and how much trouble he is having sleeping. However, he will not come to see me simply because I wish it. Perhaps you can talk to him. You two seem to have a fairly strong relationship." 

The Lieutenant opened her mouth to get defensive, but changed her mind and shut her mouth with a snap. Like she had done earlier, she had assumed that Phlox knew about Trip and her. In reality, he was only talking about their childhood together. 

"I'll do my best, but I can't give you any guarantees."   
  


An hour after meeting the Captain for lunch, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed left the mess hall together, heading for the lift that would take them to their respective departments. After a few moments, Malcolm spoke up, with a forceful sounding casualness. 

"So, you said you were doing repairs in engineering before lunch?" 

Trip cast him a sidelong glance, before saying, "yeah, that's right. What's it to you?" 

The Lieutenant suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, I went down to engineering this morning, to see if you could look over some specs. Your crew said you weren't there, hadn't been there all morning." 

Trip's anger rose quickly. Instead of thinking for a minute, formulating a strong and believable excuse, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You accusing me of lying, Lieutenant?" 

Oh, that's just great, he thought to himself. So unlike me to speak without thinking. 

He expected the younger man to shrink under his gaze. Certainly, a few years ago, he would've. But partly thanks to Commander Tucker, Malcolm had changed. He stood tall and unmoving, and shook his head. 

"No, sir, I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm not really used to this whole close friendship thing, but I was pretty sure it included some trust." 

He turned sharply on his heels, and continued on to the lift. Trip watched him go, his jaw slightly open with shock. The way the Brit talked, one might think he knew about his relationship with Laura. But no, he couldn't possibly. He was talking about something completely different. 

"Hey, wait up!"he shouted to Malcolm, breaking into a jog. He caught his friend just as he was turning the next corner in the corridor, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to a stop. 

"Look, you're right about trust, Mal. I was just..."he trailed off, caught in the skeptical glare in the man's eyes. He sighed. "I was catching up on some sleep. You know I haven't been sleeping well, and it finally caught up with me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but you know the Captain. He'd probably confine me to quarters." 

Malcolm smiled conspiratorially. Yes. Yes, I'm sure he would. You are alright, though?" 

Trip nodded. "Never been better." He paused, thought for a moment. "Okay, that was a lie. But I've never been better in the expanse. How's that?" 

The other man nodded. "That's good. You are still able to make dinner tonight?" 

"You bet." Trip clapped Malcolm on the back, and they continued on to the lift. 


	3. Close But No Cigar

  
  


Communications expert Ensign Hoshi Sato approached sickbay with a look of determination on her young face. Her left hand was pressed against her stomach, as if trying to hold back to the growls and groans of hunger. Although she hadn't eaten all day, and was looking forward to sitting down to dinner, she couldn't do that without her friend next to her. Hoshi had invited the doctor to dinner with her, Travis and Malcolm earlier that day, but she had failed to show up. So while Malcolm went in search of Commander Tucker, who was also invited, Hoshi returned to sickbay to fetch the Lieutenant. She opened the doors to sickbay, striding in as her wide almond eyes took quick stock of the room. Dr. Phlox was nowhere in sight, but Laura was hunched over a microscope at the far end of the room. Judging by her appearance, she had been working hard for several hours. 

"Laura, we were waiting for you,"Hoshi called, as she neared the young doctor. She looked up, and Hoshi had to bite back laughter. Her usually neat hair was standing up in some places, and her uniform was unzipped far enough to show the bright blue of Starfleet issued underwear. Laura smiled brightly, leaning back in her chair. 

"Oh, I'm really sorry about that. I completely forgot. Um, just let me finish up here, and I'll meet you." 

"It's alright, I can wait." Hoshi smiled back, and wandered over to the animal tanks Dr. Phlox kept readily at hand. Laura chewed her lip worriedly, glancing at the curtained biobed behind her. She wiped her hands roughly on her uniform, peered once more into the microscope, then stood. 

"Okay, Hoshi, I'm all done here. We can head right down to the mess hall now,"she said, joining the Ensign by the tank of mammals not unlike Earth's cats. She pressed her hand against the glass, and the small furry orange creature answered in kind, standing on the smooth surface with two tiny paws. 

"Oh, have you seen Commander Tucker? Malcolm invited him, but he didn't show up either." Hoshi followed Laura over to the door, as the Lieutenant said, "nope, but I'm sure he'll meet us there shortly." 

The doors closed behind them, and after a long moment of silence, Trip stepped out form behind the curtained area, sighing heavily in relief. This is getting way too close, he thought to himself with a slight shake of his head. He checked his chronometer, finger combed his hair, and made sure his uniform was zipped all the way. He was suddenly very thankful that he had installed that motion detector outside sickbay. Without it, he and Laura would've certainly been caught. And that would've been difficult to explain. The hardest part would be explaining it's presence if anyone ever found out. 

Trip hurried towards the doors, knowing that to wait any longer would only increase the number of questions everyone had. Besides, he was hungry, and for the first time in several weeks, actually had an appetite. 

"It's like he disappeared from the ship,"Malcolm stated as he slumped down into his chair. "I checked engineering, his quarters, the bridge. I don't know where he is." 

"Maybe he's taking a space walk,"Travis suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. Laura rolled her eyes with a laugh. The thought of Trip walking around the hull of the ship while they searched for him inside just made her want to laugh. "I'm sure he'll be here soon." 

She wasn't even done speaking before the doors to the mess hall opened up, and Trip stepped through, looking slightly out of breath. Laura smiled warmly at him, but it didn't last long. Under this lighting, Trip looked exhausted. She could see the dark bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin. He even seemed to have lost weight. She wondered sadly how she could've missed it; if maybe she actually didn't see it, or if she had seen it, and subconsciously refused to acknowledge it. If her Trip was anything, he was stubborn. She feared that he would be unable to ask for help, and his situation would get worse. 

"Hey guys,"he greeted, sitting down between Laura and Malcolm. "What's going on?" 

Malcolm shot him an incredulous look. "'What's going on?' Where have you been? I looked everywhere for you!" 

Trip shrugged nonchalantly, despite the toe he felt digging into his ankle from Laura's side. "I was doing some minor repairs on one of the observation decks. You know, boring, tedious stuff, but someone has to do it." That wasn't a complete lie, he had been doing repairs on some of the sensor equipment before joining Laura in sickbay. This time, if he was checked up on, they wouldn't find any reason to doubt him. 

"So what's the grub?"he asked, unable to control his wide grin when he felt the doctor's hand on his knee. He didn't risk a glance in her direction as he responded in kind, touching her booted foot with his own. 

"Chef made spaghetti,"Hoshi replied, completely unaware of the escapades going on under the table. When Laura slid her hand further up Trip's leg, he couldn't help but close his eyes and let out a loud moan. Upon opening his eyes, though, and finding everyone looking at him, he blushed several shades of crimson. 

"I love Chef's spaghetti,"he said, shrugging again. This time he did look at Laura, shooting her a warning glance. It didn't matter how much fun it was, they were taking too many risks. 

Lucky for them, the crewman arrived with their dinner, two men and a woman pushing a cart each that came up to their waist, filled with four shelves of spaghetti dinners. Everyone rose to get their meals, but Trip gently pushed Laura back down into her seat. "I'll get you a plate,"he said softly, hovering just above her ear. She smiled at him, and watched him wait patiently for the other crew members to get their dinners. 

"So you're getting waited on, huh?"Hoshi said with a smirk, as she sat back down with her plate. Laura shrugged. 

"I guess so. He probably just feels like being chivalrous." 

The three men returned with dinner, and eating commenced, with very little conversation in between mouthfuls. Laura kept sending glances at the man to her left, wondering if she should even try to help him. She knew from past experience that he didn't take well to the offering, but if she knew Trip half as well as she was sure she did, she already knew he wouldn't get help under his own power. 

Trip set his fork down, rubbing his face slowly. 

"You okay?"she asked, touching his arm gently. He looked over at her, smiled, and nodded. "Just a little beat. I'm fine." 

He turned back to this meal, and Laura met Malcolm's gaze from across the table, seeing and understanding the concern she saw. She decided then that she would do someone. Trip was a very well-liked person on Enterprise; there would definitely be no shortage of people to come to his aid. 


End file.
