The BLTS Archive- Crossing the Line
by MizzMarcee (MizzMarcee@yahoo.com)

---

Warning: Other (hurt/comfort)

Spoilers: Desert Crossing, Vox Sola.

Disclaimer: Copyright February 2003 by Marcee Evans (aka,
MizzMarcee). This story is an original work of amateur fiction based
on Enterprise, which is owned by TPTB (i.e., The Powers That Be,
namely Paramount, Viacom, and all its entities). The author has
absolutely no intention of infringing on the intellectual property
rights of TPTB and makes no money on this whatsoever. The author's
copyright only extends to the original material in this work.

Archive: EntSTSlash, Tim Ruben's Enterprise Fan Fiction, Subtext
Abounds, Archer's Enterprise, ASC*/ASCEML, and BLTS provided that all
header information is included. Please archive complete text only.
All others please ask first by contacting me at MizzMarcee@yahoo.com.
Thanks.

Beta: Thanks sooooo much to T'Thrill for her incomparable  work as my
beta for this story. As someone who hasn't seen "Desert  Crossing,"
her questions helped me to add the needed detail to allow  most
readers to understand the sequence of events leading to the  start of
this spackling attempt. As always, she helped me add  the 'color' to
things that I otherwise may have missed.

AN: Warning: This story contains m/m sexual  situations (although it's
A/T preslash) and hurt/comfort. If this is  not your cup of Java,
please surf elsewhere.  I'd like  to give a special thanks to Helyn
Highwater. Although I decided to  give her a break from reviewing this
loooong story (my very first  Enterprise fic), I GREATLY appreciate
her very kind offer to be a  beta reader. Her story, "A Snowcone's
Chance," was a great  inspiration to me. My heartfelt thanks to both
of you! As always, all errors, typos, and other blunders are mine and
mine  alone.

---
Outta the Frying Pan
---

Captain Jonathan Archer didn't know what else to do but keep walking.
At this point, he wasn't sure if they were even pointed in the right
direction.

He had gotten Trip across the desert this far, literally dragging him
in some cases when his friend nearly lost consciousness in the
blazing heat. But still, the shelter, which Jon kept promising Trip
they'd find, was proving to be elusive.

He knew their shuttlepod had passed over a small settlement in the
middle of the desert as they approached Zobral's home. It was here;
he knew it. It just had to be here!

However, as the morning wore on into afternoon, and as the harsh sun
continued to beat down on them, Jon had to admit to himself that he
wasn't certain anymore what he had seen. Maybe it was a mirage. Maybe
there wasn't anything out here but sand. Every dune had started to
look exactly the same as the one they had just traversed. Maybe the
heat was getting to him, too. Unfortunately, it had caught up with
his chief engineer and best friend--Charles "Trip" Tucker III--a lot
earlier.

Jon kept trudging up the next dune, pulling his companion along with
him. The younger man hadn't uttered a single word since...well, Jon
couldn't even guess how long it had been. As time wore on, his
friend's breathing had become more strained and erratic. Jon knew
they should stop. Trip needed water; they both did. But they had
drained the last of their water supplies over two hours ago--or at
least it seemed like two hours. Jon was starting to lose track of
time, as well as direction.

There was no hiding from the heat and the sun's harsh glare. Their
only hope was to find the shelter that Jon had seen from the sky. He
just hoped they hadn't walked right past it, hidden from sight on the
left or right by the rolling terrain.

Jon gasped with exertion as he tugged on Trip, urging him up the
steep embankment. The ground almost felt like quick sand beneath
their feet and it was difficult to gain proper footing in the
shifting sand.

Tucker faltered and then stumbled with a low moan. Jon tried to
compensate for the shift in their center of gravity as Trip's body
slammed into his right side and then started to drop to the ground.
However, without a firm base on which to plant his feet, the captain
felt himself being pulled down along with his friend. They ended up
in a tangled jumble of limbs.

After scrambling off of Tucker's body and getting to his feet, Jon
turned to his ill friend and urged, "Come on. We gotta keep moving."
But the younger man refused to budge, instead clamping his arms
across his chest and curling onto his side. Trip started coughing in
agonized spasms.

Archer sank back down onto the hot sand. "Easy...easy," he soothed,
placing a hand on Trip's heaving back as he waited for his friend's
breathing to level out. Positioning himself so his back was to the
sun, Jon tried to shield Trip's face and upper body from the blinding
rays.

Not for the first time that day, Archer hated himself for getting
mixed up with Zobral. When in the hell was he going to learn to be at
least a little skeptical when Enterprise answered a distress call?
They had found the alien's ship dead in space. It had turned out to
be a simple maintenance problem that could have been easily avoided
had the man just taken proper care of his engines. After Trip fixed
the tiny craft, the alien invited Archer and Tucker to his home. It
became apparent to Jon that Zobral wouldn't take 'no' for an answer,
especially after the man warned that he was easily offended.

Jon realized now that they had been set up. At the time, he didn't
think anything about accepting Zobral's word at face value. Putting
too much trust in a total stranger was about to get them killed and
it made Jon angry. The anger kept him going.

Turning back to the present, and his ill friend, Jon urged, "Come on,
buddy. It's time to get moving." After he said it, Archer was
surprised by how hoarse his voice had become. The heat was absolutely
stifling. It literally took his breath away. Even the outback of
Australia couldn't compare to this oven!

Trip shook his head, his breathing still coming in shallow pants and
punctuated every few moments by small coughs. Jon knew it wasn't wise
to stop much longer than a few minutes. They needed to find shade
before their bodies gave out on them completely, and they weren't
going to find any shade unless they kept moving.

"Trip?"

The younger man didn't answer.

"Come on, Trip. Come on," Jon coaxed, pulling on Tucker's upper  arm.
"We just need to get over this next rise, okay?"

"W...why?" Tucker gasped, "Wha...what'll we find...up top?"

"Come on," Jon urged, trying to make a game out of it. "I'll show
you."

He pulled Trip up to his feet. After hooking his companion's left arm
across his shoulders, he clasped Tucker's wrist with his left hand.
His other hand slid across the younger man's lower back.

With the grip on Tucker's wrist, Jon could measure his friend's pulse
rate. Trip's heart was beating fast--way too fast.

"One step at a time, buddy," Jon urged, "Just take one step."

Trip twisted his face into a pained expression, but he managed to
take a tentative step.

"That's right," Jon prodded. "Come on. The first one's always the
hardest."

Trip turned his head in mid-step and gave Jon a dirty look. Archer
waited for the caustic retort, but his friend turned away, bowed his
head, and remained silent as they began to slowly make their way up
the dune, step by agonizing step.

As Jon coaxed his companion forward, he recalled how he had to talk
Trip into going to Zobral's home in the first place. The younger man
claimed he had work to do, giving his captain a litany of things that
needed to be attended to aboard the ship. But that wasn't the real
reason and Jon knew it. Several years back, the two of them had been
on survival training in the Australian outback. He was well aware
that Trip hated the desert heat. "You know how it sucks the life
right outta me," Tucker reminded him in engineering. Jon had to force
himself from repeating what had become a standard joke between them
during their stay in the bush. He figured saying 'well, at least it's
a dry heat' right then wasn't a way to influence Trip to agree with
his plan.

He had stood in engineering the day before, trying to persuade his
friend to join him for dinner at Zobral's. Jon had given Trip one
last chance, warning that he'd take Malcolm Reed instead. Then Jon
made one final nudge by adding, "But I was hoping you'd enjoy
spending some time with your captain."

Of course, Trip relented. They knew each other so well after all of
these years that Jon had no doubt Trip would eventually agree to go
with him. Perhaps Trip knew it too, but was making sure Jon was aware
how big of a favor the captain was asking of him.

There was nothing that Jon wouldn't do for Trip; he knew the younger
man felt likewise. Despite the fact that the survival course in
Australia was brutal, and had tested the two officers well past their
limits, the experience forged a strong bond between them. That bond
and close friendship had served them well so far on their mission
aboard Enterprise.

Of course, if the truth were told, Jon had fallen in love with his
chief engineer a long time ago. They had developed an instant rapport
soon after Trip joined Henry Archer's staff to finish work on the
warp five engine. As Henry's only son, Jon made a point of keeping
close tabs on his father's work and the people who labored so hard to
make the elder Archer's dream a reality before--and after--his
father's untimely death. As soon as Jon and Trip met, their
friendship blossomed as though they had been close their entire
lives. It was like something that Jon hadn't even realized had been
missing--a piece of his soul--had found its way back to him. Although
Trip was younger than he was, the brilliant engineer's personality
complemented Jon's amazingly well. The captain just hadn't realized
his true feelings for the man until they were on the survival course
and had to count on each other's knowledge, skills, and sense of
humor to get through the ordeal.

From that moment on, Jon did whatever he could to keep Charles Tucker
in his life. Everything, that is, except confess his true feelings to
his best friend. Not during the survival course, and certainly not
aboard Enterprise. Once Jon was named captain of Earth's first long-
range starship, his father's warp five engine powering the ship, any
thought of a relationship became a secret, forbidden fantasy best
left to the privacy of his own cabin. Although a relationship between
them would have been embraced on Earth, the fledgling Starfleet still
had a stodginess about it, with rules dating back centuries regarding
fraternizing with one's subordinates.

Jon's focus was pulled away from the recent past by the sound of
harsh coughing. Forcing his attention back to the present, he stopped
and turned towards his friend. Fearing the ill man would topple to
the ground with this latest spell, Jon braced Tucker in his strong
arms. As they stood together in the hot sun, Archer turned just
enough so his body could shade Trip as he helped support his friend
upright. The coughing intensified.

"Easy...I got you, buddy," Jon soothed, feeling the other man's body
shake in his embrace.

Long minutes passed and the coughing spell finally ended. Once Jon
was certain that Trip's breathing had improved, the captain released
his hold. Hooking Tucker's arm across his shoulder, he said, "Come
on. We're almost to the top."

"W...we are?" Tucker wheezed, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Yeah. It's not far."

Jon took a step upwards, nearly dragging Trip with him.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached the top.
Once they had safely cleared the ledge, Jon stopped, sensing that his
friend was about to topple over if he took one more step. Allowing
Trip to pause and catch his breath, Jon scanned the horizon hopefully.

Nothing but sand lay ahead of them. Jon's heart sank. The only good
thing was that the way ahead was fairly level.

"Come on, Trip. Just a little farther," he murmured, trying to keep
the sudden despair that he was feeling from registering in his voice.
The younger man seemed oblivious to his words. Head bowed, Trip
appeared to be running on autopilot, allowing Jon to pull his
sluggish body forward again.

They trudged across the large expanse of sand. With the sun's glare,
it was nearly impossible to make out any distant features ahead. Jon
just hoped their current path led to shelter.

As they moved ever forward, Jon's thoughts returned back to their
dinner with Zobral. The visit had actually started out well enough.
Dinner was good, until they discovered the main ingredient of one of
the dishes they had just been served. "Essence of the male," Zobral
had put it. Jon tentatively ate the blood soup, but when he glanced
over at Trip, he noticed the younger man's complexion had noticeably
paled. After that, Tucker had simply picked at his food, apparently
losing his appetite with the revelation.

Zobral's attempts to keep them entertained after dinner were
appreciated--at first, anyway. In hindsight, Jon realized that the
alien had just been stalling. Zobral lured his two guests into a game
of Geskana by appealing to their competitive nature. But the man's
mood darkened after T'Pol contacted Jon from aboard Enterprise with
news that their host was considered a terrorist by the planet's
official government--the Terothans. That's when Zobral made his
pitch, explaining how he needed Jon and Enterprise to help his
freedom fighters take on the planetary forces. Again, Zobral was not
about to take 'no' for an answer.

Unfortunately, the government's military chose that particular moment
to start firing missiles at Zobral's village. Their alien host
offered Jon and Trip safe haven in his underground bunker. However,
it soon became apparent that the bunker would not protect them from
the onslaught. He and Tucker fled the compound, Trip saying that he'd
rather take his chances out in the desert rather than stick around
there any longer.

They made it to the shuttlepod, explosions going off all around them
as they scrambled inside. Zobral had warned them not to attempt to
lift off. The government's military were certain to trace the
shuttlepod's thruster emissions and shoot them down. Jon had seen the
urgency in Trip's eyes. Neither of them wanted to be caught inside
the shuttle if one of the mortar blasts struck them directly. It was
too obvious of a target. So they grabbed a couple of water pouches
and phase pistols and left their shuttlepod behind, heading into the
desert under the cover darkness. It had seemed like their only option
at the time. At least it had been cooler then.

Jon shook his head in anger. The lying, conniving bastard! Had he
only known then what Zobral was up to, they wouldn't be here in the
middle of the desert baking themselves to death! God damn him!

Archer felt the anger flare within him. Using the added adrenaline
that was coursing through his system, he propelled himself across the
plateau, Commander Tucker in tow.

As they reached the top of a small rise, Jon saw it. There! Just over
a couple of sand dunes, nestled in a small valley, was the building
that Jon had seen on their approach to Zobral's the day before. They
hadn't missed it after all!

Jon stopped. Feeling a renewed sense of confidence, he gave Trip a
slight nudge and then pointed straight ahead. He noticed that Trip's
eyes opened to mere slits as the younger man surveyed the barren land
before them. After it apparently registered in Tucker's confused mind
what they were actually seeing up ahead, the commander bent his head
backwards and took in a deep breath, as if to steel himself for what
he knew lay ahead--more walking. Trip then glanced back at Jon with a
look that the captain could only describe as one of pure exhaustion.

Jon prodded them forward, placing one foot in front of the other and
tugging Trip alongside him each step of the way. At least he knew
there was an end in sight. They had to stop a few more times when
Trip would begin coughing and couldn't catch his breath. Archer tried
to keep them moving as fast as Trip was able, but realized his own
body was starting to give way to heat exhaustion. If he faltered, he
wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to drag Trip any further. If
that happened...well, there was no point in speculating what Jon
would do in that case. There was no way he'd leave Trip out in the
desert to die, not when they were so close to their goal. Jon would
rather perish with the younger man than survive without him. The
thought of living life without Charles Tucker filled him with
absolute fear, and it drove the captain relentlessly forward.

---

After what seemed like an eternity,  they finally made it to the
entrance of  the shelter. However, there was little  cause for
celebration. Jon's optimism dropped after they entered the building
and he had a  chance to look around. Their refuge was nothing  more
than a partially bombed out set of ruins.  However, Jon knew that
under the circumstances  he couldn't be choosy. Trip had become so
weak  that Jon had to help him over to a post in the  middle of the
large room and then lower him down  into a sitting position.

Jon propped his companion's back against the post. He knew he
couldn't lay Trip down flat. If he allowed his friend to fall asleep,
he suspected that coma and death could follow. Trip's breathing had
become more and more anguished as they drew closer to the shelter.
The younger man's lungs were congested and his coughing spells were
becoming more frequent and intense. His pulse was rapid and weak. His
skin was feverish and dry. Trip drifted in and out, clarity and good
humor seemed clouded by snatches of confusion and hallucinations.
Even from the minimal first-aid training he had received in the
Academy, Jon knew these were all classic signs of heat stroke.

"Home sweet home," Tucker murmured between heavy panting, seemingly
grateful for the simple pleasure of sitting down in the shade.

As the first order of business, Jon's gaze swept the perimeter of
what was left of the building. Seeing a basin in the far corner of
the shelter, he held his breath as he stood to check it out. He hated
to leave Trip, but he knew it was important to take stock of what may
have been left behind in haste by the previous occupants of their
sanctuary. Maybe, just maybe there was water in the jugs set against
the basin stand?

As he got closer to that corner of the shelter, he noticed a shimmer
of liquid in the basin. No, it couldn't be! It wasn't possible that
there'd be water in the basin, not in this heat. But there it was.
Perhaps this part of the valley had received some rain recently. He
recalled seeing some dark clouds off in the distance earlier in the
day, although he didn't notice any evidence of precipitation on their
journey. Looking up, Jon noticed the gaping slats in the ceiling
overhead. This explained why any water that had fallen had collected
in the basin. Luckily, the shower had been recent enough that the
water had not had time to evaporate. It was like finding manna from
heaven.

Jon's hand trembled slightly as he grasped the metal ladle that was
hooked to the stand and dipped it into the liquid.

The captain heard a plaintive groan from behind him. "I hope...you're
not plannin' ta hog...that for yourself."

Jon took a whiff of the murky liquid and winced. Apparently some
residue had been left inside the basin and it had dissolved in the
rainwater. The result was a foul-smelling broth of unknown origin.
Standing and turning towards his ill friend, he answered, "Water's
off the menu."

He heard Trip let out a gasp of resignation. Returning to his
companion's side, he sat down and leaned back against the post in
exhaustion.

Trip turned to his left. In a halting voice, he quipped, "Now
this...is my idea...of a great time."

Jon glanced back at his friend, guilt and fear roiling inside of him
with the words. He had promised his friend a good time. Zobral
promised to roll out the red carpet for them. And this is what Trip
got for being loyal to his captain--a case of heat stroke, no water,
and a dimming hope of rescue. Jon closed his eyes and leaned his head
back against the pillar that he shared with Trip.

He could feel his friend's presence next to him, their heads nearly
touching as they rested back against the post. The desperation of
their situation hit Jon all at once and a knot of guilt twisted in
his chest. He had let down his best friend. He had failed to keep
Trip safe. He had messed up big time, pushing Trip beyond his limits,
wearing the engineer down to the point where the man could hardly
think coherently. Despite the fact they had finally found shelter,
Jon could still lose Trip. Lose him forever. And it was entirely his
fault.

No! Jon wasn't about to let that happen. He couldn't just sit here
and let Trip fade away into oblivion, not if he had anything to do
about it.

Steeling his resolve, and fighting against his own severe case of
fatigue and dehydration, Jon levered himself back up to his feet.
After returning to where the basin stood, he opened the clay jugs
that sat propped against the stand. To his great dismay, each jug was
severely cracked and bone-dry. He scoured the rest of the building,
but there was nothing but a few pieces of wood and broken pottery.
Whenever this building had been attacked, there had apparently been
ample time for someone to pick it clean of its contents. There were
corners that felt somewhat damp, but whatever rainwater had collected
there had settled into the dust and sand that covered the floor, or
evaporated. There was no food and no water--nothing but the foul
liquid in the basin.

He returned to the corner that contained the basin and pondered what
to do. The shimmer of the water drew him in. Think! He had to think.
Could he make the water drinkable? If he could boil away the worst of
the contaminants from the tainted water, maybe it would keep Trip
alive long enough until Enterprise located them. God willing, Dr.
Phlox would be able to counteract whatever reaction resulted by Trip
consuming any remaining impurities that Jon was unable to boil away.
At least it would buy them a little more time.

He looked over at Tucker. The young man seemed to be asleep. Jon
rushed over to his friend and knelt beside him.

"Trip?"

Giving him a gentle nudge on the shoulder, he called again, "Trip?
Come on, buddy. Stay awake for me."

The engineer awoke with a shudder. Jon gripped his friend by the
upper arms to steady him.

"Trip? You back with me?"

"H...huh?"

"Don't fall asleep on me, okay? You have to stay awake. Do you
understand?"

"Tired...," the blond man murmured, rolling his head groggily to his
right to face Jon directly.

"I know you are. But I can't let you fall asleep just yet. I need you
to hang on a little longer. Understand?"

"Mmmmmmm...," Trip moaned softly, closing his eyes.

Jon shook the younger man sharply by the upper arms. "Trip! Wake up!
Open your eyes."

Tucker's eyelids fluttered and then opened into narrow  slits.
"Mmmmmmm! W...what?"

"Look at me, Trip. Open your eyes fully," Jon commanded, getting into
his friend's face. He hated to be so tough on the ill man, but he was
deathly worried by the response he was getting from the engineer.

After a long moment, Tucker finally managed to open his eyes a little
wider.

"Trip? Look at me. Focus on my face," Jon prodded.

Trip's eyes rolled upwards and Jon froze; a wave of fear rushed
through him that his friend was about to pass out. Then, little by
little, the man's striking blue eyes rolled back down. Trip squinted
with the effort, but he eventually managed to focus on Archer's face.

"C...Cap'n?"

"Yeah, right here," Jon replied, unable to hide the relief in his
voice as he squeezed Trip's shoulder. "Listen. You have to stay
awake, okay?"

"Mmmmmm...'kay," Trip answered in a faraway voice.

"I mean it, Trip," Jon stated, forcing his hoarse voice to sound
commanding, "If I catch you falling asleep on me, I'll bust your butt
down to ship's steward. Got that? You'll be cleaning pots and pans
instead of warp coils. Do you understand me?"

Trip gazed at him in bewilderment, as though he was trying to
comprehend Jon's words but the meaning simply escaped him. Archer
suddenly felt a pang of guilt gnaw in his gut. He was the one who had
talked his friend into coming here in the first place, and now he was
threatening to demote him?

Jon shook his head and looked into Trip's feverish eyes. He wanted so
much for his friend to comprehend what he was asking of him. They
were running out of time. Jon knew it was important that he make Trip
understand. Perhaps if he gave him a puzzle to solve. Maybe that
would keep the younger man's mind occupied enough to keep him awake.
Jon was willing to try anything at this point.

In a contrite voice, he stated, "I'm sorry, Trip. I don't want to
order you around, but this is really important. I need you to help me
on this."

"H...help ya? How?"

Jon quickly latched onto an idea. He'd have to somehow figure out a
way to build a fire to boil away the contaminants in the water left
in the basin. Perhaps Trip could help him figure it out.

"Do you know what the highest temperature setting is on a phase
pistol set to stun?"

"W...what?"

"The temperature setting on stun."

"Mal...Malcolm'd know," Trip offered, closing his eyes.

Jon smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure he'd know, but he's not here right now.
Do you know what the setting is? Is it enough to start a fire?"

"D'nno," Trip replied. "Maybe..."

"Good," Jon said, placing his hand lightly on Trip's shoulder and
giving it a squeeze. "I have an idea. Now, why don't you keep
thinking about that temperature setting? I'll need it in a little
while, okay?"

"...'Kay. Anythin'...ya say, Cap'n."

Jon set to the task of building a fire. He gathered the small amount
of firewood that was strewn about the building and stacked it in the
semi-circle of hewn rock next to Trip. He pulled a few more stones
into place to complete a circle to contain the fire, stacking them
level with the other rocks to act as a stand for the basin.

Once his construction job was complete, he looked over to his
companion. Trip appeared to be nodding off.

"Trip? Do you have that temperature setting for me yet?"

"H...huh?"

"The temperature setting at stun."

"I...I d'nno, Cap'n. I...I can't think. I can't...," Trip groaned,
his raspy voice sounding full of regret.

Jon rushed to his friend's side. The last thing he wanted to do was
to make Trip feel like he had failed. It was just a game to help keep
Tucker awake, but the engineer wasn't aware of that.

Placing a hand on Trip's upper arm, he answered, "Hey, it's okay. I
think I figured it out. But thanks for trying."

"I...I let ya down, Cap'n," the younger man wheezed. "S...sorry."

"Hey...hey, listen," Jon replied, cupping the side of his friend's
face gently in the palm of his hand. "You've done great so far, Trip.
Don't ever think you've let me down. You never have. Remember that.
You've always been there for me. Always."

The two men gazed at each other for a long moment and Jon felt a
connection pass between them. It was tenuous, but he had reached
Trip, he was sure of it.

Running his hand from the young man's face to cup the back of
Tucker's neck, Jon added, "We've been through a lot together, the two
of us, haven't we, Trip?"

Jon noticed a slight smile cross Tucker's dry lips.

"Y...yeah. W...we have, Cap'n."

Jon locked his gaze with Trip's feverish blue eyes. "Yeah...and I
don't intend to lose you. So you need to stay awake. Do you
understand?"

"Yeah, but...so tired," Trip rasped softly, closing his eyes.

Jon shook him by the shoulders, causing the younger man's eyes to
snap open again.

"No buts, Trip," Jon said furiously. "I know you're tired but if you
fall asleep, you may lapse into unconsciousness and I may not be able
to wake you up. I don't have any intention of returning to Enterprise
without you. Do you hear me?"

"H...hear ya." Trip gasped as his eyes flickered upwards.

"Look at me," Jon commanded, once again getting into Trip's face
until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the engineer.

With great effort, Trip's gaze slowly wandered back to Jon's face.

"Good. Now, I'm going to build us a fire. Stay awake for me, Trip.
Can you do that for me?"

The younger man let out a soft groan, and his eyelids flickered again
as if the sheer effort of keeping them open were about to be too much
for him. But he finally gazed back directly into Jon's eyes, making a
connection, and replied, "Yeah...I'll stay 'wake...for ya, Jon."

Archer smiled back at his best friend. It had been a long time since
Trip had called him by his given name. Aboard Enterprise, they were
Cap'n and Trip--or Captain Archer and Commander Tucker if the
situation warranted. For some reason, having Tucker call him 'Jon'
stirred up all of the strong emotions that he was trying to keep
suppressed at the moment so he could focus on keeping them alive.

Archer bent forward and pressed his forehead against Trip's feverish
brow. Jon stroked the back of his friend's neck as he tried to hold
back the fear that was settling within his chest. "I'm sorry, Trip.
I'm so sorry that this has turned out to be such a nightmare."

Trip let out a small laugh. "Told ya...," the other man began, his
breathing coming in short hitches until eventually it turned into a
series of deep coughs.

"Easy...easy," Jon murmured, pulling Trip into his arms and
supporting the young man. Archer held him close, feeling Tucker's
body quake from the force of the coughs. He rubbed his hands gently
up and down the engineer's back, wishing there were a way to soothe
away the muscle spasms.

Ever so slowly, the coughing fit subsided and Trip regained his
breath. Jon helped his friend lean back against the pillar once more.

"Th...thanks...Cap'n," Tucker wheezed in a voice that was barely
louder than a whisper.

Jon squeezed the other man's shoulder affectionately, allowing some
of his emotion to flow through openly. "Don't thank me until we're
out of here. Just stay awake for me, you hear?"

Trip nodded his head as he closed his eyes.

Jon knelt there for a moment, watching his friend nearly nod off and
then shake himself awake again by sheer willpower. Jon didn't know
how he'd ever forgive himself for putting Trip through this, or how
he'd ever make it up to his companion.

---

He gave Trip's shoulder one final squeeze and then stood up. Focusing
on the task at hand, Archer moved back to the fire pit, pointed his
phase pistol towards the middle of the woodpile, and pulled the
trigger. Chunks of wood splintered off, but he kept firing until one
of the pieces started to glow red with the heat.

Bending down, he placed the smaller wood chips next to the glowing
embers to spur the fire on. He stood up and fired again,
concentrating on another portion of the woodpile until that, too,
glowed red from the heat.

He couldn't help but worry about his friend. Jon kept glancing toward
him, and each time he felt a cold stab of fear grip him, afraid that
this would be the time he'd find Tucker slipping away into
unconsciousness. But to the other man's credit, Trip seemed to be
holding his own for the moment. Maybe they would get through this.
Maybe he'd get Trip to Enterprise in time.

Archer turned back to the woodpile, focusing a sustained blast with
his phase pistol. Finally, a thin flame started to reach up from
within the stacked pieces of wood. The captain nursed the glowing
embers, firing his phase pistol a few more times until the single
flame had built into a good-sized fire.

Once he judged the fire was nearly hot enough, Jon placed the basin
on the rack that he had assembled for it. He alternated his attention
between Trip and the water that was key to his friend's survival. He
knew he couldn't afford to let the precious liquid boil away too
much. Trip needed as much water as he could get. However, there was
nothing to use for testing so Jon allowed the water to boil just long
enough to where he hoped it would kill anything that could possibly
be harmful.

Finally, Jon judged the water had boiled long enough. He pulled the
basin off of the direct flame and allowed it to cool. Through it all,
Tucker sat silently propped up against the post as his eyes flickered
open and closed, seemingly fighting with all of his might to stay
conscious. As Jon waited impatiently for the water to cool enough for
Trip to drink, he called over to his friend and told him what he was
doing. If anything, it made Jon feel connected to Trip, letting the
younger man hear his voice and know he was still there.

Archer took a tentative sniff of the water in the basin. The water
still smelled horrible. He knew getting Trip to drink it would be one
of his biggest challenges yet that day. Once the water had cooled
enough, Jon used the dipper to pour the liquid into one of the water
pouches.

"What'dya do? Rub...two sticks together?"

Jon looked up, noticing that his friend's eyes had opened partway and
he was gazing down in astonishment at the fire. Archer was surprised
by Trip's question. He had been giving Tucker a step-by-step
description of what he was doing. Apparently, the younger man had
faded out during his monologue.

"I found a new use for the stun setting," Jon reminded his friend as
he finished pouring the last of the water into the water pouch. He
set the dipper down and crawled over to Trip's side. "It may not
taste too good, but I think I've boiled away anything that could hurt
us."

He offered the water pouch up to Trip.

The younger man shook his head weakly as he panted, "No thanks...I'm
not thirsty."

Jon kept his frustration in check as he replied, "Let's not get into
that argument again."

Trip gazed up into his face, seemingly relenting. He bent his head
forward and Jon positioned the water pouch next to his lips. Tucker
reached up with his left hand and took a small sip from the pouch.
With a sudden grimace, Trip pulled away. Turning his head, the ill
man spat out the water with a loud gasp.

"Worse than blood soup."

"You need water!" Jon said forcefully, not even attempting to keep
the exasperation from his voice this time.

Trip panted heavily as he leaned back against the pillar. "What I
need...is sleep."

Jon watched Trip close his eyes and felt a wave of fear nearly
overwhelm him. He couldn't allow his friend to give up. Not now, not
after what they had been through to get this far.

"You have a fever, Trip. Your heart's racing. You've got all of the
symptoms of heat stroke. If you fall asleep, you can lapse into a
coma."

Trip continued to gasp for breath. Eyes still closed, he finally
rasped, "Coma. ...That sounds nice."

"When we get to Enterprise, you can sleep all you want. But right
now, you gotta stay with me and drink this water." He paused, raising
the water pouch up to Trip's face, and then added, "If I had a needle
I'd give it to you intravenously, but I don't."

Jon knew what he just proposed made no medical sense whatsoever. He
knew well enough that injecting the water into Trip's vein would be
downright dangerous. But he was grasping at straws. He would have
done anything for an alternate way to get vital fluids into Trip
without forcing him to drink the foul water. But there was no other
choice. Trip had to understand. He had no other choice.

Trip's eyes opened slightly, but when Jon gazed into the feverish
blue eyes, he could tell Trip was barely able to focus on his face.
His friend was slipping away into unconsciousness before his very
eyes. He knew he had to jar the younger man awake or he'd lose him
right then and there.

Grabbing the engineer by the upper arm, he ordered, "Come on, sit
up." He helped pull Trip upright and then supported the shaky body
with one hand as he raised the water pouch up again to the other
man's lips. "There you go."

Trip took a tentative sip and then stopped with a frown. He looked up
groggily into Jon's face, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and
disgust.

Archer nodded his head, silently coaxing him into taking another
drink.

Trip relented, dipping his head and allowing Jon to help him. The ill
man grimaced at the taste, but he took a few more gulps before
pulling away and coughing.

Satisfied that he was able to get at least a little bit of vital
fluid into Trip's dehydrated body, Jon pulled the water pouch away
and helped the other man lean back against the pillar.

Sitting back, Jon watched as Trip closed his eyes and started to lean
heavily to his left. The younger man seemed to be dozing off.

"Commander," Jon called out, gently punching Trip on the upper arm to
nudge him awake.

His friend gazed at him, a confused expression on his face, and then
murmured, "Hi, Cap'n."

'Keep him awake!' Jon's inner voice screamed at him, recalling one of
the lessons they had learned during survival training. An idea popped
into his mind.

"The warp reactor. Break it down for me."

Trip stared back at him, as if it took a few moments for his mind to
process his captain's request before failing. Finally, Tucker  asked,
"W...what?"

"What are the eight major components."

Trip rested his head back against the pillar. Closing his eyes, he
turned his head to the left. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me."

"Name them," Jon commanded, "That's an order."

Trip turned his head back to Jon. It took a few moments for the
younger man to respond and Archer feared that Trip was about to fade
out again. Eyes still closed, the engineer began, "Well, there's the
drumsticks...thighs...wings." Trip hesitated and then added in an
almost childlike voice, "Ya have anythin' ta eat around here?"

"Not at the moment," Jon said, getting back up into a crouching
position next to Trip. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Jon
would have laughed. Leave it to Charles Tucker to think about his
stomach, even as he was fading into oblivion.

"...But when we get back to Enterprise," he continued, "I'll have
Chef make you a dinner you'll never forget. What would you like?
Anything."

Trip turned his head. Without opening his eyes, he replied  adamantly,
"Not snake meat!"

Jon had to smile. It was the one condition that Trip had made before
agreeing to go with him to Zobral's for dinner.

"No...Chef doesn't do snake very well," he said with a slight
chuckle. "Tell me what you want."

Trip hesitated, as though he was thinking it over. Then, in a faraway
voice, he answered, "Prime rib."

"Okay. What else?"

"M...mashed potatoes...with mushroom gravy," Tucker replied, his eyes
still closed. "The kind he makes...Wednesday nights."

"No problem. What kind of vegetables?"

Jon watched as Trip seemed to fade out all of a sudden. He reached up
and jabbed Tucker's upper arm. "Hey...vegetables!"

The ill man let out a small gasp, as if he was suddenly jarred out of
a deep slumber. He panted for a long moment, and then blurted  out,
"Broccoli..."

Feeling the exhaustion starting to catch up with him, Jon lowered
himself down into a sitting position across from Trip. "Dessert?"

Trip hesitated. Finally, the younger man replied, "Pecan pie."

After that, Jon moved the subject of discussion to a number of other
topics. He knew he had to keep Trip's mind focused on something other
than his body's exhaustion.

They talked about sports, although Trip was apparently having trouble
remembering what Jon had taught him about the finer points of water
polo just a few weeks earlier. So Jon moved their conversation to the
subject of football.

Occasionally, Jon would get up and make Trip drink a little more of
the water. The young man had given up complaining about the taste,
although Jon still winced in sympathy as the ill man's face would
twist into a grimace whenever cajoled to drink it down.

Dammit! Where the hell were T'Pol and Malcolm? Enterprise *must* be
looking for them! What was keeping them? The water had revived Trip
at first, but Jon could read the ominous signs creeping up again. His
friend was beginning to fade in and out for longer periods of time.
If they didn't come soon...!

Jon shook his head, not wanting to think of the alternatives. He sat
back, willing himself not to give up hope. Keeping a close eye on his
best friend, he called out, "So...who was your first true love? Tell
me, Trip."

The other man shook his head slowly, as if to remove the cobwebs
tangling within his mind.

"Wh...what?"

"You know. Who did you go with on your first date? Who was your first
kiss?"

Trip took in a deep breath and then let it out in short huffs as he
tried to regain his bearings.

"Y...ya don't wanna hear 'bout that...do ya, Cap'n?"

"Humor me, Trip."

"Well...her name was B...Becca. Her family lived...just down th' road
fr'm us," Trip rambled, his voice in a low monotone as though he were
half-asleep.

"What did she look like? What was the color of her hair?" Jon
quizzed. He knew most of the stories about Trip's rocky love life--
the romances that went unrequited, or that got away, or that flamed
and then ended badly. Like himself, Trip didn't have a good track
record when it came to love. Jon had watched Trip's heart be broken
time and time again during the nearly nine years they had known each
other. Not that Jon could ever confess his own feelings to the young
engineer. God, but how he wanted to, especially now when Trip seemed
to be slipping away before his very eyes.

The sandy-haired man rested his head back against the post. His
eyelids were open slightly, but the striking blue eyes flickered
upwards in their sockets. It was obvious Tucker was barely conscious
and rapidly growing weaker.

"Trip?" Jon called out. From his reclining position, he leaned
forward with his hand to nudge his friend on the foot.

"H...huh?"

"Becca...what did she look like?"

"Ah, Cap'n...I told ya...all 'bout her...b'fore," Trip slurred,
turning his head to the left. "An' it's not like...I wanna remember
her...running off with Clayt'n Morris. If ya know what I mean?"

Suddenly, Tucker's breathing became more pronounced. He started to
cough, which progressed into a convulsive fit.

"Trip?" Jon gasped, alarm growing within him as he sprang to his
knees. Placing his hands on his companion's upper arms, he gently
pulled Trip upright. After a number of minutes, the coughing spell
finally ended, but Jon didn't let go. He could feel the feverish body
under his hands trembling, even through the fabric of Tucker's shirt.

The engineer clumsily ran his hand across his abdomen, clutching at
his left side with a low groan.

"Trip? Are you in pain? Tell me."

Seeming to ignore Jon's question, the other man murmured, "D...did ya
find...any blankets?"

"What?"

"I...I'm...freezin', Cap'n." Trip started curling himself towards his
left, his arm resting protectively against his side. It was then that
Jon recalled Trip complaining about the game at Zobral's, how he must
have bruised a 'half dozen ribs' in the process. What if he had done
more than bruise them? What if there were internal injuries?

Again, a flash of guilt coursed through Jon's gut. Why didn't they
grab the medikit from the shuttlepod before escaping into the desert?

"Sorry, Trip. I didn't find any blankets," he confessed sadly.

"C...can ya move me...closer to th' fire? I need...ta warm up," Trip
asked weakly, nodding his head towards the firepit behind Jon.

"I can't do that. You still have a fever, Trip. It'll raise your
temperature too high."

"I...I'm freezin', Jon," Trip groaned, his body shuddering  harshly,
"Pl...please, Jonny. Cold...s' cold."

Jon rubbed his hands along Trip's upper arms, generating a tiny bit
of friction in the process. "How about that? Does that help?"

Trip nodded his head jerkily. "Yeah, a...little. Still...so cold."

Jon ran his hands across the young man's muscular back. He had often
wanted to hug this man and hold him close. But, dammit, not like
this! He sure didn't want it to be under circumstances such as these!
He pulled his friend close, resting Trip's forehead against his chest
as he ran his hands up and down the other man's shivering body.

"Hmmmmm...th...that's nice. Really nice, Jonny," Trip wheezed. He
burrowed his head into Jon's chest.

Archer continued to move his hands over his friend's body, helping to
get the circulation going in the extremities by rubbing over Trip's
arms and the tops of his thighs. He ended up cradling Tucker close as
he ran his fingertips through the man's tousled hair.

The body encircled in his embrace seemed to have relaxed during his
ministrations. Jon hoped Trip had found what little comfort he could
offer under the circumstances. He hoped it would be enough, for now.

---

"Trip? You still with me?"

The head moved slightly, but remained cuddled against Jon's  chest.
"Wha...?"

"Good. Remember, you gotta stay with me, buddy. You can't fall
asleep."

"Don't...wanna move."

Jon grinned. If the truth were told, he didn't want to move either.
He looked down at the one he loved, albeit secretly, and a warm
feeling of affection filled him. "It's all right. I'll help keep you
warm, okay?"

"Mmmmm...'kay."

Jon held the engineer protectively in his arms. He noticed as time
wore on that his legs were slowly going numb. But he knew that was
the least of their problems.

Running his fingertips lightly down the back of Trip's sunburned
neck, Jon slid his hand under his friend's collar. Making contact
with Tucker's bare back, he tried to gauge the younger man's body
temperature. Despite the cooling air around them, as afternoon had
apparently turned to night outside of their refuge, the engineer's
fever seemed to be raging even higher.

"Trip?"

There was no answer.

"Trip?" he called more urgently, shaking the body gently.

"W...what?"

"Don't go to sleep on me," Jon ordered sternly, "You have to wake up!"

"Pl...please, darlin'," Trip gasped. "Please...let m' sleep. Jus' a
li'l...while longer?"

"Who you calling darlin'?" Jon teased with a small laugh. He pulled
away slightly so he could look into his friend's sunburned  face.
"Trip?"

"Oh, darlin'," the younger man gasped, leaning forward as if to make
connection again with Jon's chest. "D...don't leave me. Not
yet...please."

Jon pulled his friend close, resting the blond head back on his
shoulder. "I've got you, buddy."

"D...don't leave me. Please, Jonny...don't leave! Don't leave
me...darlin'," Trip pleaded, his words nearly incomprehensible as he
nuzzled against Jon.

"It's okay," Jon whispered, the other man's words sinking in. Could
it be possible that Tucker loved him, too? A sudden pang of emotion
welled up inside of him as he choked, "I'm here, Trip. I'm not going
anywhere."

"Y...ya would? Ya'd stay...with me?"

"Of course, Trip. I would never leave your side. Never."

The younger man's body relaxed in his embrace. For a moment, Jon
feared that Tucker had faded out again. However, he felt the blond
head slowly tilt up. He looked into Trip's upturned face, but it was
obvious his friend's eyes were unfocused.

"N...never? Ya...mean that, Jonny?"

Jon couldn't help but allow a feeling of tenderness to spill into his
voice as he replied, "I meant every word, Trip. You're an important
part of my life. You have been for a long time now."

"Mmmmm. Like th' sound...of that, Jonny," Tucker murmured softly. He
lowered his head again, snuggling into the captain's shoulder. "An'
you're...important ta me, too. Wish...I would'a told ya...lot
sooner...ya know?"

Jon hugged the muscular form in his embrace. "Yeah, I know. Me, too."
The captain cupped the back of Trip's neck in the palm of his hand
and brushed his lips through the dusty blond hair of his best friend.

He heard Tucker let out a slow sigh. Jon felt the younger man's
weight lean more heavily against him.

"Trip?"

There was no answer.

"Commander?" Jon called, his hoarse voice more insistent, an order
now.

Still, there was no answer.

Nearly panicking, Jon shook the other man. "Trip? Wake up! Stay with
me, buddy! Please, stay with me!"

His companion began to cough. Jon sat him upright, trying to make it
easier for Trip to breathe. The coughing intensified, leaving the
other man gasping.

Jon supported his friend upright until Trip's breathing finally
leveled off. He reached for the water pouch and made Trip drink a few
more sips.

After gently propping Tucker back against the post, Jon pondered what
to do next. As much as he wanted to hold Trip and comfort him, doing
so was killing the younger man. He couldn't allow Trip to get too
comfortable. He needed to find some way to keep him awake.

The captain knew Trip was a competitive man. Like Jon, the engineer
was always game for some sporting event or activity. Perhaps he could
call on that competitiveness to keep Trip focused. Of course,
physical activity was out of the question. But if he could engage
Trip's mind again on some problem, it could help a lot in keeping the
younger man awake.

A game that he recalled from childhood sprang into Jon's mind. It was
the same game his father taught him once when they were on a long
road trip and young Jon had become bored.

"Geography? Do you know how to play?"

"G...geography?" Trip repeated, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"You know. You say 'Amazon River'--which ends in an 'R'--and then I
say 'Rhode Island.'"

"W...we're goin'...ta Rhode Island?" Trip asked, the confusion
evident in his voice.

"No...no, it's a game," Jon explained, his heart sinking as it became
apparent once again how disoriented his friend had become. He almost
didn't want to pursue it, thinking that perhaps Trip's mental
concentration had deteriorated to such a level that the ill man would
be unable to fathom the game's simple concepts. However, it was the
best idea he had at the moment, so Jon pressed forward. "You're
supposed to tell me some place that starts with a 'D'."

"Oh...'D'," Trip gasped, his eyes flickering slightly under closed
eyelids. He panted, his breathing coming in short gasps. There was a
long pause, and then Trip replied, "Ah...Draylax."

"'X'...? 'X'?" Jon replied, the surprise evident in his voice.

"There's always...," Trip murmured helpfully.

"No, no...don't tell me!" Jon was a competitive man, too. Leave it to
Trip to surprise him with a stumper despite his ailing health. "I
know an 'X'." He chuckled, then offered, "Xanadu."

Trip laughed weakly and then shot back, "That's not a real place."

Jon shook his head with a chuckle, enjoying the simple pleasure of
hearing the teasing in Trip's voice. "It doesn't matter..."

"Ah...of course it matters," Trip countered.

"You just used an alien planet--Draylax...," Jon began, but his
response was cut off by another of Trip's coughing spells.

In an instant, Jon was in a crouching position right next to  Tucker.
"Easy...easy," he soothed over and over as he waited for the  coughing
to subside. He then helped his ill friend take a drink of  water.

A far-off explosion sounded and Jon lifted his head. In a matter of
seconds, a fireball exploded just a short distance from their
shelter. The entire room was illuminated in red and the ground shook
beneath them as dust and sand rained down on top of them.

Trip reacted in confusion, turning his head from side to side in
bewilderment as he said in a shaky voice, "All right. Whatever you
say. Xanadu's fine!"

Jon squeezed Trip's right shoulder, wishing he could stay with his
disoriented friend but knowing he had to investigate what was
happening outside their refuge. He rushed to a window.

What the captain saw made his entire body go numb with fear. Another
far-off explosion erupted and he watched as a projectile of some sort
arched its way straight towards them. There wasn't time to do
anything but find cover.

"Get your head down!" he shouted to his companion.

"What...?"

Jon rushed to Trip. Fearing he would be too late, the captain
shouted, "Get down!" He reached his friend's side just as the roar of
the missile reached a deafening pitch. Dropping to the floor, he
grabbed Tucker by the shoulders and pulled the man into his arms.
After tucking the blond head to his chest, Jon curled protectively
over Trip's prone body.

The missile exploded, seemingly right on top of them. Jon was certain
they were about to be killed. Brick and mortar rained down all around
them. He felt the heat of the fireball lick against his back and
neck. Jon gagged against the dust and super-heated air that filled
their disintegrating shelter.

The assault seemed to subside and Jon realized with amazement that he
was still alive. But he knew there wasn't time to rejoice in that
tiny stroke of luck. They were sitting ducks! They couldn't stay here
any longer.

He sat Trip up, steadying the younger man as his companion coughed
miserably in the dust-filled air.

"We gotta get out of here," Jon cried out, getting to his feet. "Come
on...!" He pulled Trip up into a standing position. He could feel the
other man's unsteadiness. He knew he would have to get them both out
of there. Trip was in no condition to escape on his own.

They barely got out of the building and over a ridge just to the west
when another missile rained down on their former refuge. This time,
it was a direct hit. The explosion completely destroyed the ruins,
throwing Jon and Tucker off their feet with the resulting shockwave.

There was only time enough to glance back. It wasn't safe here. They
had to get away.

Jon pulled Trip up again.

He heard a pair of far-off explosions and figured another barrage was
coming for them. He tried to quicken their pace, to put as much
distance between them and their former shelter, but Trip was really
struggling at this point to even stay on his feet, let alone stumble
alongside him.

They didn't make it very far before Jon heard a ship approaching. A
bright light pierced the dark sky, scouring the desert floor for them.

'So, they've come to finish the job, have they?' Jon thought. He
dragged Trip along, the younger man's steps sluggish, his body
sagging heavily against Jon for support.

Archer twisted to look back when the light neared their location.
They must have been spotted on sensors. There was no hiding from them
now.

Trip apparently realized it as well. He was holding onto his left
side now, his breaths coming in labored gasps. "I'm just...slowin' ya
down. Go...!"

Jon was having none of that! He wasn't going to leave the man he
loved out here alone in the desert, about to be captured and killed,
while he hightailed it out of there to safety. No way!

The light caught up with them. They had run out of time. "I don't
remember taking orders from you!" he shouted to Trip. He shoved his
friend to the ground and then crouched over him. Raising his phase
pistol, Jon squinted into the blinding light as he aimed his weapon
towards the lowering ship. He wasn't about to let them kill them--
kill Trip--without a fight.

It wasn't until the ship was nearly on the ground close to their
location that he recognized it was a shuttlepod. Saying a silent
prayer of thanks, he holstered his weapon and reached down to help
Trip up to his feet. The engineer was nearly unconscious. Jon dragged
his friend towards the opening hatch. Seeing T'Pol's face inside, the
captain let out a sigh of relief. Safety was just a few steps away.

T'Pol helped pull Tucker into the pod and away from the hatch. When
it was Jon's turn, he was surprised when it was Zobral's outstretched
hand that offered to pull him to safety. For a split second, Jon's
anger warred with reason. This was the man who had lured him and Trip
down to the surface and lied to them about his motives. And then he
abandoned them in an underground hiding place in his house while
their planet's government forces started to attack the village. This
man had nearly gotten them both killed. He wasn't sure if he'd ever
forgive Zobral for what Trip had just endured in the desert.

But then, he still needed to get into the shuttle. Considering the
alternative, Jon grasped Zobral's offered hand and allowed the other
man to help him inside. After sealing the hatch, he nodded to Malcolm
to take off. Collapsing to the floor of the pod, he rested his back
against the bulkhead and turned towards the alien. Zobral handed Jon
a water pouch. He raised it to his lips and drank greedily. When he
was finished, he looked over to the rebel leader and nodded his
thanks.

Jon tipped the water pouch up again and closed his eyes, luxuriating
in the taste and feel of the clean, pure water as it slid down his
throat. He didn't want to move from this spot any time soon. For a
moment, he enjoyed the simple pleasures of the cool water, the
comfortable temperature of the shuttlepod, and the knowledge that
they were on their way back to his ship--Enterprise.

---

After only a moment's relaxation, however, Jon's thoughts flowed
elsewhere--to that of his best friend. He knew Trip was in good hands
medically. However, despite the fact that T'Pol had as much, if not
more, first aid training as he did, Jon promised Trip he would never
leave the younger man's side. He didn't plan to break that promise
any time soon.

As he pulled himself back up onto his feet, Jon heard a commotion to
his left where T'Pol was caring for Trip.

"N...no!" Trip's voice cried out in a muffled groan.

"Commander, calm yourself," T'Pol advised. "We are taking you to the
ship. Do you understand?"

"NO! Git...git off me! Git...OFF me!"

Jon rushed as fast as his weary legs could take him to Trip's side.
He noticed that T'Pol had removed the engineer's shirt, presumably in
an attempt to cool him. His friend seemed to be struggling for
breath, his wheezing respiration punctuated by sharp coughs.

"Trip...?"

"You must relax, Commander," the Vulcan stated firmly, her hands
pressing down on Tucker's shoulders.

The younger man started to buck against T'Pol's restraining hands.

"Trip?" Jon called out and knelt on one knee on the bench that held
the engineer's thrashing body. He turned towards T'Pol. "Let him go."

One eyebrow rose at the order, but T'Pol obliged immediately.

If Tucker realized the restraining hands had left his body, he didn't
give any indication. He continued to struggle against a seemingly
invisible adversary, clawing at his bare chest, his fingernails
leaving angry scratch marks in his flesh.

"Git off! ...Git 'em off me!"

"Trip? It's Jon," the captain soothed. "What's wrong? Tell me!"

"Th'...the fire ants! Git 'em off me!" Trip shouted in terror.

"Fire ants?" Jon repeated, trying to grasp Trip's hands as the
younger man tried reaching up to claw at his own face.

"NO!" Trip gasped, writhing on the bench. He started to cough.
Suddenly all concerns of fire ants were gone as he struggled to
breathe between hacking coughs.

"It is obvious, Captain, that the commander is irrational," T'Pol
opined, "I advise restraining him before he injures himself further."

"No, I won't put him in restraints," was Jon's firm answer. He
grasped Trip by the upper arms and pulled his friend up into a
sitting position.

"Captain, I would strongly advise not to...," T'Pol warned.

"...You can't lay him down flat, Sub-Commander," Jon shot back,
unwilling to look back at T'Pol and show her his anger. "His lungs
are congested and he can't breathe properly that way."

"Sir, there are internal injuries."

Jon turned to look at the Vulcan woman. He felt the pit of his
stomach freeze into an icy lump. "What did you say?"

"He is in full renal failure, Captain. The medical scanner indicates
he damaged his left kidney a number of hours before by blunt force
trauma. The injuries apparently sealed themselves, but now have
reopened, perhaps from the physical exertion you expended as you fled
your shelter. His other kidney is failing as well, apparently caused
by the combined effects of dehydration and high fever."

Jon turned back to his best friend. The coughing fit had ended, thank
god, but Trip's breathing was halting and shallow.

"Get on the channel with Phlox," he snapped, "We need to know how to
treat him in transit. And make sure the doctor has a full medical
team waiting for us once we reach the shuttle bay."

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol answered, moving off to her console at the
front of the shuttlepod.

Jon sensed another person beside him. Zobral.

"Can I do anything to assist you, Captain? I feel awful for what has
befallen you and Commander Tucker," the gravely voice said. "Please,
allow me to help."

"Pick that up," Jon said, nodding to the medikit that lay open on the
floor where it had apparently fallen during T'Pol's struggle in
restraining Tucker.

Zobral hauled it up in his beefy hands.

"Look for a vial of rubbing alcohol. There should be one in there."

"I see it," Zobral replied.

Their former host opened the small, pliable container and the pungent
odor of the contents seemed to swirl around them. Zobral started to
hand the small bottle to Archer.

"No, just pour some in my hand," Jon replied. "Here," he said,
reaching out with his right hand while gripping Trip firmly with his
left.

Zobral poured the cool liquid into Jon's open palm. There was a brief
stinging sensation when the aqueous solution seeped into the small,
dry fissures that had formed from the rough treatment he had given
his hands these last hours. When a puddle had formed in his cupped
palm, and the overflow was seeping through the cracks of his fingers,
Jon stopped him by calling, "Good. That's good."

He then turned back to his friend. He placed his right palm flat on
top of Trip's shoulder and felt the younger man jump slightly at the
contact. Jon then began to stroke the rubbing alcohol down Tucker's
bare back. His hands were rougher than usual and he was afraid that
his contact against the bare skin would irritate his friend, but that
didn't seem to be the case.

"Mmmmmm...," the blond man moaned, leaning forward slightly with the
cooling touch.

"That's right," Jon murmured softly. "Just stay with me a bit longer,
Trip. We're almost there."

The younger man's breathing seemed to level out slightly. His eyes
remained tightly closed, his head bent low. Jon sat down on the bench
next to his friend. Twisting his body to his left, towards the back
of the shuttlepod and Trip, he pulled the other man closer and rested
the blond head against his shoulder.

He held out his right hand to Zobral. The alien, seeming to
understand his part in the process, poured more of the rubbing
alcohol into the outstretched palm. Now that the ill man was propped
against him, Jon could use both hands to caress the liquid up and
down Trip's spine, over his shoulders, and down both arms. He reached
out again to Zobral, spreading a steady rotation of cooling liquid
over the feverish body. Moving to the front, he spread the rubbing
alcohol over Trip's abdomen. Tucker hissed when the liquid made
contact with the self-inflicted scratches on his chest, but the
cooling effect must have won out over the pain, as Trip began moaning
softly in relief. Jon moved his hands upwards, over Tucker's
collarbones, throat, and cheek, ending with a gentle scalp massage
through the other man's dusty, blond hair.

Jon's concentration narrowed until he was focused on just the two of
them, with the occasional interruption to get more rubbing alcohol
poured into his palm. He listened intently to Trip's labored
breathing, talking in soothing words as the young man again was
consumed by deep coughs. If he could just get Trip to Enterprise,
everything would be fine. Just a little longer. Trip had to hold on
just a little longer.

"Captain?"

Jon heard T'Pol's voice, as though it was coming from far, far away.
However, he was so focused on Trip, trying to calm the younger man's
breathing after the last coughing bout, that he failed to answer
right away.

"Captain?"

Jon felt a hand touch his shoulder. Looking up, he saw T'Pol standing
next to him, an oxygen mask and a coil of clear tubing in her hand.

"Doctor Phlox recommended putting the commander on oxygen," she
explained, hooking up one end of the tubing to a portable oxygen
canister. "Otherwise, there is little else we can do besides attempt
to ease his discomfort."

Jon nodded his head. He pushed Trip away from him, propping the limp
body back into an upright position in order to allow T'Pol access to
the engineer's face.

After uncoiling the tubing, the Vulcan was about to place the oxygen
mask over Tucker's face when the ill man shook his head and slurred
unhappily, "N...no! D...don't leave me."

"Hey, I'm right here," Jon replied in a warm, comforting tone.

"No...please, Jonny. D...don't leave me, darlin'! D...don't leave!"

Jon glanced up just in time to see T'Pol's eyebrows arch high on her
forehead. He heard Zobral give out a low chuckle beside him. Jon
didn't bother to look back to see if there was any reaction from
Malcolm Reed, but he was certain Trip's voice had carried far enough
to reach the armory officer manning the pilot seat.

The captain decided he didn't care what T'Pol's reaction was, or that
of anyone else for that matter. What was most important at that
moment was Trip--keeping him calm, keeping him alive.

Jon turned back to his ill friend. "I'm not going anywhere. Just stay
with me, buddy. We're almost there."

"W...where? Where are...we goin', Jonny?" Trip groaned, his head
moving from side-to-side in confusion, much to the consternation of
T'Pol, who was still trying to put the oxygen mask into place.

"We're almost to Enterprise," Jon stated happily. "And once Dr. Phlox
has a chance to check you out fully, I promise you'll be able to get
as much sleep as you want."

"Pr...promises...promises!" Trip muttered irritably, raising his hand
to brush away T'Pol's hand from his face.

Jon laughed, reassured on some level that the man he loved would be
all right. "Yeah, I know," he chuckled. "Believe me, this is one
promise that I intend to keep. Just stay with me a while longer,
okay?"

"...'Kay," Trip murmured. His body shivered suddenly, and then a
cough bubbled up from deep inside of him.

"Easy...easy! Just take slow breaths," Jon repeated over and over as
he coached Tucker through his latest coughing spell.

After a long moment, the ill man's breathing finally leveled off.
T'Pol took that opportunity to position the oxygen mask over Tucker's
nose and mouth. After tightening the straps to hold it in place, she
turned to the canister to start the flow of oxygen.

T'Pol placed the canister in Archer's lap and then turned to a
cabinet recessed into the bulkhead above Jon's head. Keying the
cabinet door open, she reached in and pulled out a packet. The sub-
commander placed the item on the bench next to the captain and
unzipped it. As T'Pol started pulling out its contents, Jon
recognized the packet contained magnetic anchors and a length of
white shock webbing.

"Captain, Lieutenant Reed suggests I strap you and Commander Tucker
in."

Jon glanced up at his science officer's face. "Do you think that's
necessary?"

T'Pol looked him in the eye. "It is a necessary precaution, Captain.
We have thus far remained undetected by the planetary defenses.
However, once we destroyed their missile launching facility before
your rescue, I am certain that they know our approximate location and
will be looking for us."

The Vulcan woman turned to Zobral, who was still hovering near
Captain Archer and his sick friend. "When do you estimate the next
gap will occur in the Terothan's orbital detection grid?"

The alien pulled out a datapad from a deep pocket, studied it for a
few moments, and then stated, "We have approximately eight minutes
before the next gap occurs."

T'Pol nodded sharply. "I suggest you go up front to assist Lieutenant
Reed in calculating the best course that will assure our escape with
time to spare. As we will be more open to detection by government
forces once our shuttle gains altitude, you may need to offer the
Lieutenant evasive maneuvers in the event we come under attack."

Zobral turned to Archer. Handing Jon the container of rubbing
alcohol, the alien stated, "I will take my leave of you, Captain. Do
not worry. I will get you and Commander Tucker through the Terothan's
arsenal unscathed."

With that, Zobral turned and made his way to the front of the
shuttlepod.

When Jon looked back at T'Pol, she had already set two magnetic
anchors to the bulkhead, one next to Trip's left shoulder and the
other one by the young man's hip. She then attached the ends of the
shock webbing to both anchors.

"I suggest strapping you in together, Captain."

"I should be up front helping with our escape," Jon stated firmly,
although he couldn't hide the fatigue from his voice.

T'Pol paused. Looking down at Jon with what seemed like a stern
expression, she stated, "Captain, need I remind you that the
commander is not the only one suffering from the effects of
dehydration?"

Jon shook his head, realizing he probably wouldn't win an argument
right now as exhausted as he was. Still, he was the captain and the
safety of his crew and his ship came first above his own  needs.
"Dehydrated or not, Sub-Commander, my duty is to all of us--to  make
sure we all reach Enterprise safely."

T'Pol's eyes gazed at him for a moment, and then turned to take in
Trip's face. Finally, the woman apparently decided how best to
proceed as she looked back to Jon and replied, "If I may, sir, I
believe your place is here with Commander Tucker. You seem to be able
to reach him despite his delirium. Your presence has a calming effect
which is required at this time for his survival." She leaned in
closer. "Captain, we are fully capable of getting the shuttlepod
safely back to Enterprise. Commander Tucker requires assistance until
we have returned to the ship. You are the logical one to remain with
him, given his response to your presence."

Jon studied T'Pol's face for a moment. The silent meaning behind the
Vulcan's words suddenly struck him. Was she offering her tacit
approval of a closer relationship between himself and Tucker?
Whatever the case, she apparently understood what Trip needed and he
was grateful. Jon smiled and said, "Very well, Sub-Commander. I
intend to take good care of him."

The Vulcan nodded her head and then went back to work wrapping the
shock webbing around Jon and Tucker's bodies, forming a tight cocoon
around them.

As T'Pol worked, Jon turned back to the man who was encircled in his
arms.

"Trip? You still with me, buddy?"

The young man's eyes struggled to open. Failing, Tucker wheezed,
nearly unintelligible through the oxygen mask, "J...Jon...neee?"

"Yeah, I'm here...right here. We'll be home soon. Just stay with me a
little bit longer."

Jon glanced back at T'Pol, who was mounting the anchors just to the
right of his shoulder and hip. His science officer then pulled a
sheet of the white webbing tightly across the two men and then
connected it to the new anchors.

"N...no!" came a startled cry next to him, the voice muffled by the
oxygen mask.

Jon looked down, only to find he was looking into Trip's panicky blue
eyes. The younger man's body shuddered violently, his left arm moving
in jerky motions against the webbing as if to free himself.

"Trip...it's okay. It's okay! You're safe," Jon soothed over Trip's
desperate groans as the younger man continued to struggle against the
webbing. Archer slid his right hand up along his friend's chest and
throat until he could cup the side of Tucker's head in his palm. He
scanned the white webbing and felt a shiver course through him. He
understood Trip's terror. It was only a few weeks ago that he and
Trip, along with three other crewmen, found themselves caught in a
similar web. But in that case, an alien creature had ensnared them in
an attempt to absorb their life energies. It had been a close call
back then. The five of them had nearly died.

Jon started to gently stroke across Tucker's temple with his thumb.
He had to reach Trip somehow. He had to calm him down. "Shhhhh. It's
only shock webbing. You're safe. Shhhhh."

After a long moment, Tucker's eyes seemed to focus on Archer's face.

"Jon...neee?" Tucker breathed in a scarcely audible whisper, his blue
eyes finding and locking on Jon's green ones.

Archer smiled. "Yeah, right here. We're okay." Jon slid his hand down
to Trip's collarbone and rubbed gentle circles into the fevered
flesh. "Just relax now. T'Pol has strapped us in because the ride
might get a bit bumpy from here. Hold on, we're almost home."

Trip nodded weakly. Closing his eyes, the engineer seemed to melt
into Jon's embrace.

"Captain," T'Pol stated next to him, drawing Jon's attention back to
his science officer. "Do you require anything before I take my
station?"

Jon smiled as he shook his head. "No, but thanks. I think we'll be
okay back here. Just get us home."

"Very well, sir."

He watched T'Pol move away, leaving Trip and himself alone, firmly
encased in the webbing.

---

For a moment, he listened to the voices of Malcolm and T'Pol up
front, but little by little, Jon's focus returned to the man next to
him on the bench. With the netting tightly surrounding them, Archer
found he could scarcely move. With his left arm tucked snug against
Trip's right side, it meant only his right arm was free for limited
motion between them. Still resting Trip's head against his shoulder,
the captain looked around for the container of rubbing alcohol. He
remembered Zobral handing it to him, but he must have dropped it at
some point.

Still looking around, he spied the container on the bench behind
Trip. It seemed to be an easy reach, but as Jon tried to snake his
right hand out of the webbing and reach down, his movements pressed
Trip back into the webbing slightly. Hearing Tucker let out a muffled
groan through the oxygen mask, Jon froze and then pulled back.

"Trip?"

The other man didn't answer, but continued moaning softly.

"Are you in pain?"

Trip nodded his head weakly.

Realizing that his movements were likely putting pressure against
Trip's injured kidneys, Jon pulled his hand back fully inside their
tight cocoon and sank backwards into the webbing. He ran his fingers
along the side of the white straps, following the path to where the
webbing wrapped across Trip's left side and around to his back.
Sliding his fingertips over to his friend's abdomen, he placed the
palm of his hand over where he thought the man's left kidney would
be. "Here? Does it hurt here and around to your back?" he asked.

The other man nodded his head, his respiration coming in short, agony-
filled breaths.

Jon moved his fingertips up, stroking lightly across Tucker's jawline
and along the side of his friend's neck.

"It's your kidneys, Trip," Jon replied, trying to tell his friend the
truth, but not wanting to alarm him. "I'm sorry. I was trying to
reach the rubbing alcohol. I think there's a portion of the webbing
that's hitting up against your left kidney and my movements
aggravated it. I'm so sorry."

The engineer nodded his head, his moans seeming to lessen as Jon
continued to stroke his neck and face.

"T'Pol thinks you injured your left kidney during the game and later,
as we were getting away just now from the shelter, it must have
started bleeding again. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to move you
just now," Jon added, his voice filled with regret. "Phlox will fix
you up once we get back. Just hang in there, okay?"

"O...kay, Jon...neeee," the younger man gasped miserably as he
attempted to curl tightly against Archer's chest.

"Shhhh. It won't be long now and we'll be back aboard Enterprise,"
Jon soothed. He leaned down and brushed his lips across the other
man's dusty hair and then along his fevered temple.

Archer heard some urgent voices at the front of the shuttlepod. Then
Malcolm's voice shouted, "Incoming fire! Hold on!"

Jon felt a hard jolt as explosions rocked the shuttlepod. He gripped
Trip tightly, holding onto his friend in the hope of cushioning the
worst of the jostling. He was now thankful that his armory officer
had recommended they be strapped in, especially when the next series
of jolts brought them both off of the bench.

Trip gasped with the motion as they both landed back onto the bench
with a harsh bump.

Jon tried to look back towards the front of their shuttle where his
people were working to effect their escape from the continuing
barrage. For a moment, he resented the fact that he had allowed
himself to be tied up in the shock webbing. As captain, it was his
job to assure the safety of his people and their shuttlepod. It was
his job. And he couldn't do his job while stuck in the back of the
shuttlepod while they were under attack.

Suddenly deciding he needed to take direct action, Jon attempted to
reach back to loosen the webbing from its anchor in order to free
himself. However, when Trip let out a painful groan, Jon stopped his
movements. His sense of duty warred with his personal feelings.
Finally, Jon had to resign himself to the fact that there was no
other choice but to rely on his crew and Zobral to get them home to
safety. Attempting to escape the webbing during the middle of an
attack was foolish, and would likely injure his ill friend even
further.

Jon rested back against the webbing and gripped Tucker tight. "I've
got you, love," he murmured as the ship was rocked again.

"Lieutenant!" T'Pol's voice called out clearly from up front.

"I see them!" Reed snapped back.

The captain heard the sound of weapons fire from their shuttlepod
followed by muffled explosions off in the distance. Then their tiny
shuttle arched into a tumbling turn that made it feel as though Jon's
stomach was caught in his throat. Finally, they leveled off and then
began a steep climb through the atmosphere.

He heard T'Pol's voice counting down to some kind of deadline.
Perhaps it was pertaining to the next gap in the Terothan's orbital
detection grid. Surely they had already been spotted by the planet's
defensive system. Perhaps there were more missiles on an intercept
course, or Terothan ships were on their way. Whatever the reason, Jon
didn't want to interrupt his crew's concentration by asking what was
happening.

The shuttlepod suddenly started to pick up speed. When even T'Pol's
voice seemed to sound more stressed as the countdown continued, Jon
surmised that it was going to be close.

He could hear Trip's agonized coughing amid the deafening sounds of
far-off explosions and the screaming of their over-stressed engine.
Jon reached up between them and pulled off the oxygen mask from
Trip's face.

"Easy...easy," Jon repeated as his friend struggled for breath
between harsh coughs. He held the oxygen mask close to Trip's nose
and mouth, but far enough away to allow the ill man to cough freely.

T'Pol's countdown reached zero. Jon waited, but when nothing
happened, he let out a muted sigh of relief.

When the shuttlepod's engines gradually slowed to a more normal
level, Jon decided that he had to know what was going on. Turning his
head slightly, he called out, "Sub-Commander. Report!"

The Vulcan's voice answered immediately. "We have safely cleared the
planet's defenses, Captain. I anticipate reaching the Enterprise
shuttle bay in five point-three-seven minutes."

"Good job, everybody," Jon replied back, the relief evident in his
voice.

He looked down at the man who lay curled in his arms. Trip had
stopped coughing, but his breathing was weak and uneven.

"Did you hear that, Trip? We'll be back to Enterprise in no time at
all."

There was no answer.

"Trip?"

Jon shook his friend gently on the shoulder. "Come on, Trip. Wake up."

Still, there was no answer.

Archer snaked his hand up until he cupped Tucker's chin in the palm
of his hand. He gently rolled the blond head away from his chest. It
was immediately apparent that Trip was unconscious.

"T'Pol!"

His Vulcan science officer was by his side in an instant.

"I can't wake him," Jon said, unable to hold back the alarm in his
voice. "Get the medical scanner. I need to know what's happening to
him. I need to know if there's anything we can do before we get to
Enterprise."

T'Pol retrieved the medical scanner.

"We will arrive in the shuttle bay in approximately four-point two-
seven minutes, Captain," T'Pol informed as she ran the scanner across
Tucker's still form.

She gazed at the readings for a moment, and then looked up at Captain
Archer. In a grave voice, T'Pol stated, "As you can see for yourself,
Captain, the commander is unresponsive. His sustained fever is
affecting all of his vital organs. Renal damage has progressed
further, along with internal bleeding of the affected kidney."

T'Pol placed the medical scanner down on the bench beside Archer and
then reached towards her right, to the webbing that was anchored next
to Tucker's shoulder.

Jon felt the shock webbing loosen from around their bodies. Just
then, the man next to him started to moan in pain.

"T'Pol...stop!"

The Vulcan obeyed, leaving the rest of the webbing anchored in place
as she turned and gazed down at Jon.

The captain looked down at his friend. "Trip?"

The other man didn't answer, simply continued to moan with each
feeble exhale of breath.

"I think you better leave us strapped in until we reach Enterprise,"
Jon said.

"I agree," T'Pol replied. "With your permission, I will contact Dr.
Phlox with an update of Commander Tucker's current condition. I shall
return shortly."

Jon nodded his head. As T'Pol moved away, the captain ran his
fingertips gently over Trip's fevered brow, taming the stray locks of
hair across his hairline.

"Hang on," he whispered, feeling a cold wave of dread roll over  him.
"We're almost home."

The next few minutes were a blur to Jonathan Archer. T'Pol had
returned just long enough to inform him that there was nothing else
that could be done for the commander's condition until they reached
Enterprise. Jon spent anxious moments after that listening to Trip's
ragged breathing. He wasn't aware that they had arrived in the
shuttle bay until he noticed Malcolm Reed kneeling on the bench next
to him, removing the shock webbing from the anchors behind him while
T'Pol was taking care of the shock webbing on Trip's side. Dr. Phlox
stood in front of them, waving a medical scanner over the ill man's
body.

As Malcolm and T'Pol continued to remove the webbing from around
them, Jon noticed that Trip was no longer responding to the added
movement. That frightened Jon even more.

It wasn't until the webbing was completely removed and the medical
team was maneuvering a stretcher into place next to them that Jon
realized he was still clutching Trip tightly against him.

The medical team pulled Trip from Jon's arms and placed the young
man's limp body on top of the stretcher. Almost simultaneously, Phlox
was administering a hypo to the side of Trip's neck. He then looked
up and nodded to his team and they all left abruptly with the
stretcher. Jon noticed that the doctor kept his medical scanner
trained on the prone form all the while they were stepping out of the
shuttlepod.

"Captain?"

Jon looked back to find Crewman Elizabeth Cutler hovering over him.
She held a medical scanner out.

"I'm fine," Jon said, standing up hastily. He swayed to his right,
discovering too late that he hadn't regained his legs after their
rough journey from the planet's surface. A strong pair of hands
steadied him--the hands of Malcolm Reed.

"Easy does it, Captain," Reed stated, nodding to Cutler.

"Please, sir," Cutler said, turning on the medical scanner and waving
it over Archer's chest. "This will only take a moment."

"Really, I'm fine. I just need to make sure Trip is okay."

"Then allow us to escort you to sickbay, sir," Malcolm replied.

Jon looked ahead to where T'Pol was standing. Judging by the Vulcan's
unrelenting glare, the captain knew he wouldn't be getting any help
from her.

Admitting he was outnumbered, he allowed Reed and Cutler to help him
out of the shuttlepod. Once setting foot on the deck, however, he
shook off their hands and made his way with determined strides
towards sickbay, leaving the others in his wake. Jon had only one
thing on his mind--to be by Trip's side. After coming so close to
losing his best friend today, he needed to assure himself that
Charles Tucker would be all right.

Upon his arrival, Jon found that sickbay was a hubbub of activity.
Trip's unconscious body was in the imaging chamber. Dr. Phlox was
obviously busy sorting through the readings that the diagnostic
device was giving him on the ill man's condition.

Jon took a position next to the Denobulan doctor. "How is he?"

Phlox turned. Serious eyes looked up at Jon and it made the captain
draw in a sharp breath. The doctor responded, "Well, Captain, as you
humans are so fond of saying, I have good news and bad news. The good
news is Commander Tucker is responding well to the Ardaxia that I
administered upon your arrival. I have also put him on an intravenous
drip to replenish his fluid levels." The doctor's eyes strayed to his
left and the medical display. "You can see here that his body
temperature is starting to slowly lower to more normal levels."

"...And the bad news?" Jon asked, his voice sounding hoarse from all
that he had been through that day.

Phlox raised his hand up to the panel, pointing out something on the
scanned image. "Commander Tucker sustained damage to four ribs on his
left side, caused by blunt force trauma. Sub-Commander T'Pol's
medical scans correctly diagnosed the renal damage that the commander
has sustained. Once his condition has stabilized, I will need to
perform surgery to stop the bleeding that is occurring in the
vicinity of his left kidney."

"Oh," Jon answered, unable to hide the immense worry in his voice.

Phlox looked back at him and a slight smile tugged at the Denobulan's
mouth. "Do not worry yourself, Captain. Commander Tucker's injuries,
though serious, can be easily repaired. I understand the conditions
that you found yourselves on the planet were quite horrific. I
commend you on your ability to keep the commander alive until we were
able to recover both of you from the planet's surface."

Jon winced. "I don't deserve to be commended for anything. I nearly
got Trip killed down there," he answered harshly, shaking his head in
disgust.

Phlox remained silent as he entered a sequence into the panel next to
him and the platform holding Tucker's body started to slowly move out
of the tubular scanning chamber.

When the doctor turned back to Jon, Phlox gazed up at him with eyes
that seemed filled with the wisdom of the ages. "Captain. If I may,
you of all people know the dangers that we face during our mission
into deep space. Commander Tucker knows this as well. You did the
best you could under the circumstances that were presented to you. It
was most fortunate that Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed were
able to locate you in time, otherwise I would most certainly have
only bad news for you this day. Of course, it is my understanding
that Zobral lent a hand in your rescue, as well." The doctor smiled
softly and then continued, "Please, Captain. Be glad for a good
prognosis and happy endings."

"Yeah, we were lucky today. Maybe luckier than we had the right to
be."

By this time, the platform holding Tucker's body had completely
retracted from the scanning chamber. Jon gazed down into his friend's
sunburned, yet peaceful face. The blond man was still unconscious,
but he seemed to be breathing a lot easier. Archer moved in closer,
placing his hand on the younger man's bare shoulder. He was gratified
to find that Trip's skin felt cooler than it had all that day in the
hot desert. The drugs were apparently working, just as Phlox's
medical scans had indicated. Still, Jon realized he hadn't truly
believed the doctor until he could touch Trip and make certain for
himself.

A muted throat clearing brought his attention back to Phlox's face.

"Captain. My medical team has the surgery suite ready. We need to
prep Commander Tucker for surgery."

Jon nodded his head. He moved away, allowing the medical team to lift
Tucker's body off of the platform and onto a gurney. He watched them
wheel the man he loved into the surgical suite. The door closed
behind them with a silent whoosh, leaving Jon all alone.

---

Archer stood there, staring at the door to the surgical suite,
contemplating whether to stay or leave, when Crewman Cutler and Sub-
Commander T'Pol entered sickbay. It soon became apparent what they
were up to. If he weren't so worried about Trip, Jon would have been
in better humor as the two ganged up on him to undergo a thorough
examination.

Jon protested when Cutler wanted to insert an IV line to replenish
his fluid level. But after T'Pol's stern insistence, he finally
relented.

As Cutler was midway through the exam, it dawned on the captain that
perhaps Phlox had contacted T'Pol from the surgical suite, giving her
the 'all clear' to move in. Well, at least they waited until after
Trip had been taken into surgery before they started harassing him.

Of course, he knew Cutler was only doing her job. Jon had to admit
that he started to feel a lot better a few minutes after she inserted
the IV. He relaxed as he lay within the confines of the medical
scanner, feeling the exhaustion starting to finally catch up with
him. All he wanted right now was to be done with the exam, grab a
shower and some clean clothes, and be back in sickbay waiting for
Trip to get out of surgery.

After the platform on which Jon was laying was fully retracted from
the scanning unit, Cutler went to work finishing the exam. As Jon lay
there, T'Pol gave him a full update on ship status. The captain
agreed with her decision to assign Lieutenant Reed the task of
keeping Zobral company and out of mischief until the alien could
depart. The next opening in the Terothan's defense grid wouldn't
occur for another thirty minutes, so they were stuck with the rebel
leader at least until then. Malcolm reported that Zobral had already
started trying to sweet talk him into handing over a number of phase
weapons from Enterprise's arsenal in payment for helping them find
Archer and Tucker. Jon knew he should have seen that one coming a
parsec away.

Frankly, Jon didn't care whether he ever set eyes on Zobral again.
Sure, the freedom fighter probably saved their lives. T'Pol reported
Zobral was instrumental in helping Malcolm pilot the shuttlepod down
to the planet's surface undetected. Perhaps Zobral's cause was a
worthy one, but that wasn't what their mission aboard Enterprise was
about. Jon was going to take his chief engineer's advice this time
and just walk away. Besides, Jon didn't think he could ever forgive
Zobral for manipulating them and almost getting Trip killed.

Finally, the exam was over. Cutler removed the IV that had been
adding vital fluids to Jon's dehydrated body. Archer had to promise
he'd drink plenty of water to rehydrate himself fully and not overtax
himself physically for the next twenty-four hours before Cutler said
that he was free to go.

"Let me know as soon as there's any word about Trip," Jon ordered as
he hopped off of the biobed.

"Aye, Captain," Cutler replied. "Here's something to use on your face
and hands, sir." She handed him a tube of medicated lotion.

Nodding his head, Jon turned and started walking towards the exit. He
noticed that T'Pol was following.

Once they were through the exit and into the corridor, Jon turned to
his Vulcan science officer. "I want you to set up a meeting with
Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Mayweather, Zobral, and the two of us in ten
minutes in my ready room. We still have a shuttlepod down there to
retrieve, unless it's been destroyed in the missile attack on
Zobral's camp."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be in my quarters, washing a day's worth of sand off of my
skin. Comm me if something comes up before then."

"Aye, Captain."

With that, Jon made his way back to his cabin. Porthos was, of
course, waiting for him once he arrived. That helped lift his
spirits, although his thoughts never strayed too far from that of his
ill friend in surgery.

After picking up the dog and cradling the wriggling bundle of energy
in his arms, Jon received a thorough face washing the likes he'd
never seen. The dog was apparently so excited to see him that Porthos
probably would have licked Jon's face raw had his owner let him.

"Good boy! Goooood boy! I've missed you too," Jon exclaimed, enjoying
the simple pleasure of holding his companion and receiving such
unconditional love.

He always felt the lovable beagle was psychically connected to him on
some level. He was certain T'Pol would give him some logical
explanation for the fact that Porthos always seemed to be the first
to know when Jon was down or upset. Well, Jon could think whatever he
wanted, logic be damned. His canine companion always knew when
something was up, and this time was no exception.

Reassuring Porthos, and himself, that everything was going to be all
right, Jon set the dog down on the doggie bed. The captain checked
and found that both the food and water dishes were filled. It was
obvious that someone had made sure the beagle was taken care of while
his master was on the planet's surface. For that, he was grateful.

Once in the bathroom, Jon quickly peeled off his dusty, sweat-
encrusted clothes. He then stepped into the shower and turned on the
faucet. He set the timer to five minutes and the temperature down a
couple of notches. Then Jon stood, face uplifted, and allowed the
water to drench him completely. It stung, at first, as water hit the
sunburned skin of his face and hands, but that didn't matter. He
simply basked in the coolness of the water as it cascaded down his
body. After spending an entire day in the scorching sun, traveling by
foot across a barren desert, the shower felt like heaven to his
sinuses and overheated body.

He squirted out a handful of soap gel. Lathering up, he breathed in
the spicy scent of sandalwood as he washed the sand and sweat away.
Closing his eyes, Jon allowed his mind to float free and release the
tension of the past day and a half.

As he spread the soapy lather down over his abdomen, an image formed
in Jon's mind--an image of the man that he loved. He *did* tell Trip
in the shelter that he loved him, didn't he? Well, perhaps he hadn't
said it in so many words. They told each other a lot of things that
day, but no words that directly expressed their love. Besides, Trip
was so sick at the time. Would Tucker even remember saying those
things to him? Did he really mean it in the way that Jon thought he
did?

Archer shook his head, letting the water splash off of his closely
cropped hair.

There was time to work things out later regarding their feelings for
one another. But Trip was also Jon's best friend. That would never
change. They'd  get through this, whether Jon's desire for a deeper
relationship was  mutual or not. If they did share deeper feelings for
one another,  then Jon planned to take things slow. Despite
everything, they were  still Starfleet officers and Trip was his
subordinate. They had too  much going for them to throw it all away
now. Jon just hoped he  wouldn't chicken out when it came time for
them to talk.

Letting his breath out with a deep sigh, Jon closed his eyes and let
his hands wander down his front to his partially erect cock. Now that
the immediate danger was past, and he'd received Phlox's reassurances
that Trip would be all right, Jon could look back at their time
together more objectively. He savored the memory of feeling Trip's
body resting in his arms during their return to Enterprise. At the
time, his friend was so desperately ill and feverish that Jon's only
concern was the engineer's survival. But now, he could acknowledge
how wonderful it was to hold the younger man, to brush his lips
across the ruffled blond hair and whisper into his ear.

Jon formed an image of his friend in his mind and began to stroke his
cock in earnest, feeling the organ fill with blood at his touch. Jon
wanted his friend so much. He could almost picture Trip there in the
shower with him. He wanted to touch him, to hold him in his arms
every night, and wake up in his arms every morning. Jon knew he
should feel guilty about taking this moment to daydream after all
they had just been through, but he was too far gone by now to stop.

As he did on many occasions while alone in his bunk late at night,
the images Jon conjured up of Trip became more erotic and sensual,
until their two bodies were joined, writhing against each other with
wild abandon as their passion built to a fevered pitch. With a few
more pulls, Jon erupted with a loud groan, splattering the shower
wall with his fluid. He pressed his forehead against the wall,
letting the water wash his seed away as he moaned Trip's name over
and over again, almost imagining his companion's voice whispering his
name in passionate reply.

The cascade of water stopped suddenly with a click of the timer. Jon
opened his eyes and stood up straight. Shaking the water from his
hair, he stepped out of the shower stall and grabbed a towel to dry
himself. Thoughts of Trip would have to wait until the duties of a
starship captain were satisfied and they were safely away from
Zobral's homeworld.

After pulling on a fresh uniform, Jon took a moment to finger-brush
his damp hair into place and then dab on some of the medicated lotion
on his sunburned face and hands before heading out the door.

The next few hours were taken up with the attempted retrieval of
their shuttlepod from the planet's surface. Zobral gave his full
cooperation in helping to plan the operation, even offering his own
shuttle to return Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Mayweather to the
planet's surface.

In the privacy of his ready room, T'Pol insisted that she could
handle the situation herself and tried to convince Jon that he should
go back to his cabin to rest. She pointed out that he hadn't slept
since before they had received Zobral's distress call the day before.
However, Jon was too antsy to allow himself that luxury just yet. His
place was on the bridge. He was the one who had gotten them into this
mess in the first place and he wasn't about to ask someone else to
get them out of it.

Jon had actually considered returning to the planet himself in
Zobral's shuttle, but knew he wasn't up to it physically. Besides, he
didn't want to be separated from Trip, at least not until Jon could
see him for himself and knew that his best friend would recover fully
from his injuries.

Pacing back and forth in front of his command chair, Jon waited for
Malcolm Reed to report that their shuttle had arrived safely on the
planet's surface. After the close call they had on their rescue, Jon
wouldn't stop worrying about his people until everyone was safely
back aboard Enterprise and they had left this god forsaken planet.

A signal beeped on the communications panel and Jon spun to the
officer who was working beta shift at Hoshi's post.

"Lieutenant Reed to Enterprise."

Jon nodded to the comm officer to open the channel and then
responded, "This is Enterprise. Go ahead, Malcolm."

"Captain, we're at Zobral's campsite. The entire village has been
destroyed."

Jon hung his head, wondering how many innocent lives were lost in
that barrage. A shudder coursed through him with the memory of what
it had felt like as he and Trip hid in the bunker beneath Zobral's
house the night before and the bombs were exploding all around them.

"Understood, Lieutenant," Jon replied, his voice sounding  hoarse.
"Have you located our shuttlepod?"

"Yes, sir." There was a pause, and then Reed's voice continued, "It
has been destroyed as well, Captain."

"I see. What is your recommendation, Lieutenant?"

"Mayweather and I have taken a quick sweep of the interior, sir.
There is very little that we can salvage. Besides, the hull is so
badly damaged that it would most likely break up enroute if we tried
using the grapplers to bring it back to the ship. I recommend
detonating an explosive charge within the hull, just to make certain
no one can make use of the technology for their own purposes. Two or
three of the plasma grenades should do the job."

"I agree. Better get to it."

"Ensign Mayweather is already at work pulling out all that is
recoverable, sir. I expect it may take about thirty minutes to
complete a quick salvage job and rig the hull with explosives. That
should put us in line to meet the next gap in the Terothan's orbital
detection grid."

"Understood. Try to be quick about it, Lieutenant. I don't want you
to spend any more time down there than necessary."

"Aye, sir. Oh...and sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Zobral asked whether your sensor sweeps of his encampment have
turned up anything. I understand our first sweep came up negative. I
would hate to think anyone is still alive under the rubble. We have
seen no one. Either they've fled, or..."

Jon signaled to T'Pol and then replied, "I've asked the Sub-Commander
to do a final scan now, Lieutenant."

"Understood," Reed replied.

"We'll let you know if we find anything. Enterprise, out."

The next few minutes were some of the longest in Jon's recent memory.
He continued to pace, knowing full well that if he took the time to
actually sit in his command chair, he'd feel the fatigue start to
seep into his body. He couldn't allow himself to rest until Reed and
Mayweather were back, safe and sound. He felt T'Pol glance up at him
occasionally, but he never met her gaze, just continued to pace.

In the middle of his pacing, the communications panel beeped again.
Jon whirled, looking at the chronometer. It was too early for Reed to
report in. Hoshi's replacement opened the channel and Dr. Phlox's
voice came over the speakers, "Sickbay to Captain Archer."

Jon stopped in front of his command chair. Clutching the arm of the
chair, he replied, "Archer, here. I hope you have good news for me,
Doctor."

"Oh, indeed, I do, Captain," Phlox's bouncy voice began. "I'm pleased
to report that Commander Tucker came out of surgery remarkably well
and, I might add, will make a full recovery."

Jon smiled as he turned towards T'Pol. "That's great news, Doctor!
I'll stop by as soon as I can."

"Very well, Captain. However, I believe the commander will be
unconscious for some time. I will contact you as soon as he awakens."

"Thanks, Doctor. You be sure to do that. Archer, out."

Jon grinned at T'Pol, and then turned away to face the viewscreen.
Knowing full well that no one could see his face at the moment, he
felt the first rush of tears well up behind his eyes as he gazed at
the planet below. Fighting them off, he told himself that it was just
the fatigue setting in. But it felt as though a huge weight had
suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. Trip was going to be all
right. He remembered Phlox giving him assurances in sickbay that the
surgery would likely be successful; nonetheless, Jon still couldn't
help but worry.

Archer started to pace again, trying to keep his mind focused on the
mission at hand. If he didn't, he would be sorely tempted to rush
down to sickbay and look in on Trip. He knew his place was on the
bridge and, for a brief moment, he became troubled over what this new
relationship with his best friend could mean to his objectivity as
captain. He shoved that thought aside, knowing there was a lot to
talk out with Trip before they could ever move their friendship into
a fully intimate relationship. Jon's first duty was to the ship and
his crew. He had to keep his personal feelings out of his decisions
otherwise he'd be ineffective as a starship captain.

As he was mulling this over, the comm panel signaled once again. This
time it was Lieutenant Reed.

"Sir, we have stowed what we could salvage from the shuttlepod inside
of Zobral's shuttle, and I have armed the detonators."

"Understood, Lieutenant," Jon replied. He looked over at the ship's
chronometer. "I have you at six minutes before the next gap in the
defense grid, at my mark." Jon waited until the time counted down and
then replied, "Mark."

"Aye, sir. We will lift off shortly before I trigger the detonation.
Zobral fears that the Terothans might pick up the explosion on their
sensors and target the encampment again."

"A wise decision, Lieutenant."

Jon turned to T'Pol. "Did you find anything, Sub-Commander?"

The Vulcan woman looked up from her scans. "Negative, Captain. I only
detect the presence of Zobral and our two officers in the encampment."

"Did you hear that, Lieutenant?"

"Understood. I just hope they were able to get away like you and
Commander Tucker did, sir."

"I agree. Signal us when you're underway."

"Aye, sir. Reed, out."

Once again, Jon had to wait until Reed reported back in. While he
waited, he began to pace.

It only took three paces back and forth before the Lieutenant
reported in that they had lifted off and were ready to detonate the
plasma grenades within the hull of Pod 1. They kept the comm channel
open after Jon gave the order. The resulting explosion could be heard
clearly over the comm speakers on the bridge.

"Captain," T'Pol's voice called out, "I am detecting a mortar launch
targeting Zobral's encampment. ETA, twelve point three-one seconds."

"Malcolm...you have incoming. Get outta there!" Jon warned.

"Understood," the clipped voice responded, "Reed, out."

The comm link went dead, and Jon felt himself go numb with worry and
doubt. Had he made the right decision to send Malcolm and Travis down
to the planet's surface? Of course, he felt responsible for Zobral,
as well. Although he was still upset with the rebel leader, Jon did
owe him a debt of gratitude for helping to rescue Trip and himself
from the planet's surface.

He stood motionless, gazing out through the viewscreen to the planet
below and wishing that he could see what was going on with his men.
Jon knew there was very little he could do to keep them safe. As they
waited, T'Pol used the ship's sensors to note the shuttle's progress
through the planet's atmosphere.

"Sir, the Terothans still appear to be targeting the encampment,"
T'Pol reported. "I believe they have not yet detected Zobral's
shuttle."

"Let's hope we keep it that way," Jon stated.

After a few tense minutes, Lieutenant Reed reported that their
shuttle had cleared the Terothan's defense system. They were safe.

---

Jon and T'Pol met the team in Enterprise's shuttle bay. There was
depressingly little that Reed and Mayweather were able to salvage
from Pod 1. Thank goodness Enterprise had left on its mission with
parts to construct additional pods as needed. Jon was certain Trip
would want his engineering team to get on that project as soon as
possible.

Once the remains of Pod 1 had been unloaded from Zobral's shuttle and
secured, Jon took it upon himself to act as host to the rebel leader
until the next gap in the Terothan's orbital detection grid
approached. Zobral tried again to implore Captain Archer to join in
the rebel's fight but, by this time, it was apparent that the
argument was a lost cause. To his credit, Zobral seemed to be
genuinely sorry for what befell Jon and Trip in the desert that day,
not to mention how close Commander Tucker had come to dying.

Finally, it was time for the rebel leader to depart. T'Pol joined
Archer to see their visitor off.

"My launch window opens in nine minutes; I should be going," Zobral
said as the three of them entered the shuttle bay. The man turned
towards Jon and reached out, touching the captain on the elbow. "I
hope Commander Tucker is going to be all right."

"I doubt I'll ever convince him to set foot on another desert,
but...he'll be fine," Jon replied stiffly.

The other man nodded his head, and then started to pull a red plaid
hood up over his head.

"Zobral," Jon continued, "Even if I were the warrior you thought I
was, that's not why we're out here."

The rebel leader hesitated, and then extended his hand to Jon and
shook hands.

"Captain," the other man said in farewell. He then turned to  T'Pol.
"Sub-Commander."

After they watched Zobral depart, Jon and his Vulcan science officer
started back towards the bridge. A few paces down the corridor, T'Pol
turned to Archer and said, "What you told him was correct. Decisions
to get involved in conflicts of other worlds should be left to
governments, not starship captains."

"I know. The irony is, I have the feeling his cause is worth fighting
for."

They turned down a corner and walked in silence for a few more paces.

"Captain, may I remind you that you have not sufficiently recovered
from your ordeal on the planet's surface. Once we are underway, may I
suggest you get some rest?"

Jon stopped mid-stride and faced the woman directly. "I appreciate
your concern, Sub-Commander, but I need to check on Trip."

"Dr. Phlox reported that Commander Tucker's surgery was successful,"
T'Pol answered. "However, the doctor has not reported back that the
commander has regained consciousness. It would be wise for you to use
whatever time there is until Commander Tucker awakens to rest and
rehydrate yourself."

Jon shook his head. "I just want to look in on him, T'Pol. I won't be
able to rest until I see for myself that he's okay. Do you
understand?"

T'Pol studied Jon's features for a moment. In a serious tone, she
replied, "I have found that humans require certain affirmations in
order to believe something is true--even when logic dictates that it
is." The Vulcan paused for a moment, and then continued, "However, I
understand your close attachment to the commander, so I suggest you
go to him now. In his present condition, it is apparent he will not
know of your presence. Am I correct in saying that seeing him will
bring you comfort?"

"Yes," Jon answered, surprised that the Vulcan seemed to understand
his reasoning. "It will give me peace of mind...seeing for myself
that he's all right." He brushed his hand through his hair and then
continued, "I know I almost lost him today, and that scared the hell
out of me."

T'Pol's eyes seemed to soften slightly. "Then I will not keep you any
longer, Captain. I will be on the bridge if you need me."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander," Jon answered gratefully.

After the Vulcan departed, Jon sprinted as fast as his weary legs
could take him. As he entered sickbay, he found the Denobulan doctor
standing next to Trip's biobed, scrutinizing the bio readings above
the ill man's head.

"Captain?" Phlox stated, his voice rising slightly with surprise as
Jon took a spot next to the biobed directly across from the  doctor.
"How may I help you?"

Jon glanced at Phlox's questioning blue eyes and then looked down,
studying Charles Tucker's peaceful face. "I just wanted to look in on
him, Doctor--to see for myself that he's all right."

"Of course, Captain. It was a simple procedure to stop the bleeding.
The commander's body temperature has returned to normal levels, as
well."

Jon placed his palm over Trip's forehead, discovering that Phlox was
correct; his friend's fever was gone. He moved his hand down into
Trip's hair, his thumb gently caressing over his friend's  temple.
"How long will he be out?"

"He should be waking up at any moment, Captain," Phlox stated. The
doctor walked over to the side of the biobed where Archer was
standing and touched him on the upper arm. "You can rest in sickbay
while you are waiting."

When Jon looked back at the Denobulan, Phlox nodded to his right. "As
you can see, Commander Tucker is my only patient tonight, so I have
plenty of empty beds."

The doctor crinkled his face into a wide grin and then turned and
walked away. He watched as Phlox pulled the privacy curtain around,
sealing Trip and himself from view. Jon thought it over for a moment.
After going without sleep for so long, his own bunk sounded like
heaven compared to stretching out on one of the biobeds in sickbay.
However, he found he couldn't leave Trip's side--not just yet. He
wanted to be there when the younger man woke up.

Jon finger-combed through Trip's hair, mussing it up in the process.
With a warm smile, he smoothed away the errant locks across his brow
and then ran his fingertips down along the other man's cheek.

"Mmmmmmm...?"

Startled, Jon pulled his hand away from Tucker's face.

"Trip? You back with me, buddy?"

The younger man's face grimaced slightly as his body stirred.

"Trip?"

"Mmmmmmmm....J...Jonny?" the blond man choked, his voice hoarse and
weak. The engineer tried to open his eyes as he moved his head
slightly to the left towards where Jon was standing.

"Yeah, right here, Trip," Archer answered, placing a hand on his
friend's shoulder.

"S...sorry," the younger man groaned, still struggling to open his
eyelids.

"Sorry for what, Trip?"

"I...I fell 'sleep on ya...did'n I?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. We're back home on Enterprise."

"B...but...I let ya down...Jonny."

Jon rested his right hip on the edge of Trip's bed and leaned in
close. Encircling Tucker in his arms, he lifting the ill man slightly
so he could rest the blond head against his chest. "No, you didn't
let me down, Trip. Honest." Jon gave the other man an affectionate
hug. "We're safe. We're home on Enterprise. Now why don't you get
some sleep and I'll do the same, okay? We've had a long day, haven't
we?"

"Yeah..." Trip sighed.

Jon absentmindedly stroked the back of Trip's neck as he held the
young man against his chest.

"Uh...Jonny?" Tucker murmured, his voice flattening to a sleepy
monotone.

"Yeah, Trip?"

"Y...yer not...gonna bust me down...ta steward...are ya?"

Jon grinned, remembering how hard he had argued and cajoled his
friend in order to keep him awake on the planet's surface all those
hours. He stroked his fingertips up from Trip's nape and through his
blond hair. "You must be dreaming, Commander," he teased,  gently.
"I'd never bust my best engineer down to cleaning kettles."

"Ya...sounded...mighty convincin'... Jonny," Tucker replied with a
yawn.

"Go to sleep, Trip. Your job is secure."

Tucker sighed contentedly, seemingly too tired to talk any further.
As Jon watched, the younger man slowly drifted off into a deep,
healing sleep.

The captain continued to hold his friend for a long time thereafter,
enjoying the coolness of the previously super-heated body, happy in
the knowledge that the one he loved was safe. He didn't hear the
doctor's silent footsteps behind him, nor did he care. Trip was going
to be okay, and that was the most important thing in Jon's universe
at the moment. Soon, his own body succumbed to his overwhelming
fatigue. Much later, when he happened to awaken for a few moments, he
found himself curled up on his side next to Trip on the narrow
biobed. A railing had been pulled up to keep him from falling off on
his side. A soft blanket stretched across both of them. He heard
Phlox's bemused voice suggest he go back to sleep. And so, Jon did.

---

The End