...But, oh, Mario, we're only to Ohio
It's kind of getting harder to breath
I won't let it show, I'm all about denial But can't denial let me believe
That we could talk about it
But we can't talk about it

Because nobody knows that's how I nearly fell Trading quotes and ringing Pavlov's bell History shows, but rarely shows it well

Oh Mario, why if this is nothing
I'm finding it so hard to dismiss
If you're what I need then only you can save me So come on baby give me the fix
And let's just talk about it
I've got to talk about it...

--Aimee Mann, Pavlov's Bell

CHAPTER 1

"You're going to love this, Trip." Jon smiled enthusiastically the moment his best friend walked in the door.

"New beer?" As though they were going to find more beer in the Expanse. Jon rolled his eyes.

"Nope."

"New water polo match?"

"Nope."

"Mud wrestling?"

"Wrong again."

"Are you going to make me stand here all night guessing or are you gonna spill?" He plopped down on the couch grabbing a bottle of the usual Japanese beer Jon seemed so fond of (he blamed Hoshi for that one) and stared at the captain expectantly.

"Well I could tell you, but that would spoil all the fun."

Trip punched him in the arm playfully, not that it still didn't hurt. "Come on, Cap'n, the anticipation is killing me."

Jon took one look into those pouting blue eyes and submitted with a mock sigh, "Fine, fine. While I was on the bridge today, going over your infinitely interesting report on the effect of impurities in the dilithium crystals and warp field fluctuations, we received a subspace message. It was a very exciting message, so much so that Ensign Sato had the nerve to interrupt me just as I was getting to climax of your report. Those muons, who knows when they will decided to change polarity!" Jon teased with a shit-eating grin.

Trip rolled his eyes, "Very funny, Jon. I happen to take my reports very seriously."

"And Starfleet R&D hangs on your every word."

"All the more reason to write a whole lot of them," he grinned mischievously, though it seemed a hollow facsimile of the smile Jon remembered, the smile before the Expanse. Even dulled as it was, Jon found it enrapturing, easily drawing him out of the cloud of single-minded professional dedication this mission had laid on him.

"Fine for the R&D guys, but I have to read them too!"

"Seriously, Cap'n. Minute fluctuations in the warp field didn't matter before, but with the gravitational anomalies of the Expanse..."

Jon held up his hands in surrender, "No talking shop in my quarters. Porthos doesn't like it when we talk over his head."

"Hmmm...Porthos doesn't like it, eh? I guess you'll just have to stop stalling and tell me about that transmission, without giving the reaction of every member of the senior staff and Chef to boot!"

Jon leaned back, taking a triumphant sip of beer and rested his hand on the top of the couch behind Trip's shoulders. Trip didn't even notice. He simply turned to Jon and glared. Jon had to resist putting his arm around him just then. He loved that playfully indignant look on his friend's face. "It's all about the presentation, Trip."

"Whatever. If you don't tell me now, I'm going to conveniently forget to maintain the gravity plating in your quarters, hopefully when you're in the shower."

"Are you threatening a senior officer, Commander?" Jon tried desperately to sound serious with a Vulcan-worthy eyebrow raise, but failed miserably. It felt so good to resume their usual banter. Until now, he hadn't realized how much he missed this. They'd been so preoccupied with their mission that they hadn't had the time to put into these casual meetings, or their friendship for that matter. Trip was growing closer to T'Pol (not that Jon was at all jealous) and Jon was growing closer to the mission. They could still read each other in an instant, and this wasn't at all awkward, it just wasn't what it once was. Even now they couldn't quite forget the sword hanging over their heads: the mission, the reasons for it, the fact that this was probably just the calm before the storm.

"Not threatening, just informing him of the risks associated with annoying the chief engineer."

Jon sighed in mock exasperation. "Alright, you win. We got a transmission asking to help a colony that opposes the Xindi to fix their...drum roll please...shield generators."

Trip leapt off the sofa to look Jon in the eyes. Jon missed the proximity of his body almost immediately. "Are you serious?"

"When am I ever not?"

Jon could see the slight panic in Trip's eyes before he smirked. Am I really getting detached enough for Trip to actually hesitate on that? he thought. "I could write a book on the subject, Jon. But anyway, do you know what a stable shield technology could do for us?"

Jon just nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

"I bet you Malcolm's chomping at the bit."

"He already submitted several formal requests to join the away team. I had to reject them, however. The Anatman are committed pacifists. That's why they oppose the Xindi. I don't think Malcolm's particular brand of diplomacy will go over well there. I doubt they would react well to Mr. Walk-softly-and-carry-a-couple-of-phase-cannons inspecting their shield generators."

Trip chuckled, "So that's what that dark cloud I saw marching off to the mess hall was."

"I'm afraid so. Malcolm is the shield expert, after all. Shame to lose his talents."

"I think I can function perfectly well without him, thank you. I didn't get to be Chief Engineer of the first warp 5 Starship by twiddlin' my thumbs, did I? Besides, Malcolm's a great friend, but he sure is a pain in the ass to work with. 'Trip, you only checked the alignment three times; shouldn't you do it again, just to make sure? Need I remind you, Commander, that we are alone in hostile territory; our weapons systems are top priority. Trip, do you have to do that engine diagnostic right now when the forward torpedo tubes need cleaning?'"

Jon laughed, motioning for Trip to return to his seat, "I thought we agreed, no shop."

"You were the one who brought it up, Cap'n."

Jon scowled, though his eyes were smiling. Teasing Trip would never get old.

CHAPTER 2

Trip manned the helm, stealing glances at T'Pol, who maintained her usual aura of Vulcan calm beside him. He could barely contain his enthusiasm. He would get a chance to look at an honest-to-God shielding system, one strong enough to protect an entire colony from weapons as powerful as the Xindi's. So he might be a little overzealous, but that didn't mean that T'Pol had the right to shoot him the Vulcan equivalent of a glare every time he fidgeted in anticipation. He was probably destabilizing her emotion-repelling shield. Too bad for her. He gave her a winning smile and went back to his console.

He didn't want to appear delinquent in his piloting abilities. Not that he cared what T'Pol thought. He was more concerned about not giving Hoshi a heart attack. Poor Hoshi, she hated shuttle pods; they made her claustrophobic, yet she had to put up with them because her skills were in high demand. He fought the urge to turn around and try to reassure her. She wasn't a child and he couldn't treat her like one, fears or not. In fact, he was proud of how far she had come in overcoming her initial weaknesses. That didn't mean he was going to stop trying to protect her anytime soon, however. It was the gentleman's duty to protect the lady, after all.

He wished Jon had come. Even though he was the captain, he would certainly lighten the mood, and end all this goddamn uncomfortable silence. Hoshi was too busy trying not to think about crashing and T'Pol was...well, she was T'Pol.

Jon had that magical ability to make everyone feel right at home. Too bad T'Pol had used the same arguments that Jon had used to keep Malcolm home to persuade the captain to let her lead the away mission. Trip had fought a smile at the look on both Malcolm and Jon's face when she used exact same wording. Then again, he supposed it was no laughing matter: After that whole airlock incident, not to mention the thing with the hatchlings, they were all too aware of Jon's growing militarism. And if Vulcans knew anything it was non-interference if not true pacifism. The Anatman would love T'Pol.

Ordinarily, this might worry Trip. He wasn't exactly the most passive of people, and he might antagonize them. But he'd never met a machine he couldn't charm, so as long as they left him alone with the shield generator he would be too far gone in his euphoric technology-induced stupor to bother anybody. He'd leave the diplomacy to T'Pol.

"Is there any particular reason you insist on looking at me in that manner?" T'Pol was really annoyed now. His smile widened. It seemed T'Pol was one of the few people who could still get a rise out of him these days. Then again, she had always annoyed him beyond reason, but now it was in a good way. Bickering with T'Pol made everything seem so...normal. Unfortunately this mission was far from normal.

"None at all, Sub-Commander," He tried to sound sweet, but it came out dripping with sarcasm. He just caught the slight twitch in the vein by her jaw before he had to focus on piloting again.

Trip watched in amazement as the light blue of the shield flickered for an instant as they approached it, allowing them to pass though. Behind him, he heard Hoshi let out the breath she had been holding. Again, he wished Jon were here. Jon would know just what to say to comfort the young ensign. Trip made a meager attempt, "We're almost there, Hosh. Look at that park over there, aren't those purple trees beautiful?" In fact, all of the city was gorgeous, great glass buildings sprouting from the ground in an almost haphazard pattern, connected by meandering dirt pathways and rolling hills of grass.

"Perhaps you should concentrate on piloting this craft rather than observing the flora." T'Pol chided, though he could tell there was a hint of playfulness behind her harsh words. Whether or not it was T'Pol's original intent, the comment managed to get Hoshi's mind off the tricky landing Trip subsequently executed on the small shuttle pad nestled between two rather large buildings because she barely stifled a giggle.

Trip initiated the cool down procedures then jumped out of the shuttlepod, helping the two women down the steep stone stairway leading from the landing pad to where their hosts waited. The Anatman were remarkably close to humans in appearance, except for a slightly green tinge to their skin and the brilliant forest green of their long flowing hair. Their fingers were twig-like and graceful as they raised them in a greeting, a gesture which the landing party was quick to return. Their turquoise eyes were wide and inviting, and from the emotions Trip saw play there he deduced that they wouldn't be the stubbornly heartless hypocrites the Vulcans managed to be in their pacifism.

The leader stepped forward, smiling a warm but closed mouth smile. She wore a dress of layered silk that folded around her like petals of a flower and a crown of intertwined strands of a bamboo-like plant. "I am the one called Mita, nominated by the individuals of this colony to facilitate our interactions with ones not from this place. These ones are Evi, of the Mechanic family and Cen, curator of our central museum and linguistics expert."

T'Pol stepped forward, "I am Sub-Commander T'Pol of the starship Enterprise. Allow me to introduce our chief engineer, Commander Tucker and communications officer, Ensign Sato."

Mita nodded simply, long neck twisting to gaze up each of the landing party in turn. Trip wasn't sure about these people. They seemed to possess the same underlying current of sinple efficiency that he often saw in T'Pol, yet they were able to smile, and clearly express their emotions.

In fact, his fellow engineer was smiling brightly at him. He appeared rather young by human standards, probably just over twenty. Then again, Trip reminded himself, he was already working at Starfleet R&D when he turned twenty. In fact, he could already see a lot of his young self in this man: the way he smiled enthusiastically with just a hint of self consciousness, the way he fidgeted nervously during formal introductions, the fleeting but strong grip of his handshake, the questions in his eyes as he looked Trip over from head to foot, seemingly finding and examining every nook and cranny.

Evi's shoulder length green hair was tied back into a ponytail that jutted out from behind the nape of his neck, and his light brown suede tunic was splattered with grease stains in places. Trip smiled at this, thinking of how no matter what the culture, there were some constants among the engineers. Like he always said, machines were the universal language.

Evi frowned. His smooth jaw was set in such a way that revealed a certain stubbornness, and his emerald green brows were thick and squinting as he seemed to ponder his choice of words. His pale green features were frank, betraying an inner struggle that Trip was sure was between need for protocol and desire to speak his mind. He thought of crisp warm air rising to meet fresh cool to form a storm. "This one must apologize, Commander, but we really should get to work. We would be happy to take you on the grand tour later, it's just that we have more pressing issues dealing with the repair of the shield generators."

"Don't worry about it. The first place I like to go on any tour is the machines, anyways." As fascinating as this passive society could be, Trip's primary attraction would always be the technology. Evi's features brightened at the grin on Trip's face.

"If you would excuse these two, Mita, Sub-commander,"

Both women nodded curtly, though Mita showed her gratitude and perhaps relief with smiling eyes. Evi took Trip's hand in his, the cool waxy quality of his skin oddly comforting. He led Trip away from the group, through the twisted elegance of the buildings, glass blown lazily through a maze of support beams, people moving within completely visible to the naked eye. Even the floors appeared to be made of glass, the shadows cast by those walking through the upper floors appearing ghostlike on those that moved bellow them.

Dusk was beginning to settle in an amber haze, golden light reflecting off every metal structure and falling against the calm blue of the shield. Evi pulled him across the short green grass of the park to the only building in the whole place that was not completely see-through. It was a huge dome, seemingly made entirely out of black tiles. As far a Trip could see, there wasn't even a door into it.

Evi turned around to grin conspiratorially, "That's our shield generator. Those black panels are solar collectors. The rest of the buildings in the colony use a clear material that allows sunlight to pass through to those inside, while collecting enough to power our computer systems."

Trip couldn't hide the look of dismay on his face, "Your entire colony is powered by solar energy?" There was a brief flirtation with solar on Earth, but they still relied mostly on dilithium and hydroelectric generators to power most of their society. Solar technology just wasn't efficient enough to provide the amount of power necessary, and there hadn't been the advent of an effective transparent panel yet.

Evi laughed, an effervescent melodic chuckle, seeing the look of dismay on his companion's face. Trip was instantly reminded of a field of sunflowers waving beneath a fresh blue sky. "Unfortunately, the generation of a shield powerful enough to protect a colony of this size is beyond our solar technology, even with two suns. The dome is built on top of a geothermal vent, which provides about half of the necessary power."

Trip was still amazed at the efficiency of what were considered 'clean' energy systems. If they could acquire any of this technology for use on Earth, they could virtually eliminate polluting sources of energy.

Evi caught his slight smile, "We would be happy to share schematics for our solar technology. You are doing us a great service, after all."

It was Trip's turn to laugh, "And what could a lowly human such as I possibly do for you? You seem to have everything worked out."

"Far from it," he sighed, reaching the opalescent black surface of the dome, holding his hand to a part completely indistinguishable from the rest. "You see, we didn't develop this technology to this degree because we suddenly decided to favor it. Our society has never been anything but solar powered. Our ships use the gravitational eddies of the expanse for travel, with large solar sails to catch the light from stars and boost power, giving us a huge advantage inside the Expanse but no understanding of how most warp capable species generate power."

"As a pacifist and relatively isolationist culture, we would have little need for a different kind of energy. Unfortunately, the thermal vent from which the shield extracts most of its energy is cooling. Ordinarily we would be able to construct a new generator on another thermal source, in which this planet is rich. The ever-increasing frequency of Xindi attacks, however, makes this impossible. We have been trying to incorporate what you seem to consider 'conventional' energy sources into our shield generation systems."

"This one has worked with energy flow and power generation for a lifetime, but this is an entirely new world. We have managed to procure some dilithium and inject it into our system, but it has yet to prove effective. We decided that it would be wise to enlist outside expertise. In short, a lowly human such as yourself could do a lot for us." Evi's smile betrayed the formality of his words. He could almost smell the dawn air as a hint of sunlight peaked over the horizon.

With that, a panel of the black dome slid open to reveal a long corridor, glowing from every translucent wall, light following them as they passed through. Evi seemed to slow his pace once they entered, his tone beginning to tire. "We have to employ an internal lighting system within the dome, much as we do on our starships. It takes some getting used to, though I imagine you employ the same on your ship."

"At night on our planet too."

Evi turned to face him, eyes alight in wonder. He thought of the sun cascading through the branches of light pine tree to anoint the virgin wonder of a babbling brook. "But when do you sleep?"

"Well, we turn the lights off when we want to sleep, though a lot of people work at night. We've twelve hours of darkness and twelve of sunlight,"

"So you do not live in the cycle of the sun?"

"No. Humans only need between 4 and 10 hours of sleep."

"We do not require a specific amount of time to sleep, we simply follow the patterns of light and darkness. You could be of even more use. It is approaching first sunset and this one will grow tired. We must get started." He clenched his jaw in determination and quickened his pace. Trip had to jog to catch up, "Forgive my enthusiasm, Commander."

"Call me Trip, all my friends do." Trip couldn't help but like Evi. While he seemed overly formal, Trip knew this was just nerves. He enjoyed the anxious wonder and the open dialogue they had begun in the first few minutes since their meeting. They both obviously shared a boundless enthusiasm for machines and cross-cultural exploration. He hoped it would develop into an honest friendship. God knows he could use it: a first contact that didn't end in a firefight or a death or a deception.

Trip couldn't see Evi's smile because he lagged slightly behind, but somehow he knew it was there. He thought of the boundless joy of new snow. "Sorry, Trip. It's just that this one has never encountered an outsider before. While we are a friendly people, this is a small colony in the middle of hostile territory. There are few species here with whom we desire to forge friendships, and when we do, Mita generally tends to them privately. That one does not require the services of a simple mechanic to attend to duties."

"I guess the same could be said about us. I only get out as much as I do because I'm third in command. Being friends with the captain doesn't hurt either." He chuckled. Yeah, Jon indulged him far too often, or at least he used to. There didn't seem to be much fun and games anymore, though he did get to ride a horse not that long ago, with T'Pol of all people. That had to count for something.

"Third in command?"

"Don't you have a command structure?" Evi shook his head, "The captain is the highest ranking on board, then the sub-Commander, than myself. Then are a bunch of lieutenants below us."

"So you are part of the leadership family?"

Trip frowned; perhaps the UT wasn't working so well. "I was trained in command if that's what you mean. I'm an engineer first and foremost."

"So you were raised by two families?"

"No, I was raised by my parents. My mother was a secretary and my father built buildings. I decided to be an Engineer for Starfleet, and with it came ranks."

"We do not have a hierarchy." Evi replied simply. Trip was astounded at the lack of judgment in his tone. Even when Trip tried his hardest he couldn't help but make judgments on other cultures. He was perfectly willing to tolerate them as part of their way of life, but he had to compare them to his own. Wasn't that just how the human mind worked?

"Isn't Mita your leader?" He asked, still uncomprehending.

"She was raised to be a diplomat, and chosen to represent our people to other worlds. She knows the histories and languages of many cultures and their politics, but she does not know how to check the power flow on a generator or replace a solar panel. All decisions that do not require specialized knowledge are decided by referendum."

"You were raised to be a mechanic?"

"We are trained from a young age, when we first demonstrate our preferences and skills, to do very specific jobs. This one was skilled a fixing things and thus was adopted by the mechanic family."

For such a laid back people, this seemed like a very rigid system. He thought of the caste system in historical India and shuddered. "Are people ever placed with the wrong family?"

"Those who have a capacity for literature or social service or history are not placed so specifically, but those of us in the Mechanic family could hope for nothing else." Trip remembered his own childhood, smiling nostalgically. He would fix and or take apart anything he could get his hands on. His parents hoped for architecture, but everyone knew that he would only ever be satisfied as an engineer. He supposed he could see how a system like this could work.

"I can see that you were once the same." Evi grinned, eyes bright, making Trip wonder how he could possibly read him so well. But then again, they seemed to have an awful lot in common.

This amicable chatting had so distracted him that he barely noticed when they reached the end of the corridor. Evi again pressed his hand to the surface before him, which opened up into a great dome, translucent walls revealing a nerve like maze of what appeared to be pipelines. Upon closer inspection he could see the bright blue liquid flowing through them, glowing and pulsing in a way that made the room seem alive, the beating heart of the colony. In the center a glowing cylinder grew from floor to ceiling a like a tree, thicker veins swirling around its length.

Evi's eyes seemed to droop in the eerie blue glow, their teal depths shining stronger and more elusive than ever. "This is the main generator room. The blue liquid is an ionic compound designed to remain liquid and absorb energy from the solar panels. It filters through the main chamber where excess energy is stored. The dome around it generates the shield by taking energy directly from the liquid. Come, I will show you the schematics."

Trip couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. This place was both beautiful and amazing, not to mention completely new to him.

He felt Evi's light tug on his arm as he marveled at the sights around him. For some reason, the touch was not invasive, even though they had just met. There was even a calming quality to it.

"This one grows tired in the dim light of this place. We must retire to the control room."

Trip gave him a distracted smile as he ran his fingers along a capillary in the wall, feeling it pulse beneath his fingers.

"Be careful, I have read that dilithium exposure can be harmful to both our species."

Trip removed his hand and stepped back abruptly, whirling to face Evi, "You injected the dilithium directly into the system?" He squeaked.

"That is how the shielding technology works. We had no choice."

"Do you know how risky that is?" He practically shouted. A single leak could poison the entire complex! With the dilithium spread out there was a huge increase in the chance of leaks.

"Do not worry, we have installed adequate shielding already. The liquid was already quite dangerous to the Anatman before we injected the dilithium." Evi waved his hand sleepily. Even though he was dismissing what Trip saw as very valid concerns, he had a baleful gleam in his eyes, showing that he took Trip seriously but was unable to change the situation. "Please, come to the control room. Perhaps with your help we can solve this problem." He offered a hopeful smile, before again taking Trip's hand and pulling him from the fascinating blue light, deadly and serene as the moonlight. As they stepped into the light Trip thought of morning glories turning their faces to the sun after a dreary night.

CHAPTER 3

"So you make your entire career deciphering languages?" Cen enquired, turning his entire attention to Hoshi as they ambled along a thickly caked dirt pathway, his shoeless feet leaving tiny craters in his wake.

"Well, Enterprise's original mission was exploration. That required at least a full time linguist, especially because humans are relatively new to space exploration."

"You are obviously still as important. We have a saying here, 'sadhitat lairitat ze rahitat.' I'm sure it's not nearly lyrical in translation, but it means, 'Clear speech is one's best weapon.' We believe it is the reason why the Anatman have lived millennia without war." She felt his comfort in more than words, memories of downy soft quilts and cozy libraries flooding her mind. "Language is an important part of our reality, in fact some say that it shapes it. It is like the winter wind of the Talaron Mountains, the sweet decay of the Satran Sea, the melodic whoop of the Konapa bird so far from our homeland. It reminds us who we are. We are deeply honored that you should choose to learn our speech and thus our world."

Hoshi drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes and taking in the poetry of his words. She could almost smell the sweet algae blooms of an alien sea and taste the fresh wind blowing over the icy peaks of towering mountains to skip joyously over the fertile plain. "Will you say that again for me without the translator?" She smiled at him, blushing slightly, yet unrepentant in her thirst for words.

"Of course." The delicate smile on his weather worn lips and the way his eyes closed just slightly as he leaned forward to whisper melodic alien words in her delicate ears thrilled her to the core. She could not only see the scene now, but feel his joy at purely speaking. It was like a shaft of morning sunlight creeping through the window to announce the dawn.

"You language is so beautiful." She breathed, eyes glittering in wonder, "It conveys more than words."

He chuckled lightly, patting her arm, bringing the image of light dappling an old oak tree to the front of her mind. "I agree. Though I must confess, our language IS more than words."

"Excuse me?" She turned to face him, enraptured. The little she knew of the Anatman culture was so rich! She could spend years studying these amazing people. In fact, under different circumstances, she might even consider a leave of absence. Everything from the flowing kaleidoscope of their architecture to the deep melodies of their language fascinated her.

He again laughed at the look of pure wonder on her face, "Ah, the passion of the young. This one would like to paint a picture of that look. Close your eyes, Ensign."

She obeyed, muscles straining in anticipation.

"Relax, I'm not going to bite!"

She flushed crimson. She really did trust him, though. "I'm just excited."

"Relax, and tell me what this one thinks."

She closed her eyes, images forming instantaneously before her inner eye. The first thing that came to mind was the natural but baroque beauty of the jungle, so much life cramped together in one place. So much motion before her still eye as lifetimes seemed to pass as she watched fascinated; then, the musk of a dusty attic, where she used to dress up in her mother's old clothes; finally, the fall of snow in a cabin in the Rockies, making everything new and beautiful.

"How did you..."

"Answer my question"

"You are remembering places I've been."

"No, you are remembering where you've been. What is the sentiment?"

Hoshi searched her mind, what did these images have in common? The first was from her time teaching in South America, the first time she felt the earth as truly living and marveled at it; the second, her childhood, wishing she were grown up; and the last, a ski holiday with her ex-boyfriend from the academy, when they sat watching a winter storm make everything new. They were all memories about living life, the passage of time. "You were feeling nostalgic?"

His grin was like the brilliant green of newly cut grass. "A true linguist!"

"Are you telepathic?"

He shook his head, tight wrinkled face expanding into another deeply amused chuckle, "As though this one would be so clever! No, masai, we are a much simpler people."

"Masai?"

"It means fellow student." She smiled at this. He was so obviously older and wiser than she, yet he gave her the honor of treating her as an equal.

"I can't help but think that I am the student and you are the teacher. You have so many wonderful things to show me."

"'Ze zait terit nizait.' One is never too old for learning. Now as this one was about to say, masai, you are using your sense of smell to pick up fragrances the Anatman emit."

"Oh! That makes sense! In humans, smell is closely linked to memory."

"For the Anatman, smells are tied to emotions. This one anticipated difficulty in interpreting the emotions of your people. While some of the more subtle meanings are unclear, your species is incredibly expressive. The tone of your voices and the arrangements alone seem to make up for it. This one has trouble with the subcommander, however. Does that one have other means to indicate emotion?"

"The subcommander is Vulcan. Vulcans do not believe in expressing their emotions. They practice to control them."

"Why?"

"They were once a viscerally emotional people, a society in turmoil. In order to overcome their violent nature, they turned to logic and began to suppress their emotions."

She could see...no smell...the languid sorrow of winter rain on the streets of San Francisco. Cen frowned. "Such a high price to pay for peace. This one respects the subcommander, but is heartbroken. So much missing from life. No happiness, no pain, no desire. It is as a bird without wings. But that one cannot feel it, never knowing how it is to fly. It is simply their way."

"I feel for T'Pol too, but sometimes she allows the subtlest of emotions to pass through. She is not without feeling. She is capable of deep caring and respect. I consider her my friend, even if friendship is 'illogical.'" Hoshi couldn't help but heave a sigh.

The wrinkles of his years seemed to deepen as Cen narrowed furrowed his brow in thought, tucking a wisp of light green hair behind his ear. Though his complexion was much darker than Evi's, Cen's hair had grown thin and light with age. He seemed to have a grandfatherly air about him, though Hoshi could not know how old he was in human years. His words were deep and melodic, but more songlike in their intonation than expressive. "This one does not see how logic and emotion are mutually exclusive, as long as we are not talking about completely irrational emotionality, which your species does not appear to exhibit."

"I don't either, and deep down I'm not sure she does, but there are images to maintain. I respect her and care about her and I believe she feels the same for me; that's all that matters, really. If it would hurt her to admit it's friendship, she doesn't need to acknowledge it. It's just a title anyway."

"Do you feel the same about the commander?"

"Yes." Hoshi blushed. She considered Trip her friend, and she wouldn't object to him being more. He had a natural charisma about him, a way of completely disarming her. And he certainly was attractive. Half the women on the ship and more than a few of the men were mooning after those baby blue eyes and golden locks. Still, sitting all day on the bridge with nothing to look at but the tranquil passing of stars on the view screen was starting to make even the captain look good, and he was like an uncle to her. Not that he wasn't attractive...She really needed to end this train of thought. No fantasizing about commanding officers allowed.

No thinking about Trip trying to save the ship in his underwear. No Jon running shirtless on the treadmill. Absolutely no images of them in decon, rubbing gel all over their bodies, each other's bodies... Wait, where did that come from? Her captain and his best friend making out in decon? She really needed to pull her mind out of the gutter. Unless they were more than friends...No, that couldn't be true. She had never seen any evidence to suggest... Despite the fact that it really did make sense... not to mention being really sexy...

"You seem in doubt."

Hoshi was shocked out of her thoughts. Why was she discussing her personal life on a diplomatic mission anyway? Oh well, Cen seemed interested. Embarrassed, she drastically overcompensated for her less-than-innocent thoughts about the commander, "No! I was just thinking. I respect him. He's truly brilliant at what he does and is a good person, but he gets along with everyone. Even though I'm a lot closer to him, I'm one among many. T'Pol might not do all of the typical friend things with me, but to have earned her friendship says nearly as much if not more than with Trip."

"Trip?"

"His nickname. Short for 'the third.'"

"The third what?"

"The third in the family named Charles Tucker."

"I see. Is 'he' a nickname as well?"

Hoshi frowned, was the UT not working correctly? "No, 'he' is a pronoun."

"I thought so. Though I am confused. If you consider your friendships with the commander and the subcommander to be equally valuable, why do you differentiate between the two when using pronouns?"

"Oh, we have two personal pronouns, one for each sex."

He did not sound judgmental, just puzzled. "Why would you differentiate people according to their reproductive organs?"

Good question. Even after gender inequality seemed to have evened out, they were still unable to shake the system. Though in her linguistics courses they had studied languages that used gendered nouns like French or Spanish, and determined that use of gender in language didn't seem to have an effect on gender issues among speakers. It was just tradition. She shrugged, "Men and women used to have very defined roles in our society. Knowing someone's gender was vital information and treating those of the opposite sex according to custom required polite differentiation. We don't really need them anymore. We're just used to it."

"So, one should refer to the subcommander and yourself as 'she' and the commander as 'he.' Correct?"

"Correct. "

"Fascinating. We have much to learn from each other, Ensign Sato."

"Please, call me Hoshi."

"Your nickname?"

"No, my first name."

"What does it mean?"

CHAPTER 4

Captain Jonathan Archer drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair impatiently, the memory of how preoccupied his chief engineer had been with improving that very chair bringing a slight smile to his face. It was that same engineer that had him fidgeting and counting the seconds at this very moment.

He tried to keep his voice calm and casual as he addressed the bridge crew, "How long since the time Commander Tucker was due to check-in?"

"About five minutes," Lieutenant Reed replied just as casually. Though without the effort, Jon assumed.

He ground his teeth in frustration. Trip had a tendency to get engrossed in engineering work and lose all track of time and/or reality. When this wholehearted dedication was helpful when it came to a particularly difficult problem, he thought it might one day be the death of him. He felt the panic rising deep in his stomach. There had been too many close calls, too many visits to sickbay, too many accidents. He even hesitated, if only for a split second, when he had to send Trip on away missions. He was just too damn...what could he call it? Situation-prone. Or disaster-prone?

Jon would feel better if he were there to keep Trip out of trouble. Though that hadn't really done them a lot of good before. Why did T'Pol have to insist that she would be a better representative to the passive Anatman? It wasn't as though he was some sort of loose cannon, an uncontrollable aggressor, a monster. Was he? Sure, he had been under a lot of stress, and wasn't particularly inclined to simply trust people, but then again, the dangerous ones always seemed harmless. Long gone were the days when he would naively stroll through this adventure of exploration with practically a red target on his back saying, 'Jonathan Archer of Earth, shoot here.' Not all species were peaceful and everyone had an ulterior motive. The Xindi had shown him what happened when you let your guard down, and he wasn't going to let that happen again. Better safe than sorry.

Then, why had he let Trip, and T'Pol and Hoshi, go down to the planet unguarded? Images of firefights, maimed bodies, large steel cages, and giant sea monsters, flashed through his mind. Hey, anything could happen out here, couldn't it?

He sighed. He couldn't protect Trip from everything, as much as he wanted to. He especially couldn't protect the engineer from himself. His overzealous curiosity and his tendency to leap before he looked, tended to get him in trouble. He had always admired the impulsive charisma and near instinctual morality that made Trip who he was, it just tended to get him into trouble out here. Still, Trip was his own man and perfectly capable of getting out of even the most exotic situations he seemed to put himself into. He was still standing, even when he really had no right to be after the number of times he had tempted fate.

But Jon couldn't just sit and tempt fate any longer. "Crewman, hail Commander Tucker." He ordered with a scowl.

"Yes, Sir."

He could hear his heart pounding in his veins, as he held his breath, these few seconds seeming like an eternity. What if something really had happened? He didn't think he could go on.

"Tucker, here. What can I do for ya, Cap'n?" His voice crackled over the comm., distorted, but still music to Jon's ears. He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, drinking in the familiar cadence of his friend's voice, like the first sip of water after a long trek through the desert.

He tried not to sound too relieved, or too neurotic, "You can start by checking in on time." Was that too stern?

"Sorry, Cap'n. I lost track of time. This technology is absolutely fascinating. It's based almost entirely on solar technology. Evi is showing me how they create a field directly from a current-carrying solution..."

"Evi?" First name basis after only half a day, he was impressed. Then again, this was Trip. He could draw anyone out of their shell. He had drawn Jon out in more ways that he could ever know. He had pulled him out of his single-minded determination to achieve, from an obsession with the inner Starfleet politic and had revived in him the need to follow his father's dream, of exploration not of completion. Perhaps he needed Trip now more than ever, to draw him out of a similar dark obsession.

"The Anatman head mechanic. He's offered to share the schematics with me, though I think I'm beginning to get a good idea of how these shields woek. I'm going to need some supplies from the ship to fix their problems. It seems that by trying to increase their output with conventional energy sources they've done more harm than good. If you could beam down some grade-3 titanium..."

Jon let Trip's supply requests float by unheard. His attention focused on the joy evident in his words. He loved the honest excitement he could hear in every syllable. Even in his darkest days, the excitement in that voice could stir a lingering wonder in him, illuminating his world. The voice was struggling against the darkness now. But he didn't think it could win, not this time. He needed to know that even a world where a unknown species could kills thousands without a care, where they could send a single ship out here alone with only a feeble human captain and his moral compass to guide it, where his nerves could be stretched so thin that he could wake up days and look in the mirror without recognition, that there was still love, and perhaps still hope.

But that was never going to happen.

He was the first person to escape from the Klingon prison Rura Penthe; he could stand up to a group of armed Xindi reptilians; he had gone against a Suliban in hand to hand combat; he had commanded a starship in battle more times than he could count; but he couldn't drum up the courage to tell his best friend how he felt about him. How pathetic! He cursed himself. Starship Captain Jonathan Archer reduced to a bumbling mass of desperation and fear by a happy go lucky engineer who was nothing less than oblivious to his inner strife. He resisted the urge to laugh at the irony. If Starfleet knew how weak he was, would they have put him in charge of this mission?

This was what real love was. It wasn't Romeo and Juliet dying in each other's arms or lovers pining away for each other over miles of physical separations, or poetry and walks on the beach. Love was the thing that could reduce brave men to shadows, and gut all of the happiness from an otherwise great life. Love was something that you could regret all your life. Love was that visceral pain in your chest when the object of your affection strolls casually by. He could not deny its power; in fact its crippling dominance was a thousand times deeper than he ever could have imagined, but he could still deny the need for fulfillment.

He had thought of telling him a thousand times over the years. But what would that accomplish? He was 100% certain that Trip wouldn't reciprocate, and 75% sure that it would spell the end of their friendship. Their friendship was so much more important than carrying this burden in silence. Trip was his oxygen, his blood, and so much a part of his soul that Jonathan Archer could not exist without him. He would be crippled, lost, and alone, without him. If silence was the price, he would gladly pay it.

"Cap'n?"

Okay, so maybe silence wasn't the best policy when your chief engineer was asking you to make a command decision. "Whatever you need, Trip. I trust you." I trust you with my life, my heart, my sanity, but never with the truth. "Archer out."

CHAPTER 5

"...so she bends over so that I can basically see straight down her shirt, and whispers something in Jon's ear. His eyes practically bulge out of his skull and he stands up so quickly that he spills his beer all over his lap. 'Come on Trip, we're getting out of here.' he says, throwing some money down on the table and yanking me out of my seat before I can apologize. It turns out she wanted to pay him so she could bear the child of the famous Captain Archer. I was so shocked I could only say, 'I honestly thought she was into me.'"

Evi chuckled from above him, where he was busy checking the power levels as Trip crouched under the console trying to slow the flow enough in the section to install an additional shunt. "So you are something like heroes on your own planet?"

"I wouldn't call us heroes, though that doesn't stop the hero worship, and the fanatics. Jon has to deal with the brunt of it, but as we're usually together off-duty I've had my fair share. It's funny, out here it seems as though we're just doing our job, trying to survive. It's hard to imagine that there are people out there who follow our every action, shrinks who try to analyze us, writers who weave us into history, and anonymous women who want to have our children, people for whom our lives are a vicarious adventure, not just a fact of life. Jon's good at the PR stuff, though. He's somehow able to both maintain our image back home, and lead us as though there wasn't an entire planet of people looking over his shoulder."

"You call him by his first name? This one thought that you preferred this thing called 'rank.'"

"God, I almost forgot that I'm on duty. I guess you just put me at ease, Evi." He flashed him a smile. He really did like this kid. He was just so easy to talk to. And his culture was nothing short of fascinating. "To me he's always been my best friend, Jon. I just get to call him Cap'n sometimes."

"But isn't that a problem with your, what did you call it...'command structure?'"

"Not really. From the day we met, Jon...the Cap'n, has outranked me. We set the boundaries early on. On duty, I'm just another officer serving under him. Not that being his best friend doesn't come in handy as third-in-command. It's always good to know what's on you CO's mind, if ya know what I mean."

"We are also encouraged to develop friendships with those with whom we work closely. It helps us to better understand duties outside our own, and further integrate the community."

Trip chuckled, "I wouldn't go so far as to say it's encouraged. I had to fight tooth and nail to make sure that everyone knew I was chosen for this mission because I've got the skills, not because I'm friends with the Cap'n."

"Why would people think that?"

"Because people aren't always honest, and they are rarely trusting enough to take things at face value."

Evi's disappointment was like a storm forming on the horizon, birds gathering on the spares branches of leafless trees and an icy wind blowing through to the bone. "It is sad that they don't. While this one knows little of your kind, your skills as a mechanic are remarkable."

Trip ginned, noticing how the landscape of Evi's emotions seemed to brighten as a result. "Thanks. I can definitely say the same about you. I think this is good, are you ready to start siphoning off some of the dilithium?"

Evi nodded, smile like the sunrise, as he pulled Trip to his feet. There was something soothing in his touch, magnetic almost. Trip didn't want to let go, lest he loose this momentary feeling of contentment. It was a disarming trust, an intimate sharing, some sort of physical indication that the man before him had nothing to hide.

Trip met those sparkling teal eyes and saw of a flash of something there, like the first inward chuckle of an inside joke. He felt suddenly enveloped in images: the scent of cinnamon in a grand open market bazaar on vacation in India; the fresh grass stains on his girlfriend's white dress after they made love on the soft ground near a secluded picnic spot; Natalie's favorite perfume fresh on his sheets; the bouquet of red roses he presented to his first girlfriend when she played the lead in their high school play; scented candles lighted around a bed of silken sheets.

He stepped back, suddenly aware of their proximity and his unexpected arousal. He looked down, embarrassed. If Evi noticed he didn't show it. Only a look of innocent concern appeared on his face. "Are you alright, Trip? Perhaps you have spent too much time in the dark under that console. Let us catch the last of the sun before the second night. This night is much longer, and you worked through the last. Shouldn't you rest?"

Trip sighed, partially in relief, and partially in resignation, "I don't need light, Evi, but I could do with a bit of fresh air." Evi was right--he was just tired. Some smell in the recycled air in here probably reminded him of women's perfume. "I've told you a lot about me, including some embarrassing stories that I'm not sure the cap'n would be happy to know you've heard. Now it's your turn."

"There is one like your Jon, but that one is currently involved in a scouting expedition on the southern continent. When they return in a few days you will be able to meet. You would like that one. Both of you are similarly outgoing and seem to have an equal penchant for trouble."

"Hey, I don't have a penchant for trouble!"

Evi ignored him, "Perhaps this one should ask your captain about that statement."

"I really shouldn't have told you so much about myself." Trip crossed his arms across his chest in mock petulance.

"Besides, this one and Anet have had many similar experiences. We once followed several very attractive individuals into the geothermal spring in the mountains, only to be left without our clothes in front of a security patrol."

Trip laughed. Some things truly were universal, it seemed. "Reminds me of the time Malcolm and I got robbed and tied up in a basement in our underwear for two days."

"How did you get out?"

"We found our own way out, though we never did find our clothes. You?"

"Our families picked us up from the patrol station."

"Ouch. I take it they weren't too happy."

"Actually, they took it as a sign that we had become lovers, a myth we have been trying to dispel for years with little success. Despite the fact that Anet is very beautiful and that we know each other better than anyone, this one could never even consider it."

"So she's like a sister to ya?"

"Something like that. In fact, we were practically raised together, the science and mechanic families being rather close."

They stepped out into the red haze of the setting sun, purple clouds reflecting off the fathomless black of the dome as perfectly as the mountains off of a motionless crystal spring. Trip felt a slight chill as the evening wind blew across him, compelling waves of soft blades of grass to motion, as Evi led him over a slight crest onto a grassy slope, protected from the wind and facing the distant mountains where the sun would lay itself to rest. "God, this place is beautiful."

"You should see Anatman," Evi remarked with the timeless sorrow of a hidden mountain grotto.

Trip frowned at the emotion in the air, "Why don't you live there?"

"Too many people cast far too much shadow. Not all the Anatman can remain at home. Sometimes this one wonders about life there, but this one has everything necessary for existence right here. It is not where you are but what you do," Evi met Trip's eyes as he lowered himself to the sweet bed of grass beneath them, holding him spellbound, "and with whom you do it."

Trip let out a blissful sigh. He felt almost as relaxed as sitting next to his engine listening to it purr or lying on the back porch in a hammock drinking lemonade and eating his mother's homemade catfish. "We humans say, 'home is where the heart is.'" He murmured.

Evi nodded slowly, eyes drooping like rose petals in a fall rain, "This one grows tired."

Trip lay back next to him, watching the sunset beyond the distant peaks in silence, letting the peace of this place wash over him in gentle waves, breathing it in from the very air, smelling suddenly of eucalyptus and peppermint. He stole glances at Evi every once and a while, amazed by the glowing translucency of his skin in the moonlight, the way it softened his young features until they too melted into this river of overwhelming calm that was simple existence. Trip didn't even notice the transition from reality to the world of sleep as he slipped into dreams of sleeping beneath the stars cocooned in strong but comforting arms, the familiar scent of hazelnut and cinnamon wafting through the still air to entrance him.

CHAPTER 6

He was floating in an ocean of color, bodiless, warm, and safe. He could hear the soft murmur of a comfortable baritone, too low for him to make out the words, in his cocoon of bliss. Unlike most dreams, there was no reality here, no snippets of subconscious, no attempt at plot. It was pure sensation: the only concrete in this abstract reality was the seductive scent of hazelnut and cinnamon. His soul heaved a contented sigh.

Then everything changed. The intriguing spectrum of colors that seemed to melt through and around and between each other, outside the laws of dimensionality, all flashed a deep pulsing red. And a panicked voice brought images of flashing lights and sirens to mind even miles from earth. "Tactical alert." A familiar yet somehow distorted voice reminded him, jolting him from his sleep straight to his feet.

He stumbled, as he looked frantically around. There was no tactical alert on this grassy knoll with the last of the sunrise fading. "What the hell?" He cursed, in grumpy confusion.

That's when he notices a giggling communications officer a few feet away from him. Now that he was awake, she was already trying in vain to escape from him, despite her uncontrollable laughter. "Hoshi, you are going to pay for that!" He yelled playfully, making a grab for her and tickling her until she collapsed on the grass and begged for mercy. He supposed it was a little silly of him. He just couldn't help it, the grass and the bright sky brought out the child in him, or was it the Anatman themselves?

"Please, Trip! I couldn't resist. You...you wouldn't want to torture the person who's got your breakfast, would you?"

He let her up. Satisfied by the grass stains on her bright blue uniform. "Breakfast?" His stomach betrayed him with a loud rumble.

"Chef's finest. We had the captain beam it down special delivery when T'Pol found out that the Anatman idea of a meal is sinking their toes into a juicy bit of dirt." She grinned at Cen, who was holding a bag in his hands. Hoshi had obviously anticipated some sort of violent reaction to her prank.

"What is it?"

"Eggs, bacon, and pancakes, I think."

"I guess I'll have to forgive you then. Though I have to say that you do a frightening Malcolm impression."

"The culminating moment of my linguistics career," she joked, giving him a poke to the ribs when he grabbed the breakfast out of her hands as she passed it to him.

"Hey! First you interrupt my beauty sleep and bribe me with breakfast then you try to bruise my ribs?"

"All in a day's work." She grinned playfully, brushing herself off one last time. "Though, I'm afraid Cen and I have a date with some librarians, so I've got to run."

"You're leaving me to eat breakfast alone, Hosh?" He pouted, feeling slightly self-conscious about being the only one eating. One glance at Evi, who was sitting above them at the top of the hill, feet half buried in the soil, dispelled his fears. Evi just smiled and gestured to the space beside him in welcome.

Hoshi patted him on the arm, "I'm sure you'll manage. See you later."

"Have fun." He called after her with a distracted wave as he made his way over to Evi.

"So, have you ever seen a person eat?" Trip asked innocently as he settled down beside him.

"This one has never seen one put nutrients in the place from which that one speaks, though I am eating now." He motioned to his feet.

"How is it?"

"Rich. This is one of my favorite plots."

"Can you taste it?"

"Probably not in a way you could understand, anymore than this one can understand your perception of taste." He indicated the scrambled eggs that Trip was busy shoveling into his mouth. "Though this one suspects that we have a sensation similar to your taste in our skin. It allows us to detect the chemicals other beings release."

"So if I touch you, you taste me?" Trip asked, between bites.

Evi nodded. Trip couldn't help himself, he reached out and laid his hand across Evi's cheek; amazed how soft and smooth it felt beneath his fingers. Evi closed his radiant teal eyes, a smile creeping onto his lips. Trip was both thrilled and a little frightened by the intensity of the moment. All of his consciousness was drawn to the tips of his fingers, as he tried to imagine what Evi tasted like. He was overwhelmed by images yet again. Daffodils, popcorn and a good romantic comedy, bubble baths, all flashed on his inward eye. It was too much. What this real? Or was it like that pebble thing with Ah'len. If it was, it couldn't be good.

He pulled back a little too quickly, judging by the startled near-hurt in Evi's eyes. "This isn't... um...indecent...or going to have consequences I might not anticipate, tasting me like this, is it?"

Evi took in the wary tone and laughed, sending the fear flooding from Trip in a bout of reciprocal laughter. "A touch is a touch, between Suti."

"Suti?" A slight knot of worry reappeared in his stomach.

"Umm...I am no linguist, but I believe it means, 'those getting to know each other better.'"

"Oh, so touch helps you get to know a person."

"It helps if you can recognize their unique chemicals, it makes it easier to understand them."

Trip wasn't exactly sure about the biology of that, but he was an engineer not a scientist, so he shrugged. "Last time I thought something that intense was just touching I ended up pregnant. I just got make sure, ya know."

"I did not realize that you were of the child bearing population. How is your child?"

"I don't know," Trip said sadly, focusing intently on cutting his pancakes. As much as he originally hated her, he found that he sometimes stayed up late wondering what had become of the fetus he had incubated for such a short time. Was she at all affected by her time inside a human? He heaved a sad sigh. He might not have anticipated it, but he would have gladly raised her as his own. "I was never meant to have the child. Hell, I'm the first human male to ever get knocked up. We tracked down the mother and she transferred the baby to another host."

"I'm sorry." Evi laid a sympathetic hand on Trip's and he could almost feel the pain seeping out of him, soothed by tactile whispers and comforting as a summer's breeze flowing through the humid turmoil of his emotions.

Trip looked down at the pale green fingers entwined in his own. "So, how do I taste?"

"Surprisingly good, for an alien." Evi remarked teasingly.

"Better than the dirt?"

"Of course," he grinned easily, making Trip wonder why he took that for granted. Though in the silence that followed Evi's features melted into a pensive frown as he released his hand. Trip found the lack of contact oddly empty. "Why are you concerned about touch? Does it mean something in your culture?"

"Not touch in and of itself, though there are certain ways to touch, and places to touch that definitely indicate different types of relationships."

"The same is true in our culture, though it is probably much different."

"How so?"

"Well, the way you were touching Ensign Sato," Evi averted his eyes, in what Trip might have thought was a blush if he were human, "that would not be the way two colleagues touch. It would be an invitation for a romantic union."

"Oh. I guess it could be read that way by some in my culture. But Hoshi and I are both friends and colleagues." At Evi's expectant look he continued, "Just friends."

"You do not have romantic intentions toward that one?"

"Hoshi? Naw. She's cute and smart and a really great friend, but she's under my command, so I couldn't even begin to think about her in that way."

"So your command structure prohibits you from forming relationships with those below you?"

"Not really. I just don't think it's appropriate, when I have to do crew evaluations and such. Hoshi's three ranks below me, which people might see as abuse. And everyone on my engineering crew's definitely out. That doesn't leave a lot of options, and the ones it does leave aren't particularly appealing. Though I suppose if I were head over heals in love with a lieutenant and it didn't interfere with our duties I would risk it."

Evi smiled brightly, with an expression Trip couldn't quite read. "You don't make it easy for yourself, do you?"

"Well I'm out here to explore other cultures not other members of the crew."

Evi's grinned widened. "What about Sub-commander T'Pol, that one is of another culture?"

"Me and T'Pol?! I can deal with T'Pol as a friend and confidant, but she's not really my type. Great body, amazing brains, but I need passion and humor and romance and desire in a relationship. T'Pol's got those buried deep down somewhere, but revealing them in the way I need would be too much for her. To tell ya the truth, it would probably break her. I could never do that."

"And you have no one back home?"

"Nope. My last girlfriend broke up with me via subspace communiqu. What about you?"

"I have a sequat," again, Evi looked away as though in shame, adding hastily, "but that one and I have not seen much of each other since the generator has been having problems."

Trip chuckled. "I hear ya. I've had many a girlfriend accuse me of loving my engines more than I love them. My parents have even said that a couple of times. The only one who hasn't is Jon, but it's his job to make sure I'm in love with the ship, so he can't complain."

"Speaking of engines, we should probably get back to work." Evi gave him an apologetic sigh, carefully removing himself from the ground, where Trip could just see thin tentacles returning to the soles of his shoeless feet. He carefully re-covered the area he had planted himself in with the small pile of excess dirt that had been sitting on his other side, and gave a quick bow with a mumbled prayer.

Trip watched, transfixed by the brief but beautiful words, the sincerity in the voice. "Come," Evi extended his hand, and Trip felt a vague sense of calm settle over him once again, images of childhood games and the summer sun floating through his mind as they strolled in amiable silence back to the artificial light of the dome.

CHAPTER 7

T'Pol sat outside on the soft cushion of the grass, meditating. She found that she did not need the steady flame of candlelight here in this place. A small stream ran through what seemed to be the town center, and listening to its quiet melody was enough to calm her. Like the flame, it was an order that emerged from chaos, thousands of molecules of water colliding and spiraling to form a delicate dance of sound that seemed to flow through her, cleansing away all of the turmoil of emotions without threatening the integrity of her unique if unexceptional persona.

She did not notice the dawn that seemed to creep up on her from the outskirts of consciousness, lightening the world and lifting her out of the dark sea of her troubled emotions.

She fought for control these days. She had thought that it was the captain's levity, his insatiable desire for the excitement of exploration, and his naivety which were the cause for her initial discomfort on the mission. Now she looked back on those days almost fondly. Yes, he had gained the focus, the attention to detail, the discipline, and the ability to see beyond the moment; All of which she had told him were lacking when they first met. But his detached focus had blended into irrational obsession somewhere along the way. Vulcans broke, lost their sanity in an emotional cascade so fierce that it was unmistakable insanity, as she had seen with the exposure to trellium-d. Humans, on the other hand, seemed to slip silently from themselves.

Captain Archer was still her commanding officer, and she still trusted him with her life, but she couldn't help but feel his control gradually deteriorating, seemingly rusting away. She did not know whether or not he would, 'loose it,' as Commander Tucker would say, but she did know that if there was no change, no jolt to halt his current progress, she was in grave danger of losing her friend, if not her captain.

And the commander? If she was being completely honest with herself she would have to admit that she feared for him. When she first saw how the death of his sister had taken the normally outspoken and jovial engineer and turned him into a walking ghost, dull eyed and teetering on the brink of a chasm of pain that she could not even begin to imagine, she had longed to comfort him. More amazing than this seemingly irrational emotional desire was the fact that she had actually been successful toward that end. He was sleeping, and even resuming their usual banter. She even allowed herself to hint that she enjoyed it every once and a while, though she would never let him know how valuable he had become to her. They all had, in a way. A lack of connection was difficult to maintain if all parties did not detach themselves equally. They cared so much about her that it was almost embarrassing. Perhaps it was inevitable that she care about them, at least a little.

Still, here on this peaceful planet beside a serenely quiet stream, basking in an alien sunrise, it was easy to forget. For a moment she could put down her burden, her duty to anchor the captain to his sanity and, ironically, his humanity and her need to protect the dying wonder that she saw in the commander in hopes that he not follow his best friend down the same dark path of self-destructive heroism.

Had circumstances been different, she might have been attracted by the tranquility of this place. In her youth she had found brief moments of peace in the stone temples carved into the vaulting red cliffs of Vulcan. She had even considered becoming a priestess at one time; the pull of the calm was so great. But duty, and perhaps fate, had called. T'Pol had always been a caregiver. She desired to help her people as much as possible and her skills did not lie in the ancient arts, but in science and diplomacy. Perhaps it was her tendency to quiet emotionality and sympathy that contributed to her skills in command and exploration.

She felt an overwhelming sympathy for the Anatman. They were of the same soul as she, more so than her own kind. They possessed the same values of peace and logic, but without the desire to deny and bury. Their emotions were subtle, gentle, but visible. They were natural and authentic, not rigid and uncompromising. Their compassion was caring, not logically altruistic, their curiosity genuine, not a thinly veiled ambition and their society simple, not tacitly political.

But she could not stay. As always, duty called to her. Sublimated to a soft whisper now, but still woven into even the easy babble of the brook.

She did not notice when Mita settled down beside her, though the soft hand laid comfortably on her shoulder did not startle her. It simply beckoned to her, calling her from her trance the way light pulled delicately at the haze of sleep. T'Pol opened her eyes slowly, welcoming the brilliant stain of the sunrise.

They sat in comfortable silence, before propriety urged T'Pol to enquire how her hostess had slept.

"The Anatman melt between days. We do not have what other species would call dreams."

"Vulcans dream only when we allow our emotions to control us. So we meditate to prevent it."

"This one would treasure the ability to dream. To be able to create so remarkably without intent seems a gift."

"If it were so simple, I would as well. Dreams, however, are born of the intent of the emotional body. Once it has fully invaded our subconscious during sleep, it is only a matter of time before it seeps into the conscious."

"It is easier to keep emotions from occurring then it is to keep them secret, it seems."

"Vulcans have many secrets." T'Pol admitted, though she had no idea why. Vulcans also had much pride; though they were loathe to admit it. Mita seemed to invoke a deep honesty in her, perhaps even beyond diplomacy.

"The Anatman have few," Mita remarked without judgment, "it is difficult when others are so easy to read."

"One day, I think our secrets will be our undoing. Saying you do not lie while bending the truth is much more dangerous than knowing there are lies and acting to protect yourself should the occur, as humans do."

"This one would have to respectfully disagree. Despite the obvious nature of most of their deceptions, their lies and their mistrust were the reason the Anatman left the Xindi council."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow in surprise, "The Anatman were once part of the Xindi council?"

"The ancient council, revived now after the war. Anatman is, or was, not actually a planet, but a large moon orbiting the Xindi home world. We developed technologically before the Xindi, and have watched them patiently, as they were transformed by the harsh nature of life in the Expanse. The Anatman have had much to do with the Xindi's development, this one fears."

"How so?"

"We were determined not to meddle in the affairs of the planet until the Xindi became aware of us, not wanting to startle them. When the Reptilians began a systematic genocide of the Insectoid, however, we could no longer stand by and do nothing. We hoped that the knowledge that they were not alone in the universe would show them how small their concerns of geopolitical dominance were in relation. We thought that they would be inspired by the majesty of the immensity of the universe. Instead, they saw only that they must unite against greater enemies, even more different than those around them. There technological development skyrocketed, and we were glad to assist them, without giving them technology without understanding."

"Vulcans have tried to maintain a similar relationship with humans, though at the rate they are advancing, I believe we may soon treat them as equals."

"The Xindi did become equals. The differences between the species provided with them with so many diverse perspectives that our intervention seemed only a catalyst. They have developed an entirely different technology from the Anatman, for we have focused our efforts on environmentally conscious solar equipment. The ecological destruction of the Xindi was one of the many factors that caused us to break with them. We fled and established a new homeworld before it destroyed their planet, along with the war resulting from the competition that allowed them to develop so quickly. We have had considerable trouble finding planets with enough light for our civilization. Our world for the past few generations, the new Anatman, is far too small for our population."

"Have the Anatman always be environmentally conscious? It seems unusual for most civilizations."

"We are so much a part of the environment that harming it would be the death of us. We depend on the sun and the air for energy, and the soil and the water for nutrients. If we were to disturb the delicate balance of our world, and the lower creatures, even the ones upon which we tread, how could we live?"

"So the Anatman are photosynthetic organisms? Evolved from plants?"

"Indeed. Though we reproduce in the same manner as what you would consider mammals."

T'Pol could not hide her fascination. She could clearly see how biology had so informed the Anatman way of life. They were not detached from their environment, and even came from a background of providing sustenance for other organisms as a way of reproduction and distribution. This would explain their lack of judgment and deep valuation of all pieces of a larger communal puzzle. It also explained their communal nature and lack of hierarchy. Even the strange chemical communication that Hoshi had related so excitedly earlier came from their origins.

Suddenly she had a multitude of questions floating through her mind. She wanted to know more about the Anatman culture, their physiology, their evolution. Yet duty called to her yet again, the captain's new desperate focus polluting her even here. "What else can you tell me about the Xindi?" She almost finished the sentence with a defeated sigh.

CHAPTER 8

"God damn it!" Trip cursed, snatching his hand from the new dilithium chamber he was currently in the process of assembling, as though it had bitten him. He'd suffered plenty of electrical burns, but that didn't make them hurt any less. Someone on his team was going to get a talking to for cross wiring this circuit. Then again, he probably should have made a trip back to Enterprise to direct the construction, instead of just sending up some design schematics. It was just that he didn't feel like leaving this amazing place. He was more than happy to spend his time dozing with Evi under the stars rather than cooped up on the ship overseeing construction his people should be able to do in their sleep. Perhaps doing it in their sleep was the problem. Who was he kidding? He was taking advantage of his time here and he knew it. He hadn't thought of Lizzie's death since he arrived here, for it seemed the whole universe was somehow present to comfort him, and he had slept easily and completely naturally for the first time in a long time.

Upon closer examination of the burn on his right hand, he decided that he should go get the first aid kit, or risk having another less-than pleasant lecture from Phlox about taking proper care of himself. Trip pushed himself up from his spot on the floor with a heavy sigh and walked toward the control room, slowing down at the sound of voices coming from the door.

"You never have time for this one!" He heard a woman's calm tones. The content of her words belied the unremarkable volume of her voice. Apparently, Evi's love of his machines was catching up with him. He shook his head in sympathy as the woman continued. "And now, you're obsessed with these visitors. It hurts that you didn't even take the time to tell this one where to find you at night." She sounded both defeated and angry.

"This one is sorry, Laer. Perhaps you can take solace in the fact that the hurt was never intentional." Evi's voice was equally level.

"So you're not going to deny it?"

"This one will take all of the blame, but do not ask for change." Now there was an argument he would never use in a fight with a girlfriend, that's for sure. Then again, Evi was young, he might not know that you always tell the woman you'll try to change or no sex for you. He should mention this to him.

"Oh, Evi! When are you going to stop dreaming of what you can't have? What we had was great, real. Life is passing you by while you toil away here."

"Someone must do it, Laer, and this one would gladly serve."

"Then this is the end."

Trip was shocked by the austere finality of her tone and how easily Evi gave in, "We will still be friends?"

"Of course." What a simple statement. And so honest. Trip wished that all of the girls who had said that to him had meant it. With that the door pushed open and a petite woman wearing a flowing white robe pushed past him. He could have sworn she was glaring at him out of those wide glistening eyes, but she must just be upset.

A twinge of pain in his hand reminded him why he had come in here in the first place, so he pushed through the door to a cloud of the most disgusting stink he had ever encountered. The room smelled like a combination of rotten eggs, skunk, and compost. Evi must have spilled something. He looked around, finding the silent green figure huddled in a corner, head in his hands.

Trip braved the hostile air to take a deep breath before he spoke, "Hey, it looks like you could use some good old sunlight." And some fresh air.

Evi just nodded, taking Trip's extended hand and pulling himself to his feet. Trip put a comforting arm around his shoulder and used it to guide him out of this foul-smelling room as soon as possible.

It was not until they were again settled on the grassy knoll beneath the sun that Evi spoke evenly. "Even when you know the end is coming, perhaps desire it, it still hurts." Trip could almost feel a numbing rain on his skin, even as the sun's warm kiss found every exposed pore.

"Hey, I know how you feel. But things can only get better, right? You'll find someone else."

Evi turned to face him, brilliant eyes dark with grief, "This one is not so sure. Work will always come first, because the colony needs it. This one does not know if there is one who would be willing to sit second to that. Perhaps this one is as Laer says, 'damaged property.'"

Trip couldn't help the slight grin that pulled at his features at the similarities to 'damaged goods,' and perhaps to the things he had thought about himself so many times. "You're not damaged, Evi. You're a wonderful man. You're brilliant and funny and utterly compassionate. You don't lie to yourself or to others. Hell, I've only known you a few days, and I can already call you a friend. Laer just doesn't know what she's missing. I wouldn't pass up a person like you just because they were dedicated to keeping others safe. It's part of what makes you great, not something you should ever feel ashamed of. If she can't see that, then she doesn't deserve you. As for Miss Right, she's out there waiting for you, Evi, you've just got to be patient. On Earth we say, 'good things come to those who wait.'"

Trip tried to give Evi his most encouraging grin, and found that it wasn't at all hard. He truly meant all of the things he said. Evi was a great guy, and young enough that he had plenty of time to find the right girl. Hell, he had even half convinced himself that he might find his own match in time.

"Thanks, Trip. Your opinion means a lot to this one." He could feel the brightening in Evi's mood in the very air around him. The sunlight was even more intense, and he could see the rainbows after the storm, the calm clarity of the first birdcall after a hurricane melting into a storm of a different sort. He could feel the wave of something other, something more passionate, building as Evi's hand reached out to grab his. It was as though they were the only two souls in the universe, drawn together by gravity alone. The smell of wildflowers was on the breeze, exotic spices and a heavy musk. Colors were intensifying until they were almost overwhelming.

Then the spell was broken as Evi's fingers enclosed on his own. "Ouch!' He couldn't help but gasp as the touch reminded him of his earlier encounter with that faulty circuitry.

Evi seemed to almost blush as he looked down and noticed the burn on his hand, "Sorry, Trip! This one was so wrapped up in the selfish pain of Laer's departure that your hurt went unnoticed."

Trip was about to protest when Evi scooped up his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his wrist. He didn't know whether to be wary or relieved. It at least took his mind off of the pain. "W...what was that for?" He stuttered awkwardly.

Evi managed to appear even more embarrassed, "Sorry. The Anatman heal with a kiss."

"Oh. Humans have a similar tradition, though it's normally only for children, or perhaps for lovers."

"This one must again apologize. Healing can be intimate, this one should have..."

"So you mean it actually heals?"

"Yes. We release a chemical through the skin."

"Oh, in humans we just do it for the psychological effect." He said with a shrug, "There's no need to keep apologizing, you're just trying to help."

"Still, this one should have asked permission to give you a kiss because we are not involved. Even a kiss on the hand..."

"Don't sweat it. Kisses on the hand are actually considered chivalrous in our culture, and I think it's working." In fact, the pain was almost entirely gone. He would have to mention this to Phlox. He might even want to try to add an Anatman to his little menagerie. He smiled at the idea of Evi sitting in sickbay waiting, like a great green frog, to kiss the injured into princesses. Oh wait, he was mixing his fairy tales. It was the princess that kissed the frog, not the other way around. "If you had kissed me on the lips, however, it would've been a completely different story." He continued, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"In your culture a kiss on the lips is a romantic invitation as well?" Evi asked.

"Yep, I guess some things are pretty universal." Trip said with a smile.

The scent of flowers and spices was almost overwhelming now. Trip had to fight against the passion it was arousing in him. He was just about to ask himself what the hell was going on, when he felt soft green lips pressed against his own.

He almost relaxed into it. Like a cool flame, it seemed to draw him in. He could almost forget everything else in the world -the Xindi, Enterprise, even the feel of the sun on the nape of his neck- in favor of the euphoria of those fragile lips. But he couldn't forget to whom the belonged. In a second, Trip was standing and backing away from where Evi sat on the grass, nothing but a questioning concern on his honest features. "Trip, this one is sorry. Are there some human rituals that must come before kissing? Is that not how humans kiss?"

Trip couldn't stop himself from trembling. He didn't know if it was in the wake of such passionate intensity or purely out of fear. "No, Evi. There's nothing like that."

Evi stood and reach for Trip, concern adding to the deep cloud of desire that was forming around them, "This one is sorry for surprising you, Trip."

Trip took a step back. He didn't realize...he must have been sending signals. He was fascinated, concerned, but never..."I'm not gay." Was all he could say, surprised by the vehemence of his own voice.

Suddenly this bright field was too confining, the blue sky threatening to fall down and trap him. He felt his breathing increase in overwhelming claustrophobia. He needed the serene emptiness of space; he needed to get out of here, preferably without causing a diplomatic incident. "Look," he gestured to his hand, "I've got to go back to the ship and get this looked at." He stumbled as he practically ran away, leaving Evi staring at him, both shocked and heartbroken. "You can start running tests on the primary filtration system, but watch out, there's some crossed wires in the secondary." He called over his shoulder, trying to maintain at least a modicum of professionalism when it took almost all of his concentration to stop himself from breaking into a run.

It was as though those lips lingered, even as he stumbled madly toward the shuttlecraft, wiping his lips raw on the rough material of his coverall. He felt dirty. He was straight. He would never...he didn't want to...but he had. He fought through the bog of perceptions, the heady melting of one sensation into another combined with these new feelings of disgust, and wondered: for a second had he kissed back?

CHAPTER 9

"The Anatman are a fascinating people, Captain." Hoshi's smiling image said from the viewer in the ready room. "They remind me of our original objective of exploration. It's easy to become so immersed in their culture! I can almost forget why we're out here now." She admitted with a sheepish smile.

As much as Jon liked to see the joy reappear after a long absence from Hoshi's face, he couldn't afford to have her forget their new mission statement. "I trust you haven't."

"Of course not, Captain. Cen has been helping me with the translational matrices for all of the Xindi languages. He is fluent in both Arboreal and Insectoid. It's been a pleasure getting to know him."

For a moment, Jon looked at the bright smile on Hoshi's face and forgot entirely about their mission. They might all be dead in the next few weeks, but now he could only remember the first time he saw Hoshi smile her intellectually-engrossed smile. He was teaching a course at the academy, and noticed that shy cadet that always sat in the front row, but never met his eyes. And then one day she raised her hand to ask him a question that simply astounded him and smiled an embarrassed ghost of that smile. He told her to come to his office after class to discuss it and they had been friends ever since. He had followed her career and helped her through the more physically demanding of her classes. He had even gone to her graduation. Hoshi was like an adopted daughter to him, and now, he had pushed her away with everyone else in his life.

He smiled indulgently, "Tell me about the Anatman."

He didn't think Hoshi's smile could be more beautiful, but she grinned wider, speaking a couple of light-years per minute, "I don't even know where to start. They have no hierarchies in their society: no racism, no sexism. Though I suppose this has to do with the fact the children are raised in a more communal fashion. They don't even make gender distinctions, not in their language or in their interaction. It's amazing, Captain. In all the languages and cultures I've studied I've never seen this. I mean, normally gender takes on significance due to the key role it plays in reproduction. It really makes you consider your worldview, you know?"

Jon nodded absently, lost in his own thoughts. A gender blind society? Such an entrancing ideal. He would like to not worry about his sexuality, not have to lie or hide it. Hell, he had even hid it from Hoshi, and she was like his daughter!

But Jon had lied from the start--from the first time he saw that look of utter discomfort on Trip's face when their friend Randy introduced them to his boyfriend. And he was lucky. There were so many times in the first months since they met that Jon had considered just kissing Trip. Hell, some of their outings definitely took on a date-like quality, at least from Jon's point of view. Jon just didn't want to rush things, with Trip just getting serious with Ruby. He wouldn't be the 'other man.' Still, he knew that they weren't going to last, and until that fatal moment he was almost positive that Trip Tucker would be his someday.

That first look of discomfort and Trip's subsequent bout of supposed nausea had broken Jon's heart. Randy and that Swedish fellow, whose name Jon had long since forgotten, were more surprised than insulted. Randy had just raised an eyebrow at Jon and asked, 'Didn't you ever get around to telling him how we met?' Jon could only shake his head. He didn't want to make Trip uncomfortable around Randy, knowing that they had once been lovers. In fact, he even had the audacity to think that it might make Trip think that he was unavailable!

Randy was the first man Jon had slept with. Before Randy, Jon had more than his fair share of girlfriends, and had noted a quiet attraction toward men. Approaching and bedding women was easy, where as he had no idea what to do with men. He was worse than a virgin, because he only succeeded in even imagining the act in vague and fuzzy images. And how did you figure out if a man even swung that way? Hell if he knew, and he certainly wasn't going to risk getting punched to find out. Women were safe, men were difficult, so he stuck to women.

That was before he met Randall Morrison. Jon was in a period of sexual frustration. He was bored with meaningless one night stands, but he hadn't met anyone he wanted to spend more than a couple of nights with, not that he really tried, spending hours upon hours in the simulators in hopes of winning that infamous test flight. And though he had never found him at all attractive or even particularly likeable, spending hours on end in a confined space with nothing to do but watch A.G. had him more and more curious about what it might be like to be with another man.

After eight hours locked up in a simulator, who could blame him for practically ogling a gorgeously tight ass displayed prominently for him in the locker-room at headquarters? Of course, that nice ass belonged to handsome a seven foot African who looked like he could easily pound Jon straight into the floor with his pinky. And when he turned, chocolate brown eyes staring fiercely into dazed green ones, Jon had only two thoughts, 'I wonder what a security officer is doing in the engineering complex locker room,' and 'I'm not going to live to see my father's engine fly.' When the man reached out his hand, Jon was sure it was to break his arm or something equally painful, so he closed his eyes.

'Randall Morrison, but you can call me Randy. And who might I ask has been fixing his lovely green eyes on my rear end?'

Jon was barely able to swallow the lump in his throat as he croaked, 'Jonathan Archer.'

Randy had only laughed at his nervousness, exposing a brilliantly white smile and sparkling eyes, putting Jon instantly at ease. 'Commander Archer, the mysterious pilot and heartthrob of practically the entire engineering division? It's an honor, Sir.'

Something about the way Randy said Sir sent all of his blood rushing directly to the nether regions, and he barely managed what he hoped was an encouraging, 'Call me Jon.' Only then did he realize that the extended arm was for shaking, so he took it.

Randy had a handshake that was both strong and sensual, and Jon practically melted into it. 'Well, Jon, would you allow me to take you out for a drink this evening?'

That night Jon learned that Randy was not, in fact, a security guard but a civilian chemist, working on fuel combination at Starfleet R&D. And once he got a couple of drinks in him, he also learned everything he would ever need to know, and then some, about dating men.

They got along great, but after getting down the basics, Jon realized that he was mostly Alpha, and that a relationship with Randy would be a constant power struggle. After a few weeks together they agreed that they would be better off as friends.

When Jon first introduced Trip to Randy it was a meeting of minds that left Jon excited, confused, bored out of his mind and absolutely terrified. Even as the son of an engineer who nearly became one himself, half of what they said was completely over his head. He wanted his best friend to get along with his prospective lover, but he never expected the kind of laid back yet deeply technical dialogue he would create. A couple of pitchers of beer and an army of paper napkins after they met, Trip and Randy had come up with preliminary schematics for an improved exhaust regulation system. Jon might have been jealous, but Randy assured him that he would not step on his toes, seeing, 'the way you seem to gaze at that gorgeous southerner.'

After a few weeks of sitting in the middle of technical orgies night after night doling out assurances of, 'of course you're not boring me,' and, 'this project is my dream too,' which Randy privately interpreted as 'I'll sit through anything if it means I get to stare at the sparkle in Trip's eyes when he gets excited,' things finally settled down. The three of them became inseparable. Drinking together, hiking together, watching football together (Jon was overruled on water polo nearly every time, and he took it, despite Randy's accusation that he was already, 'pussy whipped.')

Miraculously, the topic of sexuality never made an entrance, though Jon later believed that he scared Randy out of it by threatening to have him reassigned to a narcotics detection laboratory on some far off starbase if he made even the slightest move to play cupid and interfere with his relationship with Trip.

Things were going so well that Jon even allowed Randy to cajole him into a sort of double date with his newest, 'special-friend,' just to give him a push in the right direction. Randy, being handsome, intelligent, and extremely straightforward, was used to just waltzing into things, demanding that he get whom he wanted when he wanted them. He told Jon to 'stop beating around the bush and start sending out signals,' maybe starting with 'I'm-not-as-straight-as-I-might-seem-signals.'

Jon was all dressed up in his best outfit, tight faded jeans and a turquoise button down shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, hoping that since things had cooled between Trip and Ruby, this might be the night to make his move. Jon could remember, even now, that Trip had looked haplessly gorgeous as usual, though even his jeans showed stains of engine grease. They had decided to go to one of the more liberal clubs San Francisco had to offer, though Trip had quipped that he was more in the mood for a big hearty steak than mixed drinks. In retrospect, Jon knew the source of his discomfort, but he was none the wiser at the time, even though he managed to notice a certain stiffness in his 'date's' person.

Trip finally seemed to loosen up while waiting for Randy and what Trip called the 'mystery woman,' (which Jon failed to correct, probably out of fear--though his fear was later confirmed). They were leaning on the bar, finishing their first round of drinks, sure that Randy would be able to catch up, and Jon had his arm resting casually on the bar behind his friend's back. The lighting was dim and the music the perfect mix of energy and romance. Trip was laughing at something, words forgotten in the nearly electric atmosphere, his eyes squinted in laughter and his lips in that perfect indecision between open and closed. Jon was seconds away from forsaking his plans of delicate seduction to kiss him then and there. That was when Randy and Lars, or whatever his name was, came bounding through the door, Randy squeezing his date's ass as he guided him over to meet them.

The smile disappeared from Trip's face and he snapped further to attention than Jon had ever seen him, even in front of the highest echelons of the Starfleet brass. He shook Lars' hand dutifully and gave him a muted version of the Tucker grin, while keeping his eyes glued to Randy's shameless manipulation's of his date's body. They had barely sat down at their table when Trip announced that he suddenly had a major migraine, possibly from sniffing dilithium exhaust all day, and had to get some rest. Of course this was a particularly lame excuse to use in front of a chemist, who knew better than anyone that if Trip had been breathing dilithium exhaust he would be hospitalized by now.

Trip and Randy were all business after that. Sure, they still came over to Jon's place to watch football, and they still joked about Jon's insane interest in a sport where half of the major action was obscured by the water and argued about engine schematics, but Randy couldn't touch Trip without him tensing up or jumping slightly, and when they went camping, Jon always found himself in the middle, not that he minded being sandwiched in between two incredibly sexy men. And it need not be said that relationship talk was strictly off limits.

Jon had given up on ever being with Trip, even though that didn't stop him from wanting him. He dated a few other men, but they all broke up with him, annoyed that they never got to meet this infamous best friend whom they heard about constantly but who was always too busy to see them. One or two even accused Jon of being ashamed of them, when he kept looking over his shoulder when they were in public or couldn't seem to get his palms to stop sweating while holding hands. Eventually he gave up on men altogether and settled into the role of best friend, wanting without hope of having. Truthfully, he knew that none of his relationships ever worked because the others simply weren't Trip, and despite all his efforts he fell more and more in love with him daily.

No one could match his unbridled enthusiasm or his solid kindness or his encouraging half-grin. Not even Randy survived the black hole that was his relationship with Trip. They all kept in touch, of course, but as Enterprise neared completion it was clear that it would soon be just Jon and Trip. Not that Randy seemed to mind: he had chosen both the civilian life and to work with Starfleet officers who could be ripped out of his world at anytime on the whim of the almighty bureaucracy. He had been convinced where Jon would end up even before he was, and readied himself for the separation accordingly.

He would have been able to accept this slow drift apart, for it was part of his job description, but just before they left Spacedock Randy had given Jon some news that completely floored him. He had told Jon that he was engaged to a professor at the Academy. Jon congratulated him, even managed a forlorn smile. In fact, he was deeply honored that Randy had still offered him the position of best man, though they both knew that Jon wouldn't be able to accept. They had shared an intense glance of apology and regret.

Jon was both deeply pained and furious. He was angry that Trip's homophobia had made him miss hearing when the man who used to be his best friend fell in love and angry at the universe for putting him in the position to have to choose between a close friend who had done nothing wrong and a prejudicial and off-limits fool who he just happened to be madly in love with. A better man would have chosen Randy, the innocent victim who had always taken care of Jon and deserved his loyalty. A better man would have confronted Trip after that first night, made him really goddamn uncomfortable and perhaps dislodged him from his biases as a result, perhaps at the cost of their friendship. But Jon was too hopelessly blinded by Trip's benevolence and charisma in every other aspect of his personality to do anything but love him. He honestly didn't think he could live without him. Choosing Randy would have gutted him, left him an empty shell. Randy had understood that, and he had let Jon go. Sometimes he really missed him.

Some part of Jon wanted to blame Trip. Everything had been so good, but he had screwed it up. It was 100% his fault, but it was unintentional. He couldn't expect him to stand up to his prejudices, could he? Trip had grown up in the old south, after all. Even as they claimed to have surpassed all kind of prejudice, the roots of racism and hatred of difference ran deep. Trip was a southern gentleman, born and bred to treat women (much to their delight) with a certain deferential charm and men with an honorable but somewhat antagonistic respect. Even after more than a decade of living in San Francisco, Trip hadn't lost his accent or fully blended into the queer-lib aura of the city. It was part of what made Trip who he was; he couldn't begrudge him his upbringing, as much as it hurt him. Could he?

It was a fear, just like any other fear. He couldn't be angry at Hoshi for being afraid of the transporter or Malcolm for his aquaphobia or even T'Pol for what he privately thought of as emotionophobia. Trip was just afraid of homosexuals, the same way some people are afraid of clowns. Jon's rationalizations held for about two seconds.

It wasn't that Trip had a fear that hurt, as much as the knowledge that if Trip knew the real him, he would fear him; that their entire relationship had been a lie, a failed come-on that had lasted nearly a decade. Sometimes he wished he had never met Randy, never got beyond simple attraction. Sure he probably would have still fallen for Trip, but then he wouldn't be someone who's very person Trip feared. God, he regretted every single fuck. He wished that he had never crossed the line, because he couldn't live in a world where Trip was afraid of him, where Trip avoided him. Sooner or later he would slip, and then it would be all over between them just as it had been all over between Trip and Randy. If who he was drove Trip away, then he hated who he was.

He must have been scowling because Hoshi stopped her enthusiastic jabber to ask him, "Is something the matter, Sir?"

"Not at all Hoshi. You're right, it really does make you think."

She smiled at his interest, oblivious to the fact that he hadn't been listening for the past several minutes, "Would you like me to send you my preliminary notes?"

He tried to sound enthusiastic, "That would be wonderful, Hoshi. Maybe you should send some to the good doctor as well, he'll undoubtedly jump at the chance to put on his anthropologist hat again."

"I think I'm going to send copies to Subcommander T'Pol and Commander Tucker too."

"No!" He yelled, almost instinctually and much harsher than he intended.

"Sir?" She looked at him quizzically.

"I just don't think you should interrupt Commander Tucker, I'm sure he's already got a full dose of Anatman culture by now. The sooner he fixes those shield generators the sooner we can be on our way, hopefully with fully functional shielding." He said with a dismal attempt at a reassuring smile.

Trip would react to the Anatman the exact same way he reacted to Randy, aliens or not. He had proved that the fact that they were from a different culture did not stop him from judging them as he would judge humans.

"Yes, Sir."

"Thanks, Hoshi." He cut the transmission and buried his head in his hands with a weary sigh. How ironic. A few weeks from what in all likelihood would be the last battle of their lives, and he had his own personal demons thrown back in his face. And he thought that the demons of all of humanity would be enough to overwhelm them. If love was eternal then pain must be as well.

CHAPTER 10

Dr. Phlox was taking advantage of this brief break in his duties as CMO to write a letter home. He hoped his wives wouldn't mind if he sent them all the same update with a special note specifically for each one of them at the end. Usually he took the time to write different versions of his activities depending on their interests with lots of inside jokes and questions interspersed, but life had been hectic in the Expanse. So many strange phenomena had lead to an overwhelming number of injuries, especially minor ones. He supposed he should feel thankful they were mostly minor, though he would feel better if there were none at all.

Perhaps the fact that Lieutenant Reed was currently off duty and Commander Tucker was planet-side had something to do with the unexpected lull in patient-flow. Sometimes he thought he should just assign each of them a permanent bed in sickbay. He smiled at the thought. Perhaps the next time one of them was celebrating a birthday...Oh well, at least they had given him a break.

Of course, the sickbay doors opened at exactly that moment, proving he spoke too soon. He stood, grabbing his medical scanner, "Commander Tucker, I thought you were still down on the planet."

The commander seemed rather distracted. He was looking around sickbay in a daze, as though he had never seen it before. Of course, he'd probably spent more time here than anyone other than the medical staff. His eyes finally landed on the Phlox and looked at him expectantly.

"Is there something I can do for you, Commander?" Phlox asked patiently, wondering why he hadn't received word that the commander was returning to receive medical treatment, though there definitely seemed to be something wrong. He began listing his options as the commander stared at him, bewildered. Alien virus? Pollen? Mind-controlling wisps? Concussion? Alcohol? Radiation?

"I burnt my hand." Well that was unexpected.

"Let's take a look, hm?" Phlox gestured toward the bed he was thinking of dedicating to the commander. Tucker only nodded as he shuffled towards him, not even flinching when the doctor began examining his hand.

Phlox was surprised. This kind of burn was routine for the engineer; in fact, he remembered chiding Tucker for waiting for the end of the shift to see to burns that were far worse than this one. He wondered what would prompt him to travel all the way back from the planet for something he clearly knew how to treat himself. In fact, the wound already seemed to be well on it's way to healing, and it didn't seem at all infected. "Is this all?" Phlox asked skeptically, running another scan.

The commander nodded, and the doctor was almost sure that he saw him shiver.

"It appears you have already received preliminary treatment. I'm curious as to the Anatman medical facilities. From the scans T'Pol has already sent back I've become quite intrigued by their physiology and their culture. It's not every day you meet sentient photosynthetic organisms, especially not this advanced, hmm?"

That seemed to shake the commander from his trance. "They're plants?"

"A very evolved form, yes. Everything from the chemical communication to the absorption of nutrients from a root system has stayed intact over millenia. Frankly, it's amazing. I'm curious, what else did you learn about their culture?"

Phlox began rubbing a healing gel over the commander's hand, noticing that he had already lost him to his thoughts. Unfortunately his scan showed nothing but a foreign chemical compound concentrated around the wound, which he assumed was the Anantman treatment. He would like to do a more detailed study, however; perhaps it had some sedative side effects.

"He kissed me." The commander placed a hand lightly on his lips, though Phlox assumed this was in a reaction of surprise.

"Yes, that would explain why the wound is already beginning to heal." He reached for a blood collection device; he would definitely like to study this chemical. "You would be surprised at how many species possess saliva with healing properties. Half of the animals in my collection..."

"No, Doc, he kissed me." Tucker finally met his eyes, with a deeply troubled look.

"Oh," Phlox looked up and blinked. The commander had undoubtedly been kissed by other aliens, as the -what was it?- 'grape creeper?' of the ship indicated. In fact, he had found evidence that he and the Princess Kaitaama had done a great deal more than kissing. Still, the commander had never openly discussed it before. Perhaps this signaled the beginning of a new level of friendship, or at least a less difficult doctor-patient relationship. Phlox's grinned his full smile, "Congratulations! Apparently you do manage to, as Lieutenant Reed says, 'find a girl in every bloody port.'" He joked.

He had expected at least a chuckle, but only received a scowl. Phlox became concerned with the lost look in those normally bright eyes, "He didn't do anything else to you, did he?"

His patient shook his head as he brought his feet up to his chest, staring into space, his face pale and breaths heavy. Phlox's medical expertise would treat this as shock, but it seemed to be the emotional rather than the physical kind. It was intriguing how similar they seemed in humans.

"I'm not gay," he said simply, as Phlox reclaimed his right hand and began to bandage it.

"Apparently not." Phlox replied patiently, "Though I don't know how you would expect him to know that. I doubt the Anatman even make that distinction. They reproduce sexually in much the same way as humans, but, much like fruit-producing plants, they deposit their seeds in the earth part-way through gestation, where the fetus absorbs enough nutrients from the soil to grow. According to Ensign Sato, they don't even know which children belongs to whom when they finally emerge, so procreation in order to raise a child doesn't much figure into their society. She also said something interesting about a lack of gendered language in Anantman culture, other than 'able to bear children.'"

"Oh god." Tucker breathed, closing his eyes, "I led him on. I never thought he would. I mean, most people, even in San Francisco, understand that I'm straight. I didn't mean to hurt him."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Mr. Tucker. He was probably giving you what is considered plenty of warning in his culture. You couldn't have been expected to notice."

"The smells..."

"Yes, the Anatman have a very rich subtext to their language based entirely on olfactory signals."

"He probably gave me the chemical equivalent of a slap on the butt, I was just to dense to realize it."

Phlox just smiled at the commander's colorful use of language. Maybe all of this strange behavior was just concern over this incident. "So you aren't going to take advantage of this opportunity?"

"Opportunity? Like I said, I'm not gay." He frowned.

"Yes, but this is a chance to explore the mating rituals of an amazing culture. Surely you must have expressed some sort of interest if you were, 'leading him on.'"

"I'm not gay."

Phlox was puzzled. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because I'm not. I've never had a sexual relationship with a man and I never want to." The commander seemed almost angry. Phlox frowned; humans could be so strange sometimes, not following their natural inclinations because of strange ideas of cultural propriety. He supposed he should have expected this from Tucker, after the way he had behaved with Feezal. The way they were getting along definitely would have qualified as interest, though the commander was quick to deny it.

"Why not? In Anatman culture there is no such thing as gay or straight."

"I just...I'm a man. Men don't..."

"Well, obviously some do." He smiled.

"Some do, but I don't." The commander snapped.

"Why?"

"It's just...look, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Whatever you say, Commander." It seemed to be a rather touchy subject. Phlox wondered why. He would have to look up homophobia in the human database.

"I mean, have you ever thought about it?" Tucker responded, as though that question ended it.

"Oh, yes. In fact, when Feezal introduced me to her second husband we had quite a time." And he didn't think the commander could get any paler! He was discovering new things every day. Perhaps he's never thought about me that way, he thought. He flashed him a reassuring grin, "Not that we would have expected that of you, had you taken Feezal up on her offer. Not everyone is as hedonistic as Azor, hmm?"

Plox was surprised to note that the commander had gone from white to red rather quickly. Remarkable. "Too much info, Doc. Are you done yet?"

He finished tying off the bandage, "I trust you know how to take care of this, Commander. I don't want to see that you have been neglecting it again, hmm? I'll check up on you when you're done with your repairs."

"Thanks, Doc," He replied with what appeared to be a great look of relief, "I'm going to check in with the cap'n." He smiled wanly, practically running from sickbay.

Phlox turned to his animals, "As much as I study humans, I doubt I will ever fully understand Commander Tucker," he told them.

CHAPTER 11

She smelled him before she saw him. It was like the smell of moss growing in a dark crevasse, the smell of the heavens weeping in a torrential downpour, the smell of a long stagnant pool, the smell of sorrow. She turned to face him only after Cen asked, "Evi, please, what is the matter?"

He stood in the doorway to Cen's office, casting a shadow through the floor that seemed darker than all the rest, though she knew it was only her imagination. Hoshi could see his eyes glazing over, but Anatman did not cry in tears, they cried in the very air around them. His tight ponytail was disordered and frayed and his hand shook just slightly as he took the seat Cen offered him. "This one...this one has come to ask a linguistics question," he stuttered.

Hoshi melted with concern, sensing the confusion in his sorrow, "Ask away?" She said with an encouraging smile.

"What is the meaning of this word, 'gay?' Does it mean that someone is damaged or ill?"

Hoshi sighed, of course there would be no translation of the word 'gay' in a society without gender. "No, Evi. 'Gay' is a more relaxed term for the word homosexual."

"Of the same sex?" Cen inquired, eyebrows rising in interest.

Hoshi couldn't help but smile as his perceptivity. "Yes, of the same sex. It means someone who has sexual relationships with a person of the same sex. So 'one who bears children' with another 'one that bears children,' or two 'ones that do not bear children.'"

Evi looked further confused, "That doesn't make any sense."

Hoshi checked her translational matrix just to make sure she had used the term correctly. "I know it might be confusing for you to think that we make distinctions like that one, but it is important in our society because..." Why was that important? Because some 'swing that way' and some don't? No ... there must be a better reason, or at least one that makes humans look better to a culture like the Anatman's. "...because such individuals are unable to raise children of their own blood." She said, wondering if her answer was satisfactory.

"What is the matter with that? The Anatman rarely raise children of their own blood."

Cen leaned across the table to interrupt, "Evi, though you have not had studies in cross-cultural anthropology please try to understand: that is their way. Humans birth their young whole and must nurse them for several years, the parental bond is much stronger."

"This one understands, Cen. It's just...what is so horrible about not being able to raise children related to you by blood, for surely there are those who still need homes? Are all those unable to produce their own children shunned on your world? Is it forbidden?" He asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"No..." Hoshi began, confused, "What would give you that idea, Evi?"

"Tri- Commander Tucker said...well he seemed to imply that it was a bad thing."

Hoshi frowned; she never thought that Trip would say anything that hateful. There hadn't been any hate crimes against homosexuals for years, and evidences of prejudice were few and far between. Trip was the last person she would expect that from: he was so friendly. He had homosexuals serving under his command and he never treated them any differently. Not that people would discuss their sexuality with their commanding officer, and Trip could be pretty oblivious sometimes, but how the hell could he miss Rostov staring at his ass all the time? Hoshi had noticed and she spent about as much time in Engineering as Porthos. No, Trip would never say anything like that. "What exactly did he say, Evi?"

"He said that he wasn't gay," Evi practically whimpered.

Hoshi would have laughed if Evi didn't look so distraught over it. It seemed that almost every alien engineer Trip ever worked with ended up wanting to jump him, male or female. "Oh Evi, there's no need to be upset. I'm sure the commander thinks you're a great guy. He's just not attracted to men."

"I don't understand."

"Well, you know how there are some people with whom you would want to..." she blushed, "and there are some that you wouldn't?" Evi nodded. "Well, Trip is just saying that he would rather not with another man, that's all."

"But...he seemed...he left."

"I thought he went back to the ship to get his hand looked at. When he commed he sounded out of breath, like he might be in pain."

Evi hung his head in defeat, "This one must apologize. This one was unaware of the gravity of his injuries. He seemed alright."

Hoshi smiled warmly, "Trip has a way of trying to seem fine when he's not." Seeing the worried pallor of Evi's face she amended, "Though I'm sure it's nothing serious, he said he was fine flying the shuttle back on his own. He wanted to check on something in Engineering too. It's nothing to be upset about."

Evi lowered his eyes, "This one is sorry. This one just recently broke up; the emotions have been clouding this one's judgment."

"There's no need to apologize." Hoshi said with a smile. "I think I'll have a little talk with Trip about clear communication. I've already had to reprogram the UT to accommodate some of his more colorful phraseology."

"No!" Evi exclaimed, loud enough to make both Hoshi and Cen raise their eyebrows in surprise. "This one means, it was not the commander's mistake, it was all do to this one's misinterpretation. Thank you very much for your help, Ensign Sato, Cen. If you would excuse this one, there is much to be done before the commander returns."

"See you later, Evi." Hoshi called to his retreating back. His response reminded her so much of the captain's earlier outburst. Why was everyone trying to protect Trip? Sure, he definitely did need a little protection -mostly from himself- every once and a while. But this was linguistics, not dangerous aliens trying to shoot or impregnate him; he should be fine. Words never hurt anyone did they? She hated herself the second she even thought that thought. She was a linguist; of course she thought words had power! That included to power to do harm, even at a definitional level.

That was the problem with definitions: they came with connotations and assumptions. People were often pigeonholed for the various definitions they fell under. Hoshi knew this, being Asian. It wasn't as though it was even a big deal anymore, but every once in a while she would still get people assuming that she was a scientist or a doctor based on her race. It didn't bother her, she rarely even thought about it, but it was there. Perhaps, as long as there were words and connotations for divisions like this, there would always be a certain degree of fear of being misrepresented by connotations that had nothing to do with the actual denotation of the word.

Perhaps Trip really was the type to fear labels like gay or homosexual. There still were stereotypes, even if they were rarely malicious, and Trip was definitely a lady's man. Still, he got pigeonholed as a southern hick all of the time, yet he still embraced his accent, when she knew for a fact he was perfectly capable of dropping it for the lazy Californian inflection he'd known for at least a decade.

But then again, if anyone was in the position to know and try to protect him from letting that kind of prejudice slip on a diplomatic mission, it was the captain. And judging by his reaction, and now Evi's, perhaps Trip really did have a problem.

So what if he did? It wasn't really her place to do anything about it. If the captain hadn't already done something, how could she expect to? They were friends, but he and the captain had known each other since before she was even in Starfleet. And he even had diplomatic reasons to intervene.

Besides, what would she say? 'Trip, stop being a homophobe?' 'I'm not going to be friends with someone as intolerant as you?' 'Did you know this one time at the academy I...do you still want to be my friend now?' 'What the hell is wrong with you?' 'How did you come to feel this way? Did anyone ever do anything to you?' 'Maybe you should read some books on the gay rights movement.' Everything she thought of seemed ineffective and trivial, more likely to ruin their friendship then actually do anything. No, if Jon couldn't do anything, she didn't have a snowflake's chance in hell.

"Masai?" Cen brought her back from her thoughts. "Evi's question made me wonder about the complex social structure of your people. Do you have hierarchies in your overall society as well as in your military organizations? Like a class structure?"

Hoshi let her mind wander from the distressing impotence she felt concerning the commander to more engrossing topics like comparative sociology. Cen was so good at making her forget all of her worries. If only she could forget all of the world outside of this peaceful planet.

CHAPTER 12

Jonathan Archer sat in his quarters, bouncing his water polo ball against the wall. T'Pol had commed him to say that Trip was returning to the ship. She didn't really give him a concrete reason why; apparently Trip hadn't been all that clear. He sighed, trying to calm his nerves. He didn't really know whether not to be nervous. Sometimes Trip could just be unpredictable; there was nothing you could do about it. He could be dying from an alien virus or simply have decided that he wanted to see to some detail in engineering himself.

Who was he kidding? When it came to Trip, he would always choose to worry. He had already commed the bridge only to find that Trip was in sickbay, and he was very close to getting up to check on him for himself when his door chimed and none other than the man he'd been thinking about stepped in.

"Hey, Jon." Okay, so this was a friendly call. Odd, in the middle of a mission., but he'd take what he could get.

"Beer?" Jon asked, though looking Trip over, he wasn't sure that was the best idea. He seemed distracted. His hair looked like he had either just been sleeping or he had been running his hands through it far too often, and Jon could almost see the tension in his well-defined muscles.

Trip shook his head. "I've got to get back down to the planet soon, after I grab some stuff from Engineering."

Jon noticed the bandage on his hand and frowned with concern, "What happened?"

"Electrical burn. Phlox took care of it." He responded dismissively.

"So what's up?" From the way Trip was pacing, Jon almost wished Trip had taken him up on his offer for a beer, because it looked as though Jon would be wanting one himself.

"Nothing." It was token resistance, at best.

"Come on, Trip. You obviously came back here because you wanted to discuss something with me."

Trip's confused blue eyes met his and he almost melted right there. He wasn't used to seeing Trip this bewildered and vulnerable, especially with the shell he had been building around himself since his sister's death. Jon thought they had recovered a little of their old friendly banter, even after that incident with the hatchlings, but it could have just been a kind of morbid death-bed wish for happier times, an attempt to reassure themselves that everything was normal and they weren't all heading to their deaths.

"Do you think I'm gay, Jon?" Trip asked quietly, before he finally sat down, hands fumbling with the ties on his bandage.

Jon couldn't do anything but gape at him like a fish out of water. Trip was the last person he would ever think was gay, but what the hell did that have to do with anything? Did Trip somehow realize how he felt about him on the planet? Was the universe that cruel? Well, obviously it was pretty damn cruel, having Trip ask him that question under any circumstances.

Jon bit back the urge to say, 'I wish,' and tried to drain all emotion out of his voice, "I highly doubt it. Though I am curious why you would ask."

Jon had to strain to hear Trip's whispered confession, "Evi kissed me."

That is not in the slightest bit erotic. Jon forced his inner voice to repeat. Still, he couldn't get the image of Trip locked in a passionate embrace with one of those delicate green aliens. And the alien was rapidly morphing into Jon himself, Trip devouring his lips, pulling him in with passionate need, moaning from the pleasure he caused.

Of course, the second he managed to drag his mind out of the gutter, arousal was replaced by jealousy. What if Trip enjoyed it? What if he was actually questioning his sexuality? Had Jon missed his chance? Lost the love of his life to an alien? "Did you enjoy it?" The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth in a high-pitched squeak.

Trip paused for a little too long for his liking. "No ..." Jon couldn't help his disbelieving stare, "I ... um...didn't really give it enough time to know whether or not I enjoyed it."

Jon didn't know whether or not to be relieved. "Are you thinking of trying it again?" He couldn't help but sound accusatorial.

Another far-too-lengthy pause, "I...I don't know, Jon. The Anatman don't have gender distinctions. I just don't want to botch another first contact."

"I think making out with alien engineers is above and beyond the call of duty as far as diplomacy is concerned, even for you." Jon tried to laugh, but it came out more like a dry cough.

"I can't...I mean, what the hell is my problem? I would make out with a fucking corpse if it would help us destroy the Xindi weapon, but I can't deal with a kiss from a man I really do care about without freaking out. How pathetic." He scowled.

Jon couldn't think of anything to say. He just sat there and gulped. What the hell was Trip's problem, anyway?

When Jon didn't respond, Trip continued. "We're supposed to be an enlightened society, Jon. I remember braggin' to T'Pol about how great we are because we managed to solve war and genocide in under a hundred years. And we like to think that we're really tolerant and beyond racism and sexism and stereotypes, but we're not. I went to all of those mandatory tolerance courses. Hell, I was trained in cross-cultural diplomacy, for Christsakes! I mean, we honestly believe that we can treat other species with respect and not fear their differences, but is it even possible to see our own bias until we are confronted with true objectivity?"

"What are you trying to say, Trip?"

"I guess I thought humankind had progressed beyond sexism and homophobia, and I was proud of it. But being faced with a society that's truly gender blind, well, it means that we have to see how hard it really is not to be prejudicial. Just by having definitions like gay or straight or masculine or feminine, we're creating stereotypes. The Anatman have done what humanity doesn't have the courage to do, they've taken away the tools of prejudice, by taking away these distinctions."

"And, frankly, Jon, it scares the hell out of me. Being a man, a good 'ole southern boy, is so much a part of who I am that when I'm faced with people who don't take that as a given, I find myself floundering. I mean, there's a grudging tolerance for other things, built out of necessity, and then there's breaking barriers. And while humankind may have found tolerance, we haven't broken a single barrier."

Trip closed his eyes, heaving a despondent sigh, "I was so scared to be labeled a homosexual, I didn't even think about what I really felt. I've been conditioned not to feel so much that I can't."

"Trip, you're not attracted to men, you can't blame yourself for that." If I can't...

"Intellectually, I know that if he was female I would have kissed him back. Even when a part of me is shamefully disgusted, another knows that he makes me feel like I've never felt before." Jon nearly cringed. He had always dreamed of the day when Trip might consider men, but he never anticipated that it wouldn't be him that he fell in love with. "I may not be as bad as those people that used the beat homosexuals, or make laws to imprison them, but I'm in the same category."

Jon wanted to console him, tell him that he wasn't at all the same. After all, they both had gay friends, bi friends, and lesbian friends. And while Trip had always treated them all with respect and compassion, he always found an excuse to duck out of the room whenever they began to discuss their sexuality.

At first Jon had been a little embarrassed by this, always reassuring them that Trip was just shy when it came to sex. This was a lie, of course. After all, Jon had heard the blow by blow on many of the engineer's conquests, as much as it pained him. As even Jon became convinced of the lie, however, he still got the impression that their friends didn't really buy it. Trip was just too damned outgoing and honest in pretty much everything he did to convince anyone that sexual shyness was a characteristic.

Jon could only manage a weak, "Freaking out when kissed by a guy is nowhere near beating someone to death for their sexual preferences."

Trip looked out into the nothingness of space, the starlight casting what would ordinarily be an angelic glint on his features. Now, however, the haunting kiss of that ethereal light served only to highlight the melancholy in his eyes, turning the frown lines across his forehead and around his eyes into soulless crevasses. "It's in the same ballpark." He said softly, voice steeped in shame.

For some reason, Jon couldn't even begin to deny it. In fact he found some of the pent up anger that he thought he had quashed years ago boil to the surface. Trip was his best friend, goddamn it! He should be able to share everything with him, just as Trip was sharing his fear and guilt with him now.

"Jon?" Trip interrupted his reverie, a spark of both concern and fear in his eyes, "You seem...angry."

Now's the time to tell him. a voice in his head whispered. Tell him what? another voice rejoined, That you're bisexual? That you've been in love with him for nearly 10 years but haven't had the balls to say anything? That you're really fucking angry that he made you lose touch with Randy? That he really is guilty of being a bigoted asshole? That he deserves to feel confusion and self-hatred for all the pain he's caused you? Jon floundered, "I'm not angry, Trip. I'm just confused at why you're doing this. I mean, as much as we might try to deny it we all know that you've never been particularly comfortable in situations like that. Now that we're on a diplomatic mission, however, you've been forced into the situation and you're concerned. It's understandable that you might be a little unsure, but you can deal with this. You were pregnant for christsakes, you can certainly take this small blow to your masculinity."

It had been the same with every first contact. Trip had to deal with them on his terms. He could feel sympathy for people, and he was certainly capable of tolerance, but T'Pol was right in the end: Trip couldn't let other people be different without making a value judgment. He loved new things and he was willing to try most anything once, but once something made an appearance on his radar it was automatically shunted through his deeply ingrained sense of values. They were where Trip got his honesty, his integrity, his courage, all qualities that Jon had fallen in love with.

In a strange way this was exactly like what happened with the Vissian cogenitor. Trip couldn't cope with something outside his worldview. He couldn't get past that human sense of right and wrong or the inner fire that made him act on it. Trip knew better than to try and fix homosexuality, so he ran from it. Maybe that's what got Jon so mad: the fact that Trip didn't try to understand the cogenitor in its own context, just as Trip never tried to understand Jon in his own context. Hell, the signs were there for anyone to see, Trip just ignored them.

Jon was both glad that he did and desperate for something to shake him from this limbo. But he was afraid that his prejudices would be more important to Trip than their friendship. That's what would hurt the most. Rejection he could deal with, he just didn't have the courage to risk Trip's presence in his life in order to try and exorcise this prejudice. A part of him had hoped that the universe would somehow force Trip to deal with his issues. He supposed that the universe had complied.

That didn't make him any less angry though.

"It's not that, Jon. It's just...I'm scared."

Jon raised his eyebrows, suddenly feeling sorry for that part of Trip that was thoroughly indoctrinated in exclusive heterosexism. It must have been so hard for him, trying to deal with his discomfort while still remaining pleasant. He couldn't help the fact that he didn't want to be labeled as 'other,' even when everyone claimed that sexualities were equal, separate but equal. He felt the weight of anger being lifted from his shoulders as he submerged himself in concern for his best friend. "Why are you scared?"

"It's silly and disgusting, but I'm afraid that things will change, if I accept what the Anatman represent. If I do finally consider doing something with Evi, then all the walls of my thoroughly heterosexual worldview will come crumbling down. I'll be forced to reevaluate everything in my life and all the choices I've made, and I'm not sure I'm ready to do that."

Jon tried to swallow down the rage that sprang back with a vengeance, though he was fully aware of the scowl that was developing on his face. He was afraid? He wasn't ready? Jon had suffered this pain for nearly a decade because he wasn't ready? He gulped, "You don't have to be afraid, Trip. Nothing will change. You'll still be you." Even as he said those words he hoped they weren't true. He wanted -no, needed- Trip to change. "I won't stop loving you."

Why had he said that? Could he be any more obvious? Trip didn't need to be hit on at this particular moment. Jon was torn between rage and desire, so he simply remained silent, hoping simultaneously that Trip wouldn't notice how he was gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and that he would just jump him and kiss him passionately.

"I know, Jon. That's why I love ya. Even when you've had to judge me as my captain, you've never judged me as a man." He sighed, meeting Jon's eyes with a stare so saturated with both apology and love that neither could maintain it for long. As Trip looked down at the carpeting, Jon began to wonder if there was more in that gaze than the love of a friend for a friend. Deep beneath all of the anxiety and need in those fathomless blue eyes there was a hint of longing and perhaps passion as heated as his own.

He was imagining it. He was projecting what he wanted to see, just as he had all those years ago when he thought he actually had a chance with the man before him.

Jon was spellbound. He could barely get the words out, yet they seemed to flow from him as natural as the spring. "You're not perfect, Trip, but you're a good person. You can't change who you are, but you can't hide who you are either."

Jon had to fight back a frown as he considered his last words. He couldn't help his sexuality. He could neither be blamed for it nor blame others for it. He couldn't hide from it either. His preoccupation with denial demonstrated that he could never escape. He had hid for ten years; it was finally time to just be himself. He would tell him. On the count of three: One...two...

"Thanks, Jon. I really needed that," Trip smiled warmly, almost shyly. Jon thought of dawn from a starship in orbit, the sunlight spilling across the horizon, outlining the silhouette of an entire world, living oblivious to the everyday miracle taking place above their heads.

Their eyes locked yet again, finding each other now in exploration, searching for what was plainly there, what had been there for nearly a decade. Concern melted into compassion into empathy into love; need into desire; loneliness into longing; and trust into intimacy. For a second they were the world. They held it up between them, bound by the quiet intensity of their passion. Trip smiled but his eyes betray a nearly physical pain.

After all those years, all it took was a single look for Jon to understand that deep down Trip loved him back, that he did want to be with him. Hell, they had been together every way but sexually. They were already in love. Even if he did say something, nothing could change that. They were who they were and they were so intertwined that they could no longer survive apart.

Jon would tell him...

Trip broke their gaze, awkward for the first time in years. "Look...Jon...I think I ought to get going, generator's not gonna fix itself." He joked with a regretful half smile.

Jon wanted to grab his arm and tell him. He wanted to draw into his arms at last, have him where he belonged, "Trip?"

"Yes, Cap'n?"

"Good luck."

CHAPTER 13

T'Pol looked up from the report Hoshi sent her the day before, as Mita approached after having finished the latest sleep cycle. "Commander Tucker has reported that repairs in the shield generator are complete. This means we will be departing soon." T'Pol said, avoiding the Anatman's shining teal eyes and attempting to remove the melancholy tone from her voice. It seemed too soon to leave. She was becoming accustomed to life among the Anatman.

"This one had hoped that you would stay longer. It has been wonderful to learn about your people and their ways. It does us so much good to know that there are ways out there that are not our own, and helps us to improve."

"It is to be regretted. It seems that we have much to learn from the Anatman as well. If this were still a mission of exploration, I do not doubt that we would stay. We must find the Xindi weapon as soon as possible, however. There is too much at stake to indulge in what we might prefer to do."

"I have downloaded all the information we can give you on the Xindi." Mita handed T'Pol a bundle of exquisitely embroidered cloth, which contained clear datachip that looked more like a crystal than a piece of technology. "Do you have any more questions before you depart? Perhaps something about what you read in Ensign Sato's report?" She said, looking at what T'Pol was reading.

T'Pol hesitated. She really should be asking about the Xindi, but she had run out of questions in the four days she had spent here. The Anatman knew much about the organic components of Xindi systems; it seemed that the Anatman themselves 'grew' most of their technology. While this fascinated her as a scientist, there was little she could discuss with Mita or any of the other Anatman, who refused to even consider weaponry beyond the knowledge that their defenses could repel it. It was considered a morbid topic, and Mita knew only what appeared on the scanners.

No, more talk of weapons would only offend their gracious hosts. If this were a mission of exploration she would have spent little time on the subject, interested in Anatman culture instead. She wanted to ask about the lack of distinctions in a society where everyone was grouped by their interests but not bound by them. Vulcans considered themselves supremely enlightened beings, creatures of logic, yet they maintained prejudice and stereotypes, which the Anatman seemed to have eradicated. She wanted to know how this was accomplished.

Mita eyed her carefully, smiling a soft smile, mischief playing easily in her expressive eyes. T'Pol could smell the overwhelming scent of sunshine and wildflowers. Somehow, she did not find it displeasing. "You are wondering about our lack of 'gender distinctions' as Ensign Sato was."

"It is illogical to couple with someone you are unable to procreate with." T'Pol replied coolly.

Mita rose easily to the argument, countering without aggression or judgment, but with passionate conviction nonetheless. T'Pol had come to enjoy this woman's fiery rationality, wondering if someday Vulcans could grow to appreciate -and perhaps adopt- a similar manner. "We can't help who we love. As your people might say, Subcommander, it is illogical to base your love of someone on outward appearance, or the presence of a certain type of genitalia."

T'Pol considered this for a moment. It made sense in a very human way, but she was not human, so there was a huge flaw in the argument. "Love is at its very core illogical."

"What's illogical about finding a sympathetic soul? Does it not make sense to spend your life with someone that, even if you deny the fact that they make you happy, seems to compliment you?"

T'Pol opened her mouth to speak but promptly closed it. She had been schooled to say that without emotion, there was no need to treat people differently. But that was a lie. There were some people that she could spend a lifetime with, without a thought. Strangely, she counted Captain Archer and Commander Tucker among them, as difficult as they could be at times. It wasn't love, but they certainly did complement her personality.

Sensing her companion's hesitation, Mita continued her argument, trying to phrase it in the most Vulcan way possible, "There are some with whom existence would be in the least more efficient, at best supremely fulfilling. Are there not ones that you care about? Do you worry about their well-being more than empty logic dictates?"

T'Pol remembered how she had felt that unfamiliar tension in the pit of her stomach when the captain had been hit by a spacial disturbance, the intense need to stay by his side, to make sure he was better, as though her presence could actually do something for him. And she remembered offering to help Commander Tucker with Vulcan neuropressure, though every iota of Vulcan cultural teaching was screaming for her to keep traditional Vulcan secrets. Her attachment to and compassion for the commander had outweighed. Now she even found herself enjoying their sessions and his company. She remembered speaking Vulcan conspiratorially with Ensign Sato when they beat Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker in the shipwide cargo-bay handball tournament, back in the days when smiles and games on Enterprise were not few and far between. She had almost felt glad that the captain ordered her to participate, especially when their opponents immediately dissolved into bickering and scapegoating after their loss.

There were definitely those that she cared about, more than she should. But wasn't that to be explained as a necessary adaptation to life among humans? It certainly wasn't love. It was compassion and perhaps loyalty. Though she remembered what Commander Tucker said during their first major conversation -perhaps, more accurately labeled, argument, 'then again, loyalty is an emotion.'

Mita smiled and laid a soft green hand over her own. T'Pol did not find herself tensing, as she usually would with an unfamiliar touch. Perhaps the neuropressure sessions were really starting to get to her, after all. She felt almost serene. "It's alright to feel, T'Pol. No one can blame you for caring about your fellow crewmembers."

"The Vulcan Science Directorate and the High Command can," she said almost just to be contrary, but in a defeated way as well.

"You're learning new things about a culture the Vulcan High Command has taken little time to study despite it's importance."

"How do you know humankind is important?" She said, barely cloaking the suspicion in her voice. She wondered if the increasing paranoia of both the captain and Lieutenant Reed was really starting to rub off on her, or if she really was allowing her affection for these strange beings cloud her better judgment.

Mita seemed to sense her concerns and laugh them away, as carefree as the sweet scent of the ocean breeze. "Every culture is important. Every one is a chance for us to learn new things about the universe and ourselves. You might be the only one of your kind to truly appreciate that, but this one has a feeling that the rest will come to agree in time. Humanity grows strong."

"How do you know that?"

"Why else would the Xindi attack without provocation? They may be an aggressive species, but with their home world destroyed they can hardly afford to start wars with far off species for the fun of it."

"What are you not telling us?" T'Pol could not bury her suspicions. Then again, the Anatman had a way of seeming wise beyond time, perhaps because they spent so much time watching, not distracting themselves with the mire of conflict and politics.

"The Anatman have lived in this region and observed Xindi behavior for millennia; that combined with the strength this one sees in individuals and your admiration (which seems difficult to earn) for them is enough to convince. But this one has lost track of the point. You say you do not love, but caring is the beginning of love. The Anatman hope to care for all living beings and perhaps love them, though the ones we end up caring about most are generally not those we would expect."

T'Pol thought back to her original assignment to Enterprise. She was highly disturbed by Captain Archer's brazen and brash behavior in front of herself and Ambassador Soval, though she was gratified to see a slight lapse in control in the man who constantly cautioned her about maintaining her composure around humans. Still, she did not particularly appreciate the posting. And the first conversation she had with Commander Tucker had been an outright fight and the first touch of hands now so familiar and comforting to her had been disturbing if not slightly disgusting. She had even discouraged Ensign Sato from speaking to her in vulcan, an ability that she now treasured, for it's ability to make her feel less like an outsider, as irrational as it was. She never would have anticipated coming to care so much for these people.

"Perhaps they are not those who we expect."

"Then how is it logical not to couple with whoever you love. It is not as though you can control what genitalia they have or even what species." She said with a slight wink.

"I already admitted that love is not logical."

"But it is logical to want to share your body with those to whom you would trust your soul. Perhaps it is only ever a symbolic act to commit the body, but a worthy one, capable of strengthening that love."

"While a relationship between members of the same sex might be no different, procreation would not be possible."

"Sex is not always about procreation."

"For Vulcans it is." This conversation was fast approaching topics that vulcans considered taboo, especially in discussions with aliens, yet she felt more liberated than embarrassed, despite the unavoidable blush that painted her features.

"Perhaps. This one would say, however, that there are benefits that have nothing to do with procreation or necessarily the specifics of the act itself. Your people still experience pleasure and intimacy from sex, do you not?"

"I am unsure about pleasure, for I have never experienced sex for myself and the subject is considered taboo. Still, the intimacy of Vulcan sex occurs through telepathic bonding."

"Then you understand: it is about giving yourself to another, appearing naked before them, allowing them to take that which is most undeniably yours. You of all people must know that there is nothing more intimate than allowing someone else to please you, to give them the control of your emotions and trusting them enough to not hurt you when you are at your most vulnerable."

"I understand the intimacy, but the fact remains: two of the same gender are not capable of true sex, for sex is the act that leads to procreation."

"Sex is just a word. It is unfortunate that this word in your society is so biased toward a specific type of relationship, as though the intimacy of sex were dependant on procreation."

"The scientific definition of sex is the actions by which genetic material is passed on to offspring. It cannot occur between those of the same gender." Somehow the definition seemed so empty. Since when had she grown to see things from such a human point of view? Science had never seemed so empty before. Then again, she had never used it in the search for vindication, and perhaps destruction before. The Expanse had truly changed her.

"So the creation of a child in a laboratory would still be sex?" Mita asked innocently, though a slight smile showed that she believed the debate to be turning in her favor.

"No, it is not natural."

"But not all natural acts of sex occur with the goal of procreation in mind."

"They are still biological responses designed for procreation."

"So as long as one stimulates the biological responses designed for procreation, it is sex?"

T'Pol hesitated. "Yes."

"Well, those responses can be triggered between members of the same sex, even though the implicit goal of procreation will never be accomplished. In the end, the intimacy and the important parts of the act itself occur in all individuals indiscriminately. Procreation is only an effect of successful sex; sex itself does not depend upon it. Therefore it is logical to couple with one of the same sex." She stated with the finality of a scientific report, though her lips were upturned slightly in jest.

"Only in a society when the object of coupling is not procreation. In Vulcan society, intimacy is a by-product of sex not the other way around. Marriages are arranged so that procreation may occur."

"If one member of the couple is unable to produce children, does the marriage remain?"

"Yes, though it is complicated." There was a line to be drawn, and even T'Pol would not reveal the secrets of Vulcan mating rituals to a stranger.

"Perhaps your society only craves intimacy, so they construct it under conditions which do not allow it to evolve naturally. It is as arbitrary as who you end up falling in love with. Yet you give that person so much of yourself, enough so that they are bonded to you until eternity. It seems illogical that you should choose to bond with one who you may not be able to develop the greatest level of intimacy with, one who you already love and trust."

"Intimacy is not a priority in Vulcan society, procreation is. Therefore it is not logical to favor relationships between members of the same sex."

"But those types of relationships are not illogical in and of themselves?" Mita enquired with a teasing smile.

"No. In fact, I now understand why they would be particularly logical in humans, a species that values love and intimacy very highly." In fact, it almost seemed beneficial. Mita was correct in stating that perhaps relationships chosen for this 'compatibility' were likely more harmonious than purely arranged ones. She remembered her own resistance to her marriage to Koss. While she defended her people's customs to Commander Tucker, perhaps the entire situation would have resolved itself better if she and Koss had chosen each other as mates, rather than allowing society to choose for them.

If Mita was correct in saying that Vulcans needed intimacy as well as procreation, then perhaps same-sex relationships might be logical, though she doubted she would ever see the day they were accepted on her world. It was still far too dangerous to break the rigid system they had come to depend upon. What kind of chaos would erupt if Vulcans were allowed to follow their emotions to their mates in the same manner humans were?

She had already encountered high levels of emotion when humans became involved onboard Enterprise. In fact, she and Lieutenant Reed had had a very interesting discussion about the captain's decision to allow relationships onboard as he nursed a black eye gotten by trying to keep Lieutenant Hess from strangling her 'cheating bastard' of a boyfriend. If humans could become this violent, what would happen to Vulcans? Besides, as she had found with the crew of Enterprise, there were other ways to find intimacy, entirely separate from coupling.

"This one is pleased that you now understand. This one has gained an additional understanding of Vulcan culture as well. Thank you."

"Now could we please return to our previous discussion of the Xindi? How do you know so much of the future?"

"I see that there is no use avoiding it any longer. The Anatman possess certain faculties..."

She was interrupted by the chirping of a communicator, which T'Pol reached for almost instinctually. "Archer to T'Pol."

"T'Pol here."

The tension in Captain Archer's voice invaded the calm of the silent street, "We're detecting three Xindi ships on the approach, Subcommander. Return to the ship immediately."

"Have they detected our presence, Captain?"

"Not yet, but there is nowhere in this system to hide. We have no choice but to fight them, the Xindi council cannot know how close we are to their weapon."

"Understood. T'Pol out."

T'Pol and Mita shared a brief glance of apprehension and sympathy before running toward the landing pad.

CHAPTER 14

Evi stole a glace across the main generator chamber to where Trip was crouched monitoring the flow, his uniform rolled up at the sleeves, exposing a tantalizing bit of flesh. Evi remembered his taste; it still inundated his system, quickening his heartbeat with desire. It was salty as the distant sea, but rich and tangy as well, like the soil on the banks of a wide river just before the rainy season bleached the flavor from the earth.

The kiss had been a mistake. What did he expect to happen? Even if this exotic and beautiful human hadn't been on a mission to save his people from destruction, why would he want to stay with someone like Evi, just one among many? He would want to return to the mystical stars, to dance among the fires of the universe, to absorb the energy of different suns.

Perhaps he was one of those tantalizing beings of myth, the Enumi, one that would hear your lonely cry in the darkness between suns and come to illuminate you with its own interior fire, only to leave again at the dawn. Legend said that those who encountered these beings were both blessed and cursed: They were blessed for finding the bliss in darkness and discovering its secrets. But they were cursed because it only took one look from an Enumi to make you fall in love with it.

After the light of the Enumi, you would live, but never find equivalent brightness in any other sun, as though one awakened from the dead. You would never find love in another nor relish in the ability of creatures of light to connect with fellow beings and your environment, for the connection to the darkness was much more powerful. For the Enumi marked you as special, made you an "I" instead of one of the universal "we." But this was the price, for in order to allow you to see its light, the Enumi had to give you a little piece of itself, and love you even when it could not follow you into your own dawn, for the Enumi could never be tamed. They would never be part of the "we," for they were solitary creatures of the darkness.

They said that darkness could be a thousand times brighter than light if you found its secrets, the sweet whispers of the Enumi. Looking into Trip's eyes he knew this to be true. Somehow they contained all of the dark desperate passion that the Anatman never dared explore in their bright depths. Yes, Trip would go to any lengths to achieve his goal. He was free, unbound, to dance with the darkness and so his choice of light was a thousand times more potent, because he did not depend on the strength of others to support his luminosity and thus dilute it. No, Trip's light was his alone.

He had felt a glimpse of that dark passion like a chord of thunder directly to his lazy heart, shocking him to life at the next level. But Trip had withdrawn his blessing, as fleeting as the life of a single blade of grass compared to longevity of the vast field.

He still could not understand Trip's violent reaction to his advances. Things had not been the same since then. He was still blessed by his warm smiles and his encouraging comments on their progress, but he was now obsessed with showing Evi the specifics of the new dilithium chamber and disappeared into his own thoughts whenever he was not talking about the machines. He tensed whenever Evi got near, and this caused Evi near physical pain. What had changed so drastically? The other human could not even explain it.

He could not use his sense of diffusion to understand Trip's moods, beyond fear and attraction, and he had definitely sensed both when they kissed. Still, the spectrum of emotions in-between were completely lost to him. Perhaps the mystery was part of what made Trip so attractive, though his personality was enough to make anyone fall in love with him.

Now, he was utterly confused. Trip had said he was not 'gay' as though it was the most disgusting thing in the world. Was Trip disgusted by him? Was this a human excuse to brush aside the unwanted? No, it could not be, Trip had openly stated that he thought Evi was a worthy mate. As difficult as it was for him to believe it, perhaps humans really did judge based on ability to bear children. It was an alien society after all, and obviously Trip desperately wanted a family of blood relations, so much that he was disgusted by all other offers. Evi let his disappointment effuse, knowing that Trip wouldn't really be able to interpret it anyway. Even if they had managed to be together there would be a great gap of communication between them, as hard to cross as the line between light and darkness. They might be of the same 'gender' but this seemed especially trivial in light of their other differences.

Trip called to him from across the room, "We've managed to collect ninety-eight percent of the dilithium in the reaction chamber. That's as good as it's going to get. The generator's operating efficiently, new power sources included. It looks like I'm out of things to do." He smiled letting those beautifully compact hands finally rest at his sides. Evi wished he could bask in the radiance of that relaxed smile forever.

"This one would like to perform some additional checks from the control room before you depart." Evi said, desperate to maintain contact, even if it was all work related.

"Of course. I can tell you more about the maintenance of the dilithium chamber, though we've already sent you the specs. There's some trade secrets I'd like to pass on," he said with a wink.

Evi was deeply saddened that Trip would be leaving, but he had his duties. Still, he wished they could remain friends, perhaps stay in touch. "Trip, this one was hoping that we could..." He was interrupted by the chirp of a communicator.

"T'Pol to Commander Tucker."

"Tucker here."

"Xindi ships approach, we are ordered to return to the ship."

Evi closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling first the connection with the Others and then with his world and finally with the stars. They could already feel the disturbance in space, jarring their consciousness like waves crashing from the far off pull of the moon. Three large ships approached, and they were angry. They craved the destruction of the Anatman, the all-seeing. He wondered if the Xindi knew that the Anatman spoke the truth of their fate they would stop this fruitless fight.

They could feel the heartbeat of their battle-ready ships, strong and determined, overwhelmed with bloodlust. Enterprise could not hope to compete against ships so angry, covered with thick thorns and so much venom. Evi followed the ripples in the universe, the flow of each individual atom and its song, begging the Others to join him. Everything was connected and everything aware. They only had to follow the whispers of the ether, of every grain of space dust and every foreign star. The universe knew inevitability, and it knew what must happen. Yes, there were many uncertainties, but this was not one of them: if Enterprise engaged the Xindi, they would not survive, neither would Earth.

Evi pulled himself out of his trance as Trip brushed by him, grabbing his toolbox and jogging toward the door. Evi tried to control himself, but he could not. He grabbed Trip's arm, relishing in the contact, the sweet taste of his flesh, tangy and sweet with an undercurrent of strength and just a small amount of doubt, and now fear. "Don't go. You will be safe under the shield."

"I need to return to the ship. Enterprise will be taking damage fighting the Xindi, and she'll need her chief engineer."

"Do not fight, then." Evi pleaded desperately, not bothering to control his cloud of desperation and fear. "Abandon your ship and come to live with the Anatman. We will protect your entire crew from the Xindi. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing. You can forget about your sorrows here, Trip. This one has felt them slipping since you arrived. Forget your pain and come with us in the eternal light. Stay with us and become peace."

Evi gazed into those alien eyes, reading the moment of hesitation across the divides of culture and experience. He could see the unrestrained desire for peace in the suddenly sad eyes. "Stay with me." Evi pleaded, trying to pour as much love and compassion into his voice as he could, knowing that Trip could not interpret his effusions. He did not know what had happened between them, but Trip seemed to care enough to gasp, almost inaudibly. A small part of him, at least, was considering it.

"I could never attain peace knowing I left my post, perhaps allowing what happened to 7 million of my people and my own sister to occur to the rest of my species and others." Evi could almost see the pain and the guilt radiating from him, returned full force. He wanted nothing more than to hold this amazing, compassionate, and beautiful being in his arms and sooth away the worries of a cruel world.

"What will you accomplish by sacrificing yourself too?"

"Enterprise may not be as advanced as the Anatman or the Xindi, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to give up on her just yet. Now, unless you have any way to help us, this may be goodbye." Evi wished he could have the same faith, but he knew Trip's fate. Trip reached out and let his hand brush briefly over Evi's cheek.

The caress was chaste but tender. It exploded like fireworks through Evi's mind. Yet he knew it was only a small fraction of the love Trip had to give. Perhaps there was no future in which he could ever feel that, for Trip didn't seem to want it with him, but he still could not risk this being the last time he would ever feel that touch.

Evi was torn. There was a way to concentrate the shield into a concrete beam, which could be used like a battering ram to disable approaching ships. He had researched it when it became clear that the dilithium energy might not prove viable. He had been willing to use it, and get blood on his hands if it could save the colony. Had they not been abused enough by the Xindi? He, for one, could not stand by and watch them destroy his people.

But he would not be fighting for the Anatman. Truth be told, he would not be fighting for the people of Earth; he would be fighting for Trip. His people had already had a chance to save 7 million and Trip's sister, but they had not done it. Their beliefs were worth more. If the vows that bound them could not survive under pressure in the end they were meaningless. It only took one slip to begin on the road to immorality and aggression, after all. Like a crack in the ice of the northern sea, a small fracture could widen to break off an entire shelf, or so they said. Mayaet, he was beginning to think of his own people as 'they,' he must already be cursed. Still, it was only one more step, a step off the path to save an entire species. One step didn't seem so bad, for falling in love with Trip had been most of the journey.

Who knows where that one step might lead, but Evi was willing to take it. Nothing would be worse than watching Trip and the rest of his crew die before his eyes, dooming their entire species to follow while he stood by and did nothing to help them. He was aware he was making a deal with Yasaker, the demon of compromise, but he did not care. Even his soul was worth the price.

"Trip." Evi nearly cried at the retreating form.

Trip stopped and fixed him with another wistful gaze, "Evi, I told you..."

"This one can help. Tell your captain to lure the Xindi directly over the dome, we will be able to focus the shield on them in a concentrated pulse."

"I thought you were pacifists," Trip said uncertainly.

"This one would rather be prepared. The algorithms are already bloomed in the main computer, though this one has never tested them."

"Well it's a little late for that. Still, it's the best plan we've got. I'm not sure how well Enterprise can do against more than one Xindi ship without help. I'll com the captain."

"I will run additional tests. You should calculate the coordinates," Evi managed to say. Already he could feel the change occurring. His blood seemed to rush through his capillaries, tingling slightly. Yes, he was no longer a part of the system, detached from the Others. He was cut off from the future and thus his chosen destiny. Who knew what would happen to them now? It was up to the grace of the dark chaos to which Trip belonged, detached from the web of the universe. He hoped Trip could wield his dark-light well enough for them to emerge victorious, because focusing the shield would leave the colony vulnerable to an attack. "You must not inform Mita of our plan."

Trip frowned. "We can't ask you to act against the will of your people."

"Mita cannot directly order the destruction of other beings. She is tied to ideals of our people. That does not mean the Anatman do not wish to help you. I am in charge of the generator; I will use it as it necessary. This is your only chance."

Trip seemed to hesitate before he nodded and stalked off to contact his ship and calculate the correct coordinates.

It would be only minutes before the Xindi engaged Enterprise. Evi's checks were all going well, but he did not know how the new dilithium chamber would affect his simulations, and there was no time to do them again. The chamber was a bit of a clog in the system, because the injectior system was not calibrated for continuous flow like all Anatman systems. It would have to operate in rapid bursts. Evi hoped this would not affect the pressure. He ran another diagnostic looking for microfractures in the capillary system.

He quickly lost track of time, too absorbed in his diagnostics to even worry about the danger he was about to put his people in. All that mattered was helping the humans, if the Anatman could not even try to do that, then they were not worthy of peace or protection. As they were taught from a very young age, 'Treat others as you would like to be treated, for they are you and you are they. Bodies are only flimsy barriers to a unified universe.'

If they wished the humans the same as they would wish for themselves, then they must strive to protect them, not stand by and watch while the Xindi destroyed them. Evi was not willing to sacrifice sentient life for the ideals of non-intervention. He would not sacrifice Trip. Before those that died to keep the Anatman untainted had been faceless, but now they had faces. They were warm beings, who loved and were loved. And Evi loved one. He would atone for the mistakes of his people even if they all had to die in the process.

Evi smiled as each diagnostic came back positive, though he doubted he would have the time to finish the check and he hadn't when Trip returned only moments later. "When the captain gives the order, we're supposed to fire. Are we ready?"

"As ready as we will be. I've ripened the correct protocols on the main terminal. All you have to do is press your hand to the hand pad to fire. I need to stay here to monitor the flow."

"Thanks, Evi." Trip's voice was warm, speaking of his caring and understanding that he was sincere and would be even if the mission failed. His smile left Evi with little doubt that it would succeed and the firm grip he laid on Evi's shoulder just briefly was a taste of ambrosia. For a second, Evi was content. Then Trip was gone.

Evi cursed himself for the stench of fear he had created around him. He was just so overwhelmed. Nothing in his life so far prepared him for the tension of this moment, when the existence of an entire species depended on an idea he had never tested. Yes, the colony depended on his skills at maintaining the generator daily, but all he did was keep someone else's fire burning. This use as a weapon was all his idea. He knew he was prepared to leave his people in order to save the humans, but he was not sure he was prepared to face the consequences if he failed both the humans and the colony. Then again, if that happened there probably would be nothing left of him but dust without the chance of rebirth.

It was only minutes before Evi felt the entire room shudder around him, blue light pulsing up the walls and directly into the apex of the half-sphere. Then as quickly as the intensity built, it disappeared.

Trip came running into the generator room, sweat dripping down his face. Evi could smell its enticing scent from all the way across the room, the adrenaline in it further stimulating his own nerves. Trip was afraid. "Evi, we only got one and slightly damaged a second. They're avoiding the target space."

"We can angle the field."

"How?"

"Aligning the magnets around the section that generates the beam. Press your hand to the slight green indent on the far wall to unlock them."

Trip nodded and ran for the wall while Evi looked back down at the monitoring system. The pressure was getting dangerously high. They could only sustain one more burst like that before the main juncture regulator overheated and the field shut down.

"What now?" Trip called.

"You have to realign them from the control room, press your hand to the control on the magnetic field monitoring station and turn it a few degrees. Then all we have to do is tell Enterprise where. I can ..."

Suddenly all of the lights dimmed, only the blue glow of the walls illuminating them. Evi had to struggle to remain conscious, his light-starved body automatically beginning to shut down. Then they heard a distinct cracking noise. Evi did not need to turn to know that one of the pipes had ruptured; he could tell by the increase in light alone.

Trip's eyes met his, the darkness just allowing him to see his own fear mirrored there. Evi forced himself to speak, overriding their brief second of intimacy. "I will fix this. You should still be able to realign the field from the control room and fire as soon as the system stabilizes."

Trip only nodded and rushed from the room into the all-enveloping darkness. Evi felt a chill descend upon him as he thought of Trip groping alone in the fathomless black. He must not worry now; humans could live in darkness. He needed to focus.

He grabbed a piece of scrap metal and the welder Trip had been using to construct the secondary generator and ran toward where bright blue liquid was now bubbling out of the side of the dome and puddling in an eerie glowing lake on the floor. He thought of the legends that spoke of the muted light of the well of separate souls, where those that broke their covenant with their people would go in death, unable to return to the communal web that was the Anatman and their ecosystem; unable to give their bodies to rebirth in other creatures, and other Anatman one day. This is what he would find upon death. Or had he already died?

There was no going around, so Evi stepped into the lake, sealing his fate as his root systems eagerly drank from the chalice of his own demise. The liquid tasted of metal and blood flooded his skin, though the taste was secondary to the burning. His coveralls protected his trunk, but as his hands welded the material in place over the gaping wound in the shield generator, they started shaking with the burns, and he began to lose control.

He had two sides of the scrap welded in place, but his hands were shaking so much that he could no longer hold his tool. He couldn't even feel them anymore, and his vision was starting to blur. The world was too dark. He was frightened. The darkness seemed to crush him, pushing on his paper-thin frame from without as blue fire hollowed his insides from within. Besieged on two sides, there would soon be nothing left.

He fought for consciousness with more fervor then ever before, for life was now a battle to be won: for the Anatman, for Trip, for the humans that died, for those that would if he did not finish this, for the good in the world, and for himself. One more side to go.

His eyes were drooping, he could not tell if his hands really were shaking so violently, weaving such erratic patterns into the metal, or if the entire world was shaking from his nausea. He had just half a side to go, and the darkness was clawing at him. Now only a small trickle of blue seeped out. His own skin appeared almost purple now, the red of betrayal mixing with the calm blue of death. He had transformed. This was the end. All he had to do was let go.

As he collapsed to the ground, pain screaming through every nerve of his body, the lights came back on, providing only a droplet of relief in this sea of agony.

CHAPTER 15

Jon was glad to see Trip's face, as always, but he was instantly concerned that he was not seeing it in person, but from the control room of the Anatman shield generator. Why couldn't Trip just follow orders? It would save Jon a lot of worry-wrinkles if he did. "Why aren't you on a shuttlepod heading back to the ship, Commander? If you delay five more minutes I'm going to have to order the others to leave without you and then you can take your chances with the transporter." He could not hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Cap'n, we need to talk."

"I'm listening."

"In private." Jon nodded to the com officer taking Hoshi's place and walked into his ready room. He didn't like the look on Trip's face. It was harried and slightly distracted, as though he were only half focused on the conversation while the rest of his brain was off in engineering land buried in calculations. Then again, whatever insane scheme Trip was cooking up might actually prove promising.

Jon sat down at his desk with a sigh. "Go ahead," he said to the face on the monitor.

"Evi thinks we can focus the Anatman defense shield into a concentrated beam and use it to take out the Xindi ships." Trip said bluntly. Yep, definitely off swimming in calculations.

"Well that would sure help a hell of a lot. Are you sure it's feasible?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I'm still a novice at this technology, Cap'n, especially because the basic premises of Anatman engineering aren't even close to ours. But Evi thinks it will work and I trust him."

"You're not letting your personal feelings speak for you?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"'Course not, Cap'n! When have I ever..." Jon could see the anger building in Trip's drawn features. Even when they were minutes away from battle he could still get hopping mad if Jon offended him.

Jon quickly backpedaled, "I know, Trip, but I gotta ask. It just seems awfully suspicious to me: the Anatman are pacifist to the core, why would they be willing to do this?"

"What chance do we have against those ships, Cap'n?" Trip said with hollow eyes and an empty exhalation. It was clear Trip had already made his decision.

Jon sighed. He'd been over and over the scans with Malcolm, but the answer was still the same, "Not much. We're looking at three reptilian battle cruisers."

"Holy shit!" Trip gasped.

"Holy shit is right, but you haven't answered my question, Trip."

"This could greatly increase our chances of survival and thus our chances of saving Earth. All you have to do is get them to fly their ship directly over the generator."

Trip was a terrible liar, even if he was just being evasive, not actually lying. "Trip...what are you not telling me?"

"The Anatman are a pacifist people, and are bound by some sort of code of conduct or something to not take lives, even if it means their own deaths or the deaths of other beings. But Evi is in control of the shield generator and -as far as I understan Anatman society- what he decides to do with it is completely up to him."

"But he would be breaking their code of ethics." Jon argued, though a part of him knew Trip had already won this argument. 'Chances of saving Earth,' was now the magic phrase. It seemed that whenever it was employed, Jon's qualms had to fold like a house of cards.

"He's willing, Jon, and he implied that though the rest of his people wouldn't risk getting their hands dirty by ordering anyone to their deaths, they want to save Enterprise and thus would be willing to accept his actions, even implicitly encourage them."

"I don't know if I'm willing to compromise the belief systems of an entire people by reading that much in between the lines, Trip."

Trip gave him a desperate look, focusing entirely on him for the first time in this conversation. "Look, Cap'n, I don't know what kind of scans the Anatman can perform -though I'm willing to bet they are more sophisticated than ours- but Evi seems to think there is absolutely no chance Enterprise can win this fight. Our entire society versus their ideals? Earth wins hands down."

Jon closed his eyes with a world-weary sigh. Trip could shoot his mouth off all he wanted to, but Jon was the Captain. It was one thing to say that ethics needed to be compromised, or pat the guy on the back who finally did the dirty work for you, and quite another to actually do it. When it came down to it, he was the one who would have to actually compromise his ethics, and do what he never thought he could ever do. He didn't want to be the bad guy, the hit-man, the one with all the blood on his hands.

It had been tearing him apart from the inside out. He joined Starfleet to be an explorer. And now? He had compromised his own ideals over and over again. Torture? Deceptive interrogation techniques? Unethical medical procedures? What was beyond him? He was on the slippery slope and goddamnit he was slipping! And as much as he wanted to climb out of this pit he had dug for himself and reclaim the persona of the idealistic explorer, Trip was right: Earth outweighed everything, even his own conscience, and if he didn't make this decision now, all he had already sacrificed, including pieces of his own soul, would be lost in vain.

"You have a go, Trip. Travis will need those coordinates in the next five minutes. I'll send T'Pol over to you."

"Cap'n?"

"Yes?"

"It might be best if you...um...didn't tell them; the Anatman can be uncannily perceptive at times. I'll brief T'Pol when she gets here." While Jon didn't like keeping things from his second, this small sin of omission was just a drop in the bucket next to what he had done and was about to do. That fact didn't make him any less uneasy about it though.

"Understood. Now let's get to work."

Trip nodded and switched off the viewer. Jon stared at the blank screen for a second, immediately missing his handsome face, even if it was both under stress and conflicted. He slammed his hand down on the desk, hating that he had to maintain even these small deceptions before opening the comm.

"Archer to T'Pol."

"T'Pol."

"There's been a slight change of plans. Where are you now?"

"Waiting in the shuttlepod."

"I would like you to head over to the generator. Hoshi can stay with your Anatman hosts."

"May I enquire about the change of plans?" He could hear the unspoken tension in T'Pol's voice. She didn't like being kept in the dark about things.

"Just hurry," he said with a wince.

"Yes, Sir." She was not happy about this, he could tell. Another thing to apologize for.

Jon allowed him one final sigh before he put on his brave-and-unfaltering-captain face and headed for the bridge. Another battle to fight. When would it ever end?

Before he knew it Jon was sitting in the captain's chair doing his best to remain calm. He had commanded the ship in countless battles, and this was just like any other. Enterprise might take a beating but with the help of the Anatman, he was confident that they would survive. Still, like before any anticipated conflict, he felt the muscles in his stomach tense.

And he would feel better if he had T'Pol and Hoshi and, most of all, Trip, back on board. But there was no time for that now and there was nobody he would rather have taking care of things down on the planet other than Trip and T'Pol. He still felt empty without them, however, even when he knew that Lieutenant Hess was more than capable of handling matters in engineering. At least if Enterprise doesn't make it, Trip might survive to live with the Anatman. he thought with an inward sigh.

"They've detected us, Sir." Malcolm called from behind him. "They're deploying into an attack formation."

"You have the coordinates, Travis?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Evasive maneuvers." As though he even needed to say it. But at least it made everyone on the bridge feel as though someone was in control of the situation.

Two of the ships focused on the aft phase cannons while the third circled like a vulture, waiting for an opening in the barrage of forward fire Malcolm was giving them.

"Hull plating to seventy percent." Malcolm called just as Travis executed a swift barrel role and led the two pursuing ships directly into the line of the generator fire they were expecting from the planet.

It was all up to Trip now. Jon opened the com and yelled, "Fire!"

A great blue beam shot up from the planet like a giant searchlight vaulting into space. It crushed the first ship as though it was a piece of tin foil not a Reptilian battle cruiser, and the second went slamming into it, though the field dissipated before it was destroyed as well.

Travis brought the ship around for a pass on the second ship, which drifted away from the generator's area on minimal thrusters. Apparently it still had weapons, for green fire leapt from its ports to cut a wide swathe across the forward hull-plating.

"Hull plating at forty percent!" Malcolm announced, as Jon reseated himself in his chair. By now, the third ship had decided to engage, attacking the already weak aft phase cannons.

Smoke was drifting across the bridge from somewhere behind him and he heard the soft hiss of a fire extinguisher. Travis tried to dodge another shot from the wounded ship, giving Malcolm a good shot at its shield generators, but allowing the second to take out Enterprise's aft phase cannons.

They still had torpedo launchers, but the Xindi were now focusing on those. Jon knew that it would be only minutes before they would lose all rear defenses. They needed another shot from the planet.

"Take us over the generator again, Travis!" At least that gave them a brief respite from the bombardments of the other ships, which refused to take the bait.

Jon flipped on the com again, "Trip, they're not falling for it!"

It was a second before he heard the comforting southern drawl, bringing his world back into stability, despite the slight tremor of strain in the hurried tones, "I know, Cap'n. Evi thinks we can angle the beam to a new location. I'll send you the coordinates as soon as I know."

Malcolm had managed to take out the second ship's shield generators, but they still had a thick hull and all their weapon's systems, if limited mobility, and were holding their own against the forward torpedo launchers.

Travis had managed to shake the third ship briefly, and was preparing to come around for another pass at the second's weapons systems, when the other ship broke off entirely and dove toward the planet.

"The planetary shield is down!" Jon felt his stomach do a flip, even in the heat of battle. Trip hadn't told him that firing using the shield would leave the colony defenseless. "The third ship is locking onto the shield generator!"

"Put us in between, Travis!" Jon ordered without hesitation. He would not allow the peaceful Anatman to lose their only line of defense in payment for helping them. Besides, Trip was in there.

The ship groaned as the green beam cut into it, sparks flew from behind Malcolm's station and Jon was nearly thrown from his chair in the impact.

"Hull plating is down, Sir!" Malcolm shouted, grasping a burnt hand.

"Trip I need those coordinates." Jon pleaded, mentally crossing his fingers.

Malcolm got off a few good shots, managing to disable the port side weapons of the third Reptilian ship, and Travis was keeping on the blind side with the ease of a swifter ship with a swifter pilot. But when the other ship finally limped over Enterprise would be an easy target.

"I'm transmitting them now, Sir." Trip's voice was music to his battle scarred ears.

"Let's lure them in again, Travis."

"Aye, Sir."

Enterprise wove around the larger vessel, taunting it with small stings of weapon's fire and luring it closer to the target coordinates like a moth toward a flame. The second ship just got into weapons range when Jon yelled, "Fire!"

Another brilliant blue beam shot up from the surface, missing Enterprise's starboard nacelle by a hair's breadth but catching the Xindi head on; the debris vaulted out of orbit by the force of the beam.

"Nice shooting, Trip." Jon said more to himself than anyone else, but the com was still open. Trip didn't answer.

"One to go people."

"Aye, Sir." Jon could almost see the satisfied smirk on Malcolm's face though he didn't turn to look. He was completely focused on the now predatory circle Travis was flying around the last ship, keeping the still fully armed port side weapons systems between them. Enterprise strafed the other ship's hull, taking out their remaining frontal weaponry in a small cascade of explosions. Jon grinned victoriously; as Malcolm used their last remaining aft torpedo tube to finish off the last ship's engines, enveloping it in a cloud of violently colored explosions. Enterprise didn't even feel the shockwave of its destruction.

When the last ship was destroyed, Jon slumped back into his chair with a sigh, reopening the channel to the surface. "We got them, Trip."

His only response was static. Jon's heart, not yet recovered from the adrenaline of commanding the bridge during battle, sped back into action with twice the fervor, "Archer to Tucker, please respond." Still static. "Malcolm?"

"The shield's down again, Sir."

"Archer to T'Pol."

"T'Pol."

"We've defeated the Xindi. Are you with Commander Tucker?"

"No, Captain, I'm just entering the shield generator complex."

"Trip's not answering us, you might want to hurry things up."

"Understood."

Jon couldn't even unclench his muscles enough to stand and pace. Why wasn't Trip answering his communicator? He had heard his melodic drawl just minutes ago. What if this was the time? The time that Trip wasn't coming back. Of course it would have to be right after he had decided to tell Trip about his feelings, but not had a chance to. Well, in all fairness he had a chance, he was just didn't want to rush it. What if this meant he never got another one?

It was strange; Jon had never really thought Trip might never know. Even after ten years of keeping the secret as though his life depended upon it (though in a way it did), all the futures he envisioned involved Trip finding out one day or telling him as they were old men fishing in one of the now obliterated ponds near Trip's family home.

T'Pol's voice returning over the com made him tense even more than he thought possible. He could hear the apprehension in the Vulcan's voice, and that scared him beyond his wildest nightmares. "T'Pol to Enterprise. Please transport an EV suit to my location as quickly as possible and tell Dr. Phlox to prepare for severe radiation poisoning."

Jon's entire body lurched. Radiation poisoning? He just stared into space as Malcolm relayed the request to the transporter room. The only coherent thoughts he could form were worries about Trip.

CHAPTER 16

Through all of the adrenaline and the cascade of thoughts and calculations that seemed to assail him, Trip did not notice the subtle change in Evi's coloring, a twinge of red creeping through his capillaries, nor his sudden use of the pronoun 'I.' He only saw the tension in those deep teal eyes the second the lights clicked off, leaving them in the eerie blue of the chamber that seemed to dust everything like the light shining through a sheet of ice. This must be Evi's worst nightmare: a world without light.

Behind Evi he could see threatening blue liquid bubbling out of a crack in the wall, with the ominous foreboding of a dark swamp. But Trip had never been this afraid treading through the eerie quiet of the everglades at night--despite the many dangers it held. Evi's fear of a world of darkness was infectious. He could feel it in the air; more palpable than the half-light of the shadowlike patterns the blue veins of the wall wove into everything around them. He tried to put comfort in his fleeting gaze, knowing that this might be the last.

"I will fix this." Evi's voice was more commanding than Trip had ever heard him. There would be no argument. "You should still be able to realign the field from the control room and fire as soon as the system stabilizes."

Trip didn't really know how to interpret all of the Anatman systems; Evi needed to be doing this. Then again, Evi couldn't even function in the darkness outside this room, so Trip just turned on his heel and ran for the exit.

It was pitch black so he couldn't see his hands in front of him, and the only sounds were the erratic beat of his heart as it sped into overdrive and the ragged pull of his breaths. He stroked a hand along the wall, trying to remember the path to the control room burned onto his inner-eye.

He stumbled over something, catching himself just before he went flying face-first into the floor. "Damn it!" It was the toolbox he had dropped earlier when they first came up with this plan. There was no time to console his stubbed toes, however, as he trudged further into the unknown, feeling the doorframe to the control room in front of him and sliding his hand into the slight depression of the door panel. Luckily, it opened, revealing even more darkness. "Shit!" He remembered a similar task in his Starfleet training, trying to school him to operate in an engine room if all power abandoned them to the darkness of space. He could do anything in his engine room with his eyes closed, but not in this foreign space where half the consoles were still a mystery to him.

Wait, his toolbox! Trip turned and crouched, feeling along the floor for his previously discarded tools. His hand came into contact with something sharp, sending a stabbing pain through his palm. "Great, I always have to find the sharp objects first, don't I?" he said to the darkness.

His hands roamed over familiar shapes. That was one good thing about spending your life crawling around confined spaces and sticking your hands into impossible to reach panels: you learned to see with touch alone. His hand closed around the object he was looking for, covering it in drops of red blood from his lacerated palm. Trip flipped on the flashlight and ran for the control room.

The panel at the back that controlled the magnetic field was dark. Trip just hoped that when he pressed his hand to the control something would happen, because if not, they were all up shit creek without a paddle.

He pressed it and nothing happened except the loud squish of blood smearing on the smooth glass. "God damn it!" He hoped Evi would get the power back online soon. But he had said it should still work... His palm scan was unreadable with the new gash in it. Trip cursed again and began ripping the bandage off his other hand. Hopefully Phlox's treatment had removed any scars, though the skin still felt tender.

This time when he pressed his palm he felt a sudden jolt, almost falling to his knees with the new feeling of weakness, as though he had just received an electrical shock. Trip looked at the monitor with a small laugh that came out more a grunt. It read, "Now operating on bioenergy backup." So it was parisiting of his energy. Because it's not as though anyone would need their own strength in a goddamn emergency! Great.

He twisted his hand a few degrees to the right before removing it and observing the numbers scrolling down the screen. He had no idea which one of them represented the tilt of the magnets, and he didn't even know what degree Evi had them angled at to begin with. He pulled his scanner from his pocket and began entering a calculation matrix into it. Once he knew the change in alignment he could derive the coordinates, but he needed Evi's help first.

Then the light came back on. Trip heaved a sigh of relief and dove for the microphone on the wall. "Evi!" He yelled, getting no response. If he wasn't reading this right, if he got it just a fraction of a degree off, he might destroy Enterprise and not the Xindi ships. He needed Evi to tell him what coordinates to use.

He was shaking all over, the console had drained a lot of his energy and kicked his adrenal glands into overdrive. The seconds with no response ticked by and his shaking only intensified from the fear that was settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Trip, I need those coordinates." The captain's voice crackled over his communicator. It was Jon's something-really-bad's-going-to-happen-if-you-don't-squeeze-a-miracle-out-of-tho\ se-engines voice. He didn't have much time.

He called for Evi again, but got no answer. Now or never, Trip, he said to himself. He wished Hoshi were here. Normally lives-depending-on-interpretation-of-alien-displays was her specialty. At least this was a machine. He could do machines. With a few quick calculations in his head he determined that there was only one number it could be. He hoped to God he was right and had found the change in angle number not some random reading he'd never heard of. He punched it into the calculation matrix. One more deep breath for good measure. Here goes nothing. "I'm transmitting them now, Cap'n."

He ran across the room and threw himself in front of the main shield controls just in time for the captain's shouted order. "Fire!"

Trip pressed the button and the few seconds that followed before the com crackled to life again were pure torture. Then again, he was used to flying around engineering flipping switches and shouting orders while he had no idea what was happening on the bridge. Still, if he were in Engineering when the ship got destroyed, at least he would know about it.

"Nice shooting, Trip." Relief flooded him almost instantly as he collapsed, heaving deep breathes against the control panel. Jon's voice was like a slice of heaven.

This moment of reprieve was short-lived, however, for a flashing green glow exploded behind his closed eyes. He looked up to see the warning light on the panel his head was just pressed against. The main juncture regulator was overheating; they needed to shut down the entire system. "Evi, we need to shut down!" He yelled into the wall-mic, but once again received no response.

Trip rallied his remaining energy and bolted for the generator room. The scene he saw when he arrived there practically ripped his beating heart from his chest. Evi was lying unmoving in a puddle of blue, looking strangely like a vast pool of blood, though he knew it was just generator liquid. The walls were pulsing erratically, and there was still a trickle from the hastily patched wall.

Trip wanted to go to Evi with all his heart, but he rushed instead for the main control panel on the central spire, pressing his throbbing hand to the contact point and turning it. The lights flickered but stayed on, though the green glow of the warning lights continued to pulse, even as the walls stilled.

"Evi! What do I do?" Trip yelled, unable to understand why the system was still critical even after a shut down. He crouched over Evi's still form, pulling him out of the puddle to safety and shaking him violently. "Evi, I need you to wake up and tell me what's wrong."

"The patch," Evi croaked, not opening his eyes. Trip didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the welder Evi had been using from the glowing blue liquid that stung like acid in his open wound. It took only seconds to seal the patch in place, but he was already teetering on the verge of collapse. There were still trace amounts of dilithium in the liquid, he reminded himself. That explained the fact that the room was spinning and that his legs no longer seemed capable of supporting him.

He collapsed to his knees, trying to feel through his uniform for his communicator and realizing that he had dropped it when he dove for the central spire. He managed to crawl towards Evi, taking in great rasping breaths.

Evi's skin was underlaid with a mass of purple veins. He looked almost bruised, his aquamarine eyes were open now, but their brightness was obscured by clouds of pain, and perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel. He coughed, reaching out a hand, which Trip grasped tightly, marking him with his own red blood.

"I'll get someone, they can heal you." Trip said, making a valiant attempt to stand, even though his legs would have none of it.

"No, they cannot. I am too far gone for any but the most intimate forms of healing." Evi replied calmly, even as blue liquid seemed to eat away at him, contorting familiar features into an indigo fog of pain.

"Then we can get Laer..." Trip pleaded desperately. He would not give up. He needed Evi to live. He could not stand watching another loved one die because of the Xindi. It just might break him. Tears were threatening to overwhelm him though he wasn't sure they were the reason his vision blurred.

"No, Trip. I have betrayed the values my people hold most sacred. I have killed. I may no longer call myself one of the Anatman. There is nothing that can save me. In choosing to help you, I changed my chemical makeup. I am an individual now, with an individual's fate; A fate which I deserve for murdering the crews of those ships."

Trip stared at him in disbelief. Evi was a hero, not a murderer, though often, he supposed, the two were one in the same. "No, Evi. You've saved my crew and by saving them you've given my entire world a chance." He placed a hand on Evi's shoulder, ignoring the pain in the cut on his palm. "You've saved me as well, Evi."

"Then perhaps it was worth it." Evi replied with a waning smile. "I will die knowing that you will go on."

Trip couldn't help but shed the tears that were now flowing freely, the pain -more emotional than physical- had made it too difficult to maintain control. "You can't die Evi," he said with all the calm assurance he could muster. "I'll heal you."

With that, Trip bent down, finding every space of clean green skin and covering it with tender kisses. A part of him knew that this was completely futile. He was not Anatman, even if he was willing to perform 'intimate' healing, so Evi would die in his arms. But he kept kissing, clinging like a child to the hope that somehow, someway, this could do something, that because Evi believed enough in him he would survive until Phlox could get here and save him. Trip's lips were growing numb from what must be a pain suppressant in Evi's skin, or perhaps his own failing grasp on consciousness, but his kisses grew more and more urgent. He needed to feel the comforting balm of Evi skin against his, and memorize it before it was too late.

The room stank of sweat, blood, and the smell of dead leaves in a harsh autumn and he was beginning to feel truly dizzy, unsure if he was still conscious or even alive. His own injuries were catching up with him, but he was determined to be with Evi in his last moments. In what might be both of our last moments he amended as a deep weariness crept up on him, darkening the edges of his vision and dulling all sound except the rush of blood raining to the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat.

He had just enough energy to jump from mountains to plains of cool green skin, finally finding the deep valley between two soft lips. Evi still tasted of lemonade on a warm day, of the deep relief of clear spring water, and of flowers opening to the sun, even though he was in the twilight of his life. Trip forgot that he was doing what he had sworn he would never do: kissing a man. He was offering comfort, relief, and the first spring blossoms of love, to someone whom he cared about. Next to the immensity of Evi's impending death, his own trivial fears and prejudices seemed insignificant.

He did not know how long the kiss lasted. It could have been a few seconds or an eternity. He did know the second he felt those welcoming lips harden, however, the second he knew Evi was dead. Suddenly, he had no more energy, no reason left to hold onto consciousness. He let it slip from him as easily as a feather dancing through a light summer wind, not even noticing the strong but tender hands that gripped him through an EV suit and lifted his body over a narrow shoulder.

"You will be alright, Commander." A calm Vulcan voice said to his unhearing ears. Had he been aware, he might have been delighted to find the slight twinge of concern and worry there.

Trip dreamed of the scent of hazelnut and cinnamon, a vast expanse of fault lines weaving a quilt through a baked desert floor, calm in the pre-dawn silence, the twinkle of distant stars promising strange new worlds and untold depths of exploration, and comforting arms surrounding him, a familiar breath tickling the nape of his neck. Was this heaven?

CHAPTER 17

He remembered the starlight kissing fair hair, jealous of moonbeams that had the grace to caress that glowing skin. Back then he didn't dare lay a hand on that angelic face, to trace the tiny mounds and craters that gave it a workingman's character, even feverish from sunburn and poison. It was enough to inhale the scent of sandalwood and sage and watch the forces of nature indulge in the feather-light touches he dare not. Jon treasured that night in the desert of Australia, when Trip had suffered from a scorpion bite, though he didn't envy Trip the experience. After giving him a hypo of antidote, Jon had spent the night leaned up against a boulder that blocked them from the harsh night wind, massaging all the poison from his friend's aching muscles, whispering words of comfort and perhaps love. The night had been so clear, and Trip's presence overwhelming under the austere beauty of the stars and the infinite plane of the desert floor.

That was the moment Jon realized how badly he had fallen. It had gone beyond a simple crush long before, but in the desert Jon had seen how Trip's very presence could illuminate his soul, and make him more complete somehow. It was deeper than being in love, even though it was as shattered as the cracked surface of the sun-baked earth, his soul disjointed between the part that was inextricably intertwined with Trip's and the part that had to fight with all remaining strength to keep itself hidden from his beloved. Even damaged as he was, he was still more with Trip in his life.

The dawn had brought them to their last day of survival training, and though Trip was capable of walking on his own, and even managed to stand through their instructor's evaluation, he was so out of it that Jon had to stay with him every minute until they were asleep in their tent, reminding him how to do various obvious tasks like eat and shower.

It was funny Trip hated the desert so much, considering he couldn't possibly remember much of the bad stuff from the survival-training-from-hell, and it wasn't as though scorpions were native to all deserts. Then again, their second desert adventure was definitely enough to put him off it for life. And even then, Jon hadn't had the courage to tell Trip the truth. Of course, telling him would have been an admission that his best friend was dying, an admission that Jon couldn't possibly have afforded.

He hated feeling this helpless. He had never been one to sit back and watch the action. Even his command style reflected this. He often put his own life unnecessarily at risk by leading away missions that might have been just as effective if left to a subordinate. But there was one thing that he and the rest of his command staff kept as an implicit rule: they would never order someone to do something they wouldn't. Jon had gotten an earful on the subject of protecting valuable officers from Admiral Forrest on multiple occasions, but he still couldn't help himself.

And now doing nothing was harder than ever, when the man he cared about more than almost anything in the universe -though perhaps not more than his planet or his crew, though Trip certainly had a larger chunk of his heart- was lying in sickbay. Jon just stared intently at the fragile rise and fall of the wheezing chest, as if he could improve Trip's condition by will alone.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear Phlox's shuffled approach. "He'll recover, Captain."

Jon's heart fluttered as he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He didn't turn to face the Denobulan standing at his side, however, staring in disbelief at the pallid white features of his chief engineer, ghastly and tinged with blue. Trip looked like death manifest, calling back memories of how they had found Malcolm and him huddled in the shuttlepod, nearly frozen to death. Jon shuddered. "He's so pale."

"He doesn't look it at the moment, but Mr. Tucker is amazingly resilient. Physically, he should be able to return to light duty in a few days." Phlox left the unspoken question hanging in the air, stifling what little warmth the doctor's cheery presence always seemed to bring to this sterile room. Trips body would heal as always, but what about his psyche? Hadn't the universe done enough to him?

The awkward silence stretched, only to be filled by Jon's innocuous statement, "He's going to be alright." The doctor obviously knew that, he just wanted to say it outloud, as though that would make it more real.

"Indeed he is," Phlox affirmed, his gentle voice soothing Jon's ears. He and Phlox had often been at odds, but it was times like these that reminded him of the gentle -though alien- soul of the man standing next to him, his steadfast presence communicating the comfort that his dislike of touch did not allow. At the end of the day, Jon was just a shell of a man. Phlox, on the other hand, remained always a healer.

"You're a miracle worker, Doctor."

Phlox gave a surprisingly tragic chuckle, "Hardly, Captain. He would have been beyond my skills as a doctor, except he seemed to ingest a large quantity of a healing substance before T'Pol found him. When the commander burnt his hand I was astonished by its properties. It's apparently secreted through the Anatman skin, mostly through the lips. This chemical was able to cushion the damage, keeping the commander stable enough for my treatments to be effective."

"That being said, Commander Tucker has a tough few days ahead of him. I was able to repair most of the damage to his kidneys and his lymphatic system, and my bloodworms and leeches should be able to cleanse most of the toxins from his system. Still, we're working on limited resources and he received quite a dose of radiation. We just have to let his body purge the rest on its own."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

"All we can do for him now is make him more comfortable." The doctor seemed vaguely frustrated. Jon supposed this was Phlox's equivalent of waiting in sickbay for the doctor's word.

The fragile form before them stirred slightly and Jon could just make out, "I'll be more comfortable in my own bed."

It wasn't even seconds before Jon was at his side, squeezing a balmy hand. "Hey, Trip, how are you feeling?"

"Crappy." Jon shot Phlox a look, raising his eyebrows. Trip must really be hurting or under the duress of too many painkillers to admit that.

Phlox busied himself taking a few more scans and smiled down at Trip, even though he'd already closed his eyes again. "You'll be feeling better in a few days, Commander."

"Tired," Trip gasped.

"Then go back to sleep." Phlox reassured him, matter-of-factly.

"'Kay," Trip said with a wince, features softening almost immediately as he returned to his healing slumber.

Jon spent a few minutes just watching Trip sleep, now that he was reassured that his friend would truly be all right. He cursed the fact that the only time he had to watch Trip relax into sleep was here in sickbay. Still holding Trip's hand he whispered to the doctor, "Don't you think he'd really be more comfortable in his own bed?" Trip really did have him wrapped around his little finger.

"He is in his own bed," Phlox quipped stoically. Jon could never tell whether or not the Denobulan was kidding, but he gave a small laugh anyway.

"Seriously, do you think we could move him? He's always complaining the sick bay beds make his back hurt."

"While I can assure you that these beds have been specifically designed by medical professionals to avoid such problems and the commander's discomfort is purely psychological -if not self-inflicted through constant fidgeting- I would tend to agree with you. He's not to be left alone, however," Phlox said, sternly, giving Jon one of his I-mean-business stares.

"I won't let him out of my sight, Doctor," Jon assured him with a sigh. What does Phlox take me for? Of course I'm not going to leave Trip alone, even if he threatens me with bodily harm.

"Very well," Phlox said with a nod, paging some of his medical technicians. "Take good care of him, Captain." Was that a wink? Jon shook his head. Either Phlox was playing mind games with him as part of some twisted psychological experiment (a possibility he never ruled out) or he had stumbled upon another form of odd Denobulan humor. Or... no, there's no way Phlox could have any idea of his feelings for Trip.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was sure to be a difficult healing process, both physical and emotional. He really didn't need this right now. He was under enough stress as it was, but not doing anything for Trip when he was so obviously in need was the equivalent of not breathing. He really had no choice.

CHAPTER 18

Jon marveled at how Trip managed to look desirable even in his fevered sleep, tossing and turning and giving small whimpers of pain, or perhaps memories of witnessing the death of the Anatman engineer. That innocent but troubled face drew out all of Jon's considerable protector instincts. He wanted to reach out to him, hug him and kiss all his troubles away. He had to settle for squeezing a clammy hand and whispering comforting words into troubled ears, however. Though he was surprised that sometimes his assurances seemed to have a calming effect on the engineer. They weren't always enough to overcome the problems, though. In which case Trip's desperation grew until he cried out. Jon watched him, sleeping fitfully in the chair by his side until late that night.

Trip was having a particularly disturbing dream, crying out, "Evi! Evi, I'm so sorry. I never gave you a chance!" Jon moved to kneel by his bedside, rubbing comforting hands down his back and whispering for him to go back to sleep and running a rough hand down the side of Trip's anguished face.

Trip calmed, bright blue eyes opening lazily in the darkness and shining with the same unnatural luminescence Jon had seen in the desert so many years ago.

"Hey," he cooed, softly.

"Jon?" Trip blinked, his voice so weak that Jon's heart broke just a little more hearing it, the reality of how close he had come to losing his friend hitting him as hard as the relief that Trip was here, having a conversation with him. Jon laid a preemptive hand on his friend's shoulder, hoping this would serve as a warning sign that he wasn't going to be allowed up.

"I'm here, Trip. You're safe on Enterprise."

"What happened?"

"Thanks to you, we beat the Xindi. Enterprise is fine. Hess says repairs will be complete in the next few days."

"I should get..."

Jon put on his command voice just briefly. "You're not going to Engineering. You're suffering from radiation sickness, Trip. You inhaled, ingested, and absorbed more dilithium than any other human being who's lived to tell the tale. You're lucky we have Phlox and his menagerie onboard. A human doctor would be signing your death certificate right about now. As it is, you're using his entire population of bloodworms."

Trip lay back, sighing in resignation, eyes a thousand miles away.

"Close your eyes." Jon ordered as he went for the light switch. "Do you think you're up for some ice chips? Phlox wants to avoid IVs if he can help it."

Trip nodded absently, pulling the blankets tighter around himself and shivering.

"Would you like another blanket?" Jon asked, already reaching for one and covering Trip with it. "Better?"

Again, the only answer he received was a nod. Jon grabbed some more pillows and propped Trip up on them, extending the ice chips on a spoon and shoveling them into an open mouth. Trip sucked on them automatically, refusing to meet Jon's gaze. Jon almost felt like taking the spoon and pretending it was a miniature spaceship complete with noises -the way he used to see Trip's mother feed her grandson- just to break the tension. The listless sorrow in Trip's profile prevented him for doing that, however, so he just lowered the cup of ice chips and spoon with a sigh of frustration. "If you feel up to it, we could talk about it."

Trip shot him a furtive but empty glance; the way one turns to look briefly at a far off yell or a birdcall that interrupts a conversation.

Jon couldn't stand to see someone he loved in so much pain. He could feel the hurt in his own heart, seeing Trip hurt that way. "I know you, Trip. You're going to add this to you pile of sorrows and let them build up until you finally crack, letting everything out, perhaps at the most inopportune time. I did the same thing when my dad died, and you practically punched me to stop me from taking out my hurt and frustration on everyone else. Remember how I screamed and threw that model at you and how you calmly told me that I was overindulged, living in a house where there was always someone around to fix objects I threw around in a temper tantrum? Remember how I just broke down crying because you reminded me how my dad used to fix everything even if it was just talking about my personal problems and he wasn't going to be there to do that anymore? And you said it was okay, because you're an engineer too and you could fix it? Well, I might have ended up a starship captain, but I'm the son of a damn good engineer so I should be able to fix things up too."

"I know I've been negligent recently. I wasn't there when you went back to Florida. I let you go on holding everything in, assuring myself that with Phlox and T'Pol's help, you'd be alright. I convinced myself that you didn't need me when I knew how badly you were hurting. I was too damn preoccupied with this godforsaken mission to think about the other things that are important to me. You're important to me, Trip, and I want to help make this better. And we can save ourselves some time and whole lot of hurt if we face it right now, rather than letting it fester anymore."

Trip turned to face Jon, opening the floodgates and unleashing the power of his unrestrained anguish, all in his unblinking gaze. Jon hunched over just slightly, feeling Trip's grief like a punch to the gut. Still, he was determined to hold Trip's gaze and absorb his pain. It was the least he could do.

Trip's voice was like cold steel, solid and unmoving, but still able to resonate with a tremulous reverberation when struck. "This isn't something you can fix, Jon. Evi's dead. He died in my arms." Despite Trip's best efforts to maintain a matter of fact tone, Jon saw the prelude of waves of emotion building in the hazy blue sea of his eyes.

"I know" he replied, equally matter-of-fact.

Trip clenched and unclenched his fists in the blankets now pooled around his waist. "Like Lizzie, he died for my mistakes."

"Lizzie didn't die for your mistakes, Trip." Jon tried to put the air of command into his voice, though his heart was breaking seeing for the first time the depth of pain both he and Trip had been ignoring in the wake of her death.

"She died because we're out here, Jon. I know that now we have to fight, but if we had just stayed... like the Anatman, not let our curiosity get the better of us, those people would still be alive." His argument was quiet, not the usually impassioned speech that came out even over the smallest things, like trying to convince T'Pol that eating corn on the cob with her hands would make it taste better.

Jon reached out to grab Trip's shoulders, imploring him. "Listen to me Trip. You trust me, right?"

Trip nodded solemnly.

"No one died because of you. You didn't want them to die. You didn't release the weapon on Earth and you didn't attack the Anatman. That was the Xindi." He couldn't contain the fury in his voice as he snarled the last word. The Xindi. He would make them pay for what they did, even if he had to die in the process.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted it or not, Jon. Even now, knowing the outcome, I'm not sure if I would have decided differently. Evi died to save Enterprise, Lizzie died for exploration. I cared for them both, but were they necessary sacrifices? I mean, Earth versus Evi's life, Jon. Which one would you choose?"

Jon knew what he would choose. He'd already chosen Earth over the lives of others. He chose Earth over Sim's life, and he chose Earth over the life of the man he threatened to flush out the airlock if he didn't cooperate. So what if Evi was a smiling and guileless pacifist? He was a single being. The human race was more important. They both knew the answer; he didn't need to confirm that he was slowly losing sight of things, not being able to see the trees through the forest. "Trip, Evi made his own decision. I'm sure he was more aware of the risks than even you were."

"Does it matter? He died to save us, some aliens from a far away planet, who he met only by chance."

"Maybe he was destined to meet us."

"Jonathan Archer, the atheist, talking about predetermination; I thought I'd never see the day." Trip snorted in disbelief.

"I've seen lot since those days. Besides, if you believe in time-travel, and 'preserving the timeline' you've got to believe that there is one 'right' future, and if you can go there, then it's got to be predetermined."

"So what if it was fated? It went against all of his beliefs. I'm not sure I really understand, but he cut himself off from his people by acting as an individual and violating their ideals. They could have healed him, but he wasn't one of them anymore, something about the chemicals in his body. He didn't say it, but I know he died for me. He wanted to help us because he knew I was going to die. And I was too fucking narrow-minded to love him back. He had to die so I could overcome my prejudices!" Trip was gradually becoming more agitated, his voice shaking along with the bone-deep shudders that seem to wrack his suddenly delicate frame. "I mean, does it matter whether or not he was a man or a woman? He gave his life because he loved me." Trip hung his head, and Jon reached out to stroke his shaking arms, noticing that even in his anger, the tears refused to fall.

"Were you in love with him?" Jon asked quietly, trying to keep the hurt and the accusation from his voice. But he knew his eyes were hardened, his whole body tense.

Trip hesitated, wrapping arms around himself and pushing Jon away. Jon moved to get yet another extra blanket from the closet. "No."

Jon wrapped the blanket securely around the shivering form, allowing his hands to linger. "Are you sure?"

Trip paused again, sending him a look of intense pain, even through the fog of his internal musings, "I just met him, so there's no way I was in love with him. But I could have fallen in love with him. I definitely felt a connection unlike anything I've ever felt before."

"Phlox says the Anatman release chemicals that make you feel calm." Jesus, I sound like T'Pol, trying to logically justify my way out of this one.

"It was more than that, Jon. He reminded me of all the beauty in life. He made me forget this mess we're in for just a few seconds. It was as though he opened my eyes to a whole new world. I felt free, alive for the first time since Lizzie died. It was almost as though he helped me to see a whole new part of myself, just by being with him. I don't know if it was love, Jon, but I would have come back for him. Hell, if circumstances were different I might have even stayed."

Jon couldn't help but gape. Trip had a habit of falling hard and fast, but where had all of his fears gone? It was as though Trip had completely forgotten Evi's gender. And he would have stayed? He would have left Jon behind for an alien? Then again, it was easy to say now that Evi was dead and it would never happen. "You're not serious."

Trip shrugged, that small motion seeming to jump-start a small convulsion of shivers. Jon didn't think there were any more blankets, so he moved to the bed and wrapped an arm around his friend, trying to soothe away the shaking with gently rhythmic strokes up and down his back and along his arms.

"What about space?" He could here the tremors in his own voice, unrelated to the convulsions of Trip's body shaking against him. The question he really wanted to ask was: 'What about me?'

"Look at where space has gotten us. Without Enterprise, those seven million people might still be alive." Trip heaved a weary sigh, "He asked me not fight, to stay with the Anatman, all of us. If you had stayed too, there would have been nothing stopping me." Trip turned, focusing on Jon and allowing him to see the intense guilt he was obviously too weak to hide. "For a split second I considered it. If we had, he wouldn't be dead."

Jon fought to keep his voice calm. What happened to the determined Trip Tucker, the one who would do anything to stop the Xindi from taking other people's family members they way the took his? Evi's death seemed to gut even his last focus on the world around him. "We need to fight," Jon said evenly.

"I know, it's just...wouldn't it be nice to live like the Anatman? Safe to be whomever you want to be? Loved by all simply for being who you are? No war, no Xindi..."

"No exploration. No protection."

"They have their defenses," Trip replied with a listless shrug.

"And when those defenses fail, Trip? The Anatman have been living a dream. Today they stepped into reality and couldn't handle it."

"That was Evi's decision. The Anatman would have let us die but he acted against the will of the others and he paid the price. Don't belittle that decision, Jon." The warning was clear even in Trip's hoarse voice.

"I'm not, Trip. But what happens when the Xindi's technology develops beyond the Anatman? You know as well as I do that technological innovation never develops faster than in desperate times, like wartime. And exploration certainly helps."

"Unless the first race you discover is the Vulcans." Trip said with a convulsive laugh.

If he wasn't so glad to hear even that small tragic laugh, Jon would have argued. It was not the discovery of the Vulcans that hurt them. In fact, first contact had done more to develop their society than anything else. Still, Trip was right, once the Vulcans stuck their pointy ears in, they couldn't keep them out, and that certainly did slow them down. But who knows what kind of horrible future might have awaited if they had never met the Vulcans?

Trip's shaking had finally increased to a dangerous level, and he was clinging to Jon with such a ferocious intensity that if he weren't in such a weakened state, would have left bruises. Jon eyed the hypo of sedative Phlox had left, knowing that Trip would have none of it. He had started the ball rolling, after all. He'd just have to wait it out.

"God, Jonny, it's just too much! First Lizzie, now Evi! Is everyone I care about destined to die?" Trip cried out desperately.

Jon gripped his friend's shoulder tighter, softening his voice. "Hey, I'm still alive."

"Yeah, for how long? I almost saw you die today along with Malcolm and Travis and most everyone else on this ship." Trip said morosely, subconsciously returning Jon's embrace with an arm wrapped delicately around his waist.

"I thought I was the one who had to sit in sickbay for three hours watching the doctor hook you up to all sorts of machines and dump a school of leeches and worms and other creepy crawlies down every orifice."

"Every orifice?" At least Trip was still with it enough to look terrified.

Jon only nodded, trying to force the disgusting memories back into submission. "It was hard for me to see you like that. I felt so helpless."

"It's okay, Jonny, I'm still here," Trip said, pulling himself closer and resting his head against Jon's shoulder. Even after everything that's happened, he's still able to comfort me, Jon thought, laughing inwardly at the irony, until Trip continued. "I'm not sure I deserve to still be here, but I am."

Jon reached up to grab Trip's chin and force him to meet his eyes, "Don't you dare say that, Charles Tucker. You deserve to be here. You're destined to be here. I don't care what you say, I thank every higher power an atheist can that you are, because I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. So even if your only purpose in life is to keep me going, you're doing some good."

"Evi was a better person that I am. I've made so many mistakes. I've already directly caused the deaths of two beings, not counting Evi and Lizzie. I killed the cogenitor and I killed Sim."

"First of all, the cogenitor chose suicide, you didn't force anything."

"But you said..."

"I said you made a mistake. I didn't mean that you killed anyone. Second of all, if anyone killed Sim, I did. You were in a coma at the time, so I don't really see how you could have done anything. Sim chose to give his life for you. Like you said, don't belittle his sacrifice. And even if all of those people were more moral or worthy from whatever cockeyed scale you're judging by, you're the one that's here. You're the one that we need for this mission to succeed. You're my best friend and the one that keeps me sane, so you'd better stop wallowing in self-pity and remember the people for what they were not for what you supposedly did to them."

"But they're still dead." Trip said simply, and Jon finally felt the cold rush of tears spread through his t-shirt and onto his body-warmed flesh. The sobs crescendoed as Jon reached down to run his fingers through Trip's sweat-damped hair. "It's as though I can feel the light of the world draining away. All of the people who experienced joy in simple things, who were guilty of nothing more than living life, are the ones that die, while those of us that have committed crimes are allowed to live. How is that fair?!"

"The universe isn't always fair. Maybe our punishment is to live on without them. But our redemption is to try and stop more people like them from dying. And we're going to, Trip. We're going to beat the Xindi and keep the light in this world. No matter what, we've got to keep fighting."

"I'm just so damn tired of fighting," came the muffled refrain.

"I know, me too. But we're going to, for all those people. We'll redeem them. No matter what."

"No matter what," Trip vowed through a storm of tears. He clasped Jon tighter, shaking and crying until the weakened muscles were just too tired to maintain his grief and his sobs were just shuddering breaths. Jon decided that the hypo probably wouldn't be necessary after all and laid him down, preparing to extricate himself from the slackening tangle of limbs.

Trip's breathing was evening out, but he was apparently still awake when Jon hit the light switch above his bed because he whispered, "Jon?"

"Yes, Trip?"

"Stay?"

"Of course." Jon settled down beside his friend, giving his a quick kiss on the forehead and letting Trip lay his head down on a still tear-stained shoulder. Jon should have been surprised at how well their bodies fit together, but in his heart he had known they would for a long time. Trip stretched an arm possessively over Jon's chest, gripping him tight even in sleep, the soft flutter of his breathing soothing to Jon's ears despite the slight wheeze, the aftermath of so many tears.

Jon sighed. It just felt so natural to hold Trip in his arms this way. It was the same as that time in the desert. It almost felt...well...fated.

CHAPTER 19

Trip always thought the moment he truly fell in love would be like lightning. He thought it would be lights flashing and violins playing and a mix of a thousand sensations. He thought that when he met the person he was supposed to be with he would just know, the future would be sealed, inescapable and magical: a path laid out for him like the movement of the constellations through the night sky.

This wasn't awe-inspiring or mystical, it crept up on him like a contented sigh, common but comfortable. In fact, he found love in a single deep breath. Finding himself curled up next to Jon, a strong arm wrapped protectively but delicately around his waist, the soft warmth of his breath blowing through Trip's hair in a stunningly natural way; all he had to do was inhale. It was like his first breath, routine and utterly instinctual, yet special somehow. He inhaled, realizing that Jon smelled of hazelnut and cinnamon, a waking dream.

He'd loved Jon in his dreams for so long now, never allowing himself to see it. Sure, Jon was a necessary part of his existence. He was the one person he could bare his soul to, even the dark parts that he kept hidden under the friendly exterior. He somehow made Trip a better person by his mere presence. Trip had known all these things for a long time, his subconscious tying them together into love long before he was willing to admit it. And now he was finally allowing himself to see the final piece of the puzzle: that something more, nagging beyond all explanation, but seemingly inundating every sensation, as though it was the very basis of his existence. He was in love with Jon; that was who he was and he was just finding himself.

Perhaps this utterly underwhelming moment wasn't falling in love. Perhaps he had fallen in love long ago, so slowly and subtly that he never even noticed. This was just coming to realize what was clearly there, hiding in plain sight behind the veil of his prejudices. But what did it matter? He was in love with Jon.

He flinched. This was Jon he was talking about: his captain, his best friend, a man. Yeah, he would have done something with Evi. In fact, he had done something with Evi, but Evi was an alien. The Anatman would never have judged him for falling in love with another man. They never would have treated him as 'other,' none of them would ever fear him the way he feared Evi when they first kissed.

And then there was the whole not being attracted to men thing.

But women always thought Jon was attractive. In fact he'd admired those wide shoulders and trim physique a thousand times, mostly wishing that he himself wasn't so damn skinny. And Jon certainly had a certain intensity in those bright green eyes, the charisma of a great commander. From the moment they met, Trip had seen in Jon the ability to make others believe in him. It was this inexplicable chemistry that led Trip to make the most reckless move of his career on the small hope that they might continue the warp program, all out of trust placed in a man he'd known for less than a week! Whatever it was that drew them together had only intensified over the years until it really was only the two of them against the universe.

But none of that mattered, because Jon was straight. In all the years they'd known each other he had never once seen Jon show interest in another man; in fact he seemed to almost avoid looking at men. They had been best friends for years; surely he would have said something by now. Hell, they'd been picking up women together for nearly a decade. Jon was definitely straight.

So this it was what it felt like to find love and then have your heart broken in the very next instant! Two aches in his heart, one transcendent and beautiful and the other its dark mirror, the sharp pain of unrequited love. It seemed the universe was too cruel. First it punished him by taking Evi away from him the second he realized how special he was, then it allowed him to fall in love with the one person Trip knew well enough to know he couldn't have.

Then again, Evi had shown him the need to confront prejudice. Jon had certainly never been as uncomfortable about homosexuality as he had. He didn't think he would lose him to homophobia the same way he had let go of Randy, but he wasn't sure he was willing to take that risk, especially when he was sure Jon was straight.

Just because he's straight doesn't mean he's not open. A voice in his head chimed in. *Jon is an explorer after all.* Trip groaned, even his inner voice couldn't refrain from lewd double-entendres. So there might be a small chance, but did Jon really need him to put this on him when they barely had time to be friends recently? They were here to fight the Xindi; personal problems automatically went on the back burner.

Besides, how did you even approach a man? He couldn't even use one of his fail-safe but cheesy pick-up lines; Jon had already heard them all. And it wouldn't even do justice to the man. Nothing he could ever say possibly could. And he couldn't waltz around wearing an attention grabbing shirt and a thousand-watt smile, because Jon knew that trick too. He couldn't even do the let's-get-to-know-each-other-as-friends thing, because they had already been friends through situations that no other humans had ever even faced.

He couldn't afford to do this. His world was already crumbling around him. They probably weren't even going to survive the next few weeks anyway. He could bury himself in work, deal with Captain Archer as he had been doing so well ever since they entered the Expanse. He didn't care if this meant that he might never truly find himself; he had better things to do. The last thing Enterprise needed was a captain and a chief engineer too preoccupied with their own personal romantic problems to focus on the needs of the ship and Earth.

Maybe if they survived this he would confess his undying love, Jon would agree after some convincing, they would have a grand wedding with the whole Tucker clan in attendance in what remained of Florida, they might adopt children, spend time exploring their very own planet, grow old together, tell jokes in bed, cook meals for each other when one was sick, conspire against the still far too intrusive paparazzi, enjoy long walks on the beach and candlelight dinners, take a honeymoon on Risa when losing clothes wouldn't be a problem...but this was all fantasy.

He had to stop thinking about this. Earth versus a small chance of happiness for Jonny and Trip. Earth still wins hands down. That was his justification, at least.

CHAPTER 20

Jon guided Mita down the narrow corridors, amazed at how she seemed to make them look out of place in their unnatural heartless grey, when in truth she was the out-of-place interloper. She wore a crystal around her neck that glowed spectacularly, illuminating the space around her with a far more natural light than seemed possible on a starship, almost as though she had her very own piece of the sun to take with her. Despite its brightness, Jon did not find it hard to look at her, noting the delicate curve of her smile, and the near enchanting beauty of her open features. In fact, she reminded him of the creatures of myth, the mysterious but wise wood nymphs, queen of the fairy-people, perhaps--though Trip would claim that roll was reserved for the pointy-eared T'Pol.

Her voice was equally enthralling, peaceful and majestic, curling around him as naturally as the fog rolling into the quiet dawn of the Bay. "It is good to finally meet you, Captain. It is unfortunate that it must be under such circumstances." Mita smiled sadly.

"I couldn't agree more..." What should he call her? "...Mita."

"How is Commander Tucker?"

"He's asleep right now," Jon said with a sigh, remembering the deeply slumbering form he had left that morning. It had been magical, waking with Trip in his arms after all these years, cuddled close and clinging to him in a soft bed. He had taken just a few moments to inhale his musky scent and run fingers through his fine golden hair, forgetting that these were stolen moments and fleeting pleasures, a sweet taste of what he would never have when his friend was in his right mind. It had taken all of his strength to pull away and exit that world of bittersweet illusion. "He'll recover."

"This one is pleased to hear it. Though this one did not have the opportunity to spend much time with him, it was obvious Evi grew quite fond of him."

Quite fond, indeed, his inner voice grumbled. Was it wrong to be jealous of a dead man? Jon pushed those thoughts from his mind, letting the sympathetic pain of seeing Trip grieve for the Anatman wash over him.

"I didn't know the two of you were close. I'm sorry."

"It always hurts to lose one voice of your own people, no matter whose it is."

"And it always hurts to know that innocents have died in a fight not their own." Jon sighed, thinking of the thousands that died on Earth, including Trip's sister. He felt the familiar hatred welling up from within him. He wanted to utterly destroy those who caused the man he loved pain, doubled now with Evi's death. And for what? They still didn't really know.

Mita turned to face him, beautiful teal eyes brighter even than the rich shades of the brilliant sky. She laid a hand delicately on his cheek, and he felt the anger drain from him, to be replaced with a quiet peace. Memories, long forgotten, tumbling back from the precipice of the past: strolling through the streets of San Francisco and whistling, not caring who was watching, the day he was given command of Enterprise; sitting on the shore of a minuscule island in the Everglades, clothes soaked up to his waist as he and Trip joked and fished; seeing his ship for the first time, complete in space dock; building a model spaceship in the warmth of his father's old workshop.

Mita smiled, after conjuring up nostalgia for his lost innocence, "There are no innocents, Captain. Evi made his choice and he reaped the consequences. Nothing we can do will change that. His act was heroic. To say that he was an innocent would belittle that heroism. We are silently complicitous, blissfully nave at best. The Anatman are as guilty of the destruction of your world as the Xindi, even if we did not wish it. We did not stop it, just as we did not stop the destruction of their own world or ours. Sometimes this one wishes that the Anatman would have the courage to step from the light as Evi did, though we can never condone that one's actions. There is a part of us that suffers for the destruction our refusal to act reaped on Earth and on the ourselves."

"But it would have contradicted all of your beliefs to interfere."

"From what T'Pol tells me of your history, it seems that you would have a more advanced species interfere." She looked at him pointedly. Yes, he had believed that the Vulcans should have helped humans rather than getting in their way, but his views had changed when faced with similar decisions.

Mita continued, "You may not react the same way to us because all you have seen from us is cooperation, but if you knew the true cost of our pacifism you would hate us as you once did the Vulcans."

"What was the price?"

"The death of so many of what you called innocents with the destruction of our home world. We could have stopped it, if we had simply given the Xindi our solar technology rather than made them create their own. We could have stopped the attack on Earth. Yes, we did know about it. All it would have required was the destruction of a key weapons development facility. But no one was willing to get blood on their hands, to destroy the lives of a few Xindi to save millions of an unknown species. In doing nothing, do we have those deaths on our heads? We thought the light years that separated us would cleanse the blood away, but it remains."

Somehow, Jon couldn't find it in himself to be angry. He had been angry at himself for not being able to do anything to protect Earth; he had hated the Xindi; he had blamed Earthgov for not taking better security measures; blamed the Vulcans for not joining them on their quest for vengeance. But he was tired of all this burning ire. Perhaps it had finally consumed him, because he couldn't bring himself to hate more, especially not the peaceful Anatman. "There's a line between choosing to do something and not interfering. You didn't send that weapon to Earth, you didn't construct it."

"No, but we put the Xindi in space. We unlocked the gate to a whole new battlefield for their hatred and their paranoia."

"Because you wanted to keep them from killing themselves."

"Perhaps it would have been best if they had." Mita's eyes closed. He could almost feel the guilt radiating from her, deep and dark like a stormy night at sea. He could just smell the crisp crack of the lightning bolts. But the storm soon calmed, "But the point this one is trying to make, Captain, is that the Anatman are not innocent. And perhaps those that died on Earth were not innocent either, for they played equal roles in your society. This burden is not on your head alone, Captain, but on everyone that has participated in the smallest way in the creation of this present. Find out why the Xindi really attacked Earth before you take your vengeance."

Jon looked her over carefully. "Do you know something you're not telling me?"

"How do you know humans don't cause the future destruction of the Xindi?"

"We're not that kind of people." He snapped defensively.

"You can't predict the future, Captain. Think of the things you've done since you entered the Expanse. Would you have predicted that you could ever do some of them?"

"No. But it was for the survival of my people."

"And if push came to shove, would you destroy the Xindi to save your people?" She fixed him with a knowing stare. There would be no lying to her.

"I..."

"You or them, who would you choose?"

"Us."

"Is it reasonable to assume that they could legitimately choose themselves over you?"

"Yes."

"Then they would be justified in attacking you in order to save themselves?"

He hesitated, but there was only one answer that could rescue him from hypocrisy. "Yes. But we never would have even met the Xindi if they hadn't. They're the ones who've forced us into this position."

"We don't know that. All we know is that they believed the threat Earth posed would lead their destruction, and they acted in a manner both of your species would deem acceptable."

"You're saying we should just do nothing and wait for them to destroy us, because they're acting to save their people?"

"No, Captain. It's far too late for that. Besides, the Anatman have proven that pacifism can be just a cruel and just as disastrous. Every living being, whether plant or animal, makes choices, some regulated by simple biological destiny, others more complex, but each one having consequences. Even if your decision is to do nothing, it still has consequences. No matter what choice we make, we are all guilty of writing the future. The path you are walking now will make that future when you are a threat to them true. Perhaps you can show them that that future will never occur."

"But that would leave us vulnerable..."

"There are no innocents, Captain, but that does not mean there can't be heroes. Calm yourself now, and prepare for what is to come."

Mita turned to face him, laying cool hands delicately on either side of his face. He felt flooded with peace, blissful, soothing, washing away all the worries of the world. He could see why his officers had become so attached to these people. Their very presence was intoxicating, calming. Somehow, in the middle of the madness of the world they managed to create a safe haven, where childlike wonder and worriless calm could be cultivated. But at what price? he wondered. How many had to die to protect their innocence? 7 million died on Earth. He pulled away, "I do not need your drugs, even if they are natural."

She looked at him solemnly, "Perhaps you should seek comfort where you can get it, Captain. There is no harm in finding simple pleasures where they are offered freely. It will not make you less of a leader when the time comes to make choices. How do you expect to alleviate the suffering of others if you cannot even do what it takes to make yourself happy?"

"I'm fighting to save my species, that's more important than my own personal happiness!" That's what he'd been telling himself for months now as he pushed the ones he loved away.

"You are not two people, Captain. The decisions you make as a man have consequences that effect the decisions you make as a leader, and vice versa. It is time that you acknowledge that, and realize that you and all of your crewmates are representing humankind to the Xindi and making choices that determine the future."

"Do you know something I don't?"

"This one knows many things you do not."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"The Anatman know much of the universe. We are part of the soil and the air and the sunlight. This one could not expect you to understand what it is to be truly connected to your environment in this way, Captain, though you might glimpse it. Unlike humans, we do not operate as 'I'--yes this one is aware of that word. We are parts of a greater whole. The secrets of the universe and the joy of being one with it have their price. And we are selfish to put our own need for unity above concern for the suffering of others at times, but we do. The universe is wise. It knows what has happened and thus what will most likely happen; because this has all happened before and will happen again. As part of the vows we take to receive this knowledge we promise not to interfere with the betterment of any other than ourselves."

"So humans will destroy the Xindi?"

She smiled a sad enigmatic smile, laying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but simultaneously making it feather-light. "That is up to you."

"But you said you could predict the future."

"We can tell you what will most likely occur if the current trends of the universe are allowed to bear fruit. But, nothing's written. We are all part of a delicate web of interactions, every decision we make affects the whole, just as every blade of grass has the ability to change the soil content and affect us all, no matter how minutely. You do not always have to fight the war as a grand storm of fury, raining buckets just to change to course of a tiny stream. Sometimes you must fight as a blade of grass."

"And how should I do that?"

"Rid yourself of hatred and prejudice, even if it brings you yourself pain. You are the representative of your kind, show them why humanity is great."

Jon could only nod at her encouraging smile.

CHAPTER 21

The first feeling Trip felt upon waking was a sudden emptiness, which was easily explained by the empty depression in the mattress beside him and the lack of Jon's comforting warmth, though his pleasant down-to-earth aroma lingered.

The second feeling was nausea. Before he could even take his second breath of Jon's intoxicating scent, he was on his feet and diving toward the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to vomit up what little he had left in his stomach, and some blood, judging by the metallic taste in his mouth.

He was about to let his head rest against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, too weak to even lever himself up and return to bed, when he felt a cool cloth on his forehead and delicate fingers rubbing calming circles on his back. He could remember that precise strength anywhere, "T'Pol?"

"Yes, Commander."

He wanted Jon, not T'Pol, damn it! "What are you doing here?" He tried not to make it an accusation, though he didn't really have to try hard, considering that a weak wheeze was the only type of sound he could really hope to produce.

"Mita wanted to meet with the captain before we broke orbit and Doctor Phlox made it clear that you were not to be left alone."

Trip blinked. Somehow he didn't expect that they would actually leave the Anatman behind, and all that he had to hold onto of Evi with them. There was a certain permanence about them. Perhaps they were a permanent fixture of the heart and mind, so much like the voice of conscience. "Oh."

"Would you like to meet with her as well?"

"No, I don't think I'm in the state to see anybody." Or really be reminded of Evi's death, he amended.

"I'm sure she will understand. After we have accomplished this mission perhaps we can return." He hoped so; he had never felt as at home--other than on Earth, of course. But his home on Earth was destroyed now anyway.

Trip panted, relaxing into T'Pol's soothing touch as another wave of nausea washed over him. She dug her fingers deep into a neuropressure point on his back and he felt the nausea subside, "Thanks."

"You are welcome, Commander."

"You've seen me at my weakest, T'Pol, would it kill you to call me Trip?" He turned, catching the end of a surprised but considerate look. I guess T'Pol was never expecting to hear me describe myself as weak. he thought.

"It would not kill me, but I would prefer to call you 'Commander.'"

"Well, you are the one holding a cool towel to my head, so I'm not going to argue with ya." He tried to smile, but it probably came out more as a wince.

She nodded and leaned over him to flush the toilet, "It seems you have prematurely expelled one of the Doctor's leeches," she remarked calmly. He cringed, peaking over the edge to see a slimy eggplant-colored creature swimming around in the toilet bowl. A new nausea enveloped him, but he didn't think it was from the radiation. "That thing was in me?"

"One of many, apparently." T'Pol said calmly, obviously enjoying the look of horror on his face. Fine, kick me when I'm down. His inner voice grumbled halfheartedly.

He thought he couldn't respect T'Pol more than for putting up with him in his current state, but she surprised him yet again by fetching a pair of tongs and a vial that Phlox had obviously left last night to rescue the wayward leech, while only showing the smallest hints of disgust. I would have run the other way and let the little monster drown, even if it was saving my life.

He studied her features for a moment, noticing the slight crinkling of her nose. This must be torture for her; he even thought he stunk. "T'Pol, ya don't have to stay."

"I must stay, Commander."

"It's illogical to stay. You can't cure me by being here. And the last thing Enterprise needs is to have both the chief engineer and the first officer experimenting with projectile vomiting."

"You are the only one indulging in projectile vomiting. I am simply here to bear witness." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he couldn't help but smile at as much of a laugh as he would ever get out of her, "And it would be illogical for me to leave a friend to suffer alone."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, "A friend?"

She removed the cloth from his forehead and pulled him effortlessly from the ground, giving him a minute to fight the nausea of standing by letting him sway against her. "I believe we have been friends for some time. Am I mistaken?"

Trip saw a slight wounded uncertainty in her bottomless brown eyes and smiled warmly at her, "Of course we are, T'Pol. I just never thought I'd hear you say it out loud is all."

"It is illogical not to acknowledge something that is plainly there."

"I agree. It's not logical, but very Vulcan."

He would have expected her to stiffen and go into defensive mode on what was a common point of contestation between them, but instead T'Pol shifted her eyes in what, in a human, would be a sigh. "The Anatman have taught me a great deal about logic, Commander. They share so much in common with Vulcan culture, yet they are a passionate people. While I may never reach or even desire a human level of irrationality, I am beginning to understand that to deny emotions that are clearly present and unavoidable is both illogical and dangerous."

Trip smiled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and taking a step forward, "I agree." But did he really? He had spent ten years denying something that was very clearly there and rationalizing it away. And now he was still too chicken to do anything about it. At least T'Pol had the courage to change. He sighed heavily.

T'Pol halted their forward progress, concern shining clear in her eyes as she turned him to face her. "Is something wrong, Commander?"

"No," he snapped defensively, his entire body tightening in her grasp, the aches and the nausea fading to a dull throb as they took a backseat to his emotional distress.

She simply fixed him with a probing stare, whispering softly, "We are friends."

Within five minutes Trip had gone from never believing that he would hear those words to having them be the most comforting things he'd ever heard. He felt the tension flow from his body as he let her guide him back to his bed. "I have a feeling we all learned something from the Anatman, T"Pol."

"What was it that you learned?" She inquired as she laid him down and sat next to him, gently rubbing the pressure she could see building at his temples.

He closed his eyes in appreciation, a meditative frown on his lips. "The same thing as you, I guess, just in a different form. If what we feel is genuine, it doesn't matter how it looks on the outside. I mean, I should have learned my lesson from you. Who would've thought I'd end up in bed with a Vulcan?" He gestured to their current position.

He felt her fingers tense for only a second at the implications of his words, but they continued their methodical movement even more self-assuredly when she asked, "Are you referring to your relationship with the captain?"

Trip's jaw dropped. His first impulse, of course, was to deny it, but T'Pol already knew. She had undoubtedly known longer than he had, and she was his friend. Somehow denial seemed both useless and plain stupid, or perhaps he was finally tired of it.

""Yes it does. How did you know?"

"I have observed you both for quite some time. Your relationship intrigued me from the first time I met the two of you. Initially I could not understand your overly familiar behavior, for the captain and his second. After I became habituated to your friendship, the first relationship of the sort I had the chance to observe closely, I realized that there was more to it. The captain seems to gaze intently at you when he believes that no one is watching. You will become visibly calmer when he finds you agitated. Perhaps most evident is the effect you have on others when you are together."

"At first I believed this was typical of friendship, but then I had a chance to observe other friendships. You and Lieutenant Reed, Ensigns Mayweather and Sato, Crewman Cutler and Ensign Janssen, they do not possess the same preternatural awareness of each other's movements, the same intimacy in the smallest gestures. It is almost as the two of you are one, yet you seem to waste so much time and energy fighting this, trying to appear unbiased for the crew when you are clearly biased."

Trip had simply been staring at her until that point, both dismayed that she had been so attuned to the emotions of those around her and understanding that T'Pol always kept her cards close to her chest, so-to-speak. But no one could accuse him and Jon of impropriety while on duty and get away with it, "We have never let our personal relationship, whatever you might decide to call it, interfere with our decisions as Starfleet officers!" he yelled, causing a wave of pain and nausea to explode through his brain. He brought his hands up to press down above his eyes, "Son of a bitch. Shouldnt've done that." Her only response was the raise of an eyebrow and the gloating cock of her head.

T'Pol didn't continue for a moment or two, waiting for him to calm before she spoke, "The Captain created a mimetic clone in order to save your life." He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued deliberately unnoticing. "You became extremely agitated when you believed that I intended to leave him behind on our first mission together. You struggled to act against him when he was clearly acting unusually irrationally while under the influence of the Xindi eggs. He dragged you through the desert and sublimated his own health and chances of survival to save you. You ..."

Trip laid a hand on her thigh to signal her to stop. He could barely summon the strength to answer. He felt as though he were drowning in a sea of pain, as though he had never known and would never know peace. "So no matter what we do we're not fit for duty."

"I did not mean to imply anything of the sort, Commander."

"Then what did you mean to imply?" he snapped.

"I wished to demonstrate the futility in avoiding something that would clearly make the two of you happy. Denial is not just emotional and illogical; it is simply stupid."

He let the weariness overtake him with an exasperated sigh, "Where are ya goin' with all of this T'Pol?"

"Both yourself and the captain are my friends, thus I am concerned about your happiness. The captain has clearly desired you for some time. I do not see what you stand to lose by reciprocating these feelings."

"I wish it were that simple, T'Pol. What if I'm just confused? What if Evi's death has somehow guilted me into believing I'm bisexual? What if after all these years I've missed my chance with him? What if I mess this up and ruin our friendship?" He closed his eyes in horror at the thought. "I truly don't think I could live without it."

"Even in the most banal acts we choose to undertake, there are risks. Logically we take risks based on the potential gain, possible loss and probability of a successful outcome. While the costs of mistake are high, both the probability of success and potential rewards would seem to considerably outweigh them. The only logical course of action would be to act on your desires. I believe humans employ the terminology, 'it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.'"

Trip's jaw dropped. T'Pol was the last person he ever expected to hear utter those words, but then again, the Anatman seemed to have had a huge effect on her. She was just surprising him at every turn today. Or maybe it was the drugs and those creepy crawlies Phlox stuck in him when he was unconscious. Well, whatever the source, T'Pol had a point. "In other words, I should stop being such a chicken-shit and just go with it."

For a second she seemed to struggle with distaste for his terminology, but in the end she met his eyes and simply stated. "Yes."

Who was he to argue with Vulcan logic?

CHAPTER 21

The first feeling Trip felt upon waking was a sudden emptiness, which was easily explained by the empty depression in the mattress beside him and the lack of Jon's comforting warmth, though his pleasant down-to-earth aroma lingered.

The second feeling was nausea. Before he could even take his second breath of Jon's intoxicating scent, he was on his feet and diving toward the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to vomit up what little he had left in his stomach, and some blood, judging by the metallic taste in his mouth.

He was about to let his head rest against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, too weak to even lever himself up and return to bed, when he felt a cool cloth on his forehead and delicate fingers rubbing calming circles on his back. He could remember that precise strength anywhere, "T'Pol?"

"Yes, Commander."

He wanted Jon, not T'Pol, damn it! "What are you doing here?" He tried not to make it an accusation, though he didn't really have to try hard, considering that a weak wheeze was the only type of sound he could really hope to produce.

"Mita wanted to meet with the captain before we broke orbit and Doctor Phlox made it clear that you were not to be left alone."

Trip blinked. Somehow he didn't expect that they would actually leave the Anatman behind, and all that he had to hold onto of Evi with them. There was a certain permanence about them. Perhaps they were a permanent fixture of the heart and mind, so much like the voice of conscience. "Oh."

"Would you like to meet with her as well?"

"No, I don't think I'm in the state to see anybody." Or really be reminded of Evi's death, he amended.

"I'm sure she will understand. After we have accomplished this mission perhaps we can return." He hoped so; he had never felt as at home--other than on Earth, of course. But his home on Earth was destroyed now anyway.

Trip panted, relaxing into T'Pol's soothing touch as another wave of nausea washed over him. She dug her fingers deep into a neuropressure point on his back and he felt the nausea subside, "Thanks."

"You are welcome, Commander."

"You've seen me at my weakest, T'Pol, would it kill you to call me Trip?" He turned, catching the end of a surprised but considerate look. I guess T'Pol was never expecting to hear me describe myself as weak. he thought.

"It would not kill me, but I would prefer to call you 'Commander.'"

"Well, you are the one holding a cool towel to my head, so I'm not going to argue with ya." He tried to smile, but it probably came out more as a wince.

She nodded and leaned over him to flush the toilet, "It seems you have prematurely expelled one of the Doctor's leeches," she remarked calmly. He cringed, peaking over the edge to see a slimy eggplant-colored creature swimming around in the toilet bowl. A new nausea enveloped him, but he didn't think it was from the radiation. "That thing was in me?"

"One of many, apparently." T'Pol said calmly, obviously enjoying the look of horror on his face. Fine, kick me when I'm down. His inner voice grumbled halfheartedly.

He thought he couldn't respect T'Pol more than for putting up with him in his current state, but she surprised him yet again by fetching a pair of tongs and a vial that Phlox had obviously left last night to rescue the wayward leech, while only showing the smallest hints of disgust. I would have run the other way and let the little monster drown, even if it was saving my life.

He studied her features for a moment, noticing the slight crinkling of her nose. This must be torture for her; he even thought he stunk. "T'Pol, ya don't have to stay."

"I must stay, Commander."

"It's illogical to stay. You can't cure me by being here. And the last thing Enterprise needs is to have both the chief engineer and the first officer experimenting with projectile vomiting."

"You are the only one indulging in projectile vomiting. I am simply here to bear witness." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he couldn't help but smile at as much of a laugh as he would ever get out of her, "And it would be illogical for me to leave a friend to suffer alone."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, "A friend?"

She removed the cloth from his forehead and pulled him effortlessly from the ground, giving him a minute to fight the nausea of standing by letting him sway against her. "I believe we have been friends for some time. Am I mistaken?"

Trip saw a slight wounded uncertainty in her bottomless brown eyes and smiled warmly at her, "Of course we are, T'Pol. I just never thought I'd hear you say it out loud is all."

"It is illogical not to acknowledge something that is plainly there."

"I agree. It's not logical, but very Vulcan."

He would have expected her to stiffen and go into defensive mode on what was a common point of contestation between them, but instead T'Pol shifted her eyes in what, in a human, would be a sigh. "The Anatman have taught me a great deal about logic, Commander. They share so much in common with Vulcan culture, yet they are a passionate people. While I may never reach or even desire a human level of irrationality, I am beginning to understand that to deny emotions that are clearly present and unavoidable is both illogical and dangerous."

Trip smiled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and taking a step forward, "I agree." But did he really? He had spent ten years denying something that was very clearly there and rationalizing it away. And now he was still too chicken to do anything about it. At least T'Pol had the courage to change. He sighed heavily.

T'Pol halted their forward progress, concern shining clear in her eyes as she turned him to face her. "Is something wrong, Commander?"

"No," he snapped defensively, his entire body tightening in her grasp, the aches and the nausea fading to a dull throb as they took a backseat to his emotional distress.

She simply fixed him with a probing stare, whispering softly, "We are friends."

Within five minutes Trip had gone from never believing that he would hear those words to having them be the most comforting things he'd ever heard. He felt the tension flow from his body as he let her guide him back to his bed. "I have a feeling we all learned something from the Anatman, T"Pol."

"What was it that you learned?" She inquired as she laid him down and sat next to him, gently rubbing the pressure she could see building at his temples.

He closed his eyes in appreciation, a meditative frown on his lips. "The same thing as you, I guess, just in a different form. If what we feel is genuine, it doesn't matter how it looks on the outside. I mean, I should have learned my lesson from you. Who would've thought I'd end up in bed with a Vulcan?" He gestured to their current position.

He felt her fingers tense for only a second at the implications of his words, but they continued their methodical movement even more self-assuredly when she asked, "Are you referring to your relationship with the captain?"

Trip's jaw dropped. His first impulse, of course, was to deny it, but T'Pol already knew. She had undoubtedly known longer than he had, and she was his friend. Somehow denial seemed both useless and plain stupid, or perhaps he was finally tired of it.

""Yes it does. How did you know?"

"I have observed you both for quite some time. Your relationship intrigued me from the first time I met the two of you. Initially I could not understand your overly familiar behavior, for the captain and his second. After I became habituated to your friendship, the first relationship of the sort I had the chance to observe closely, I realized that there was more to it. The captain seems to gaze intently at you when he believes that no one is watching. You will become visibly calmer when he finds you agitated. Perhaps most evident is the effect you have on others when you are together."

"At first I believed this was typical of friendship, but then I had a chance to observe other friendships. You and Lieutenant Reed, Ensigns Mayweather and Sato, Crewman Cutler and Ensign Janssen, they do not possess the same preternatural awareness of each other's movements, the same intimacy in the smallest gestures. It is almost as the two of you are one, yet you seem to waste so much time and energy fighting this, trying to appear unbiased for the crew when you are clearly biased."

Trip had simply been staring at her until that point, both dismayed that she had been so attuned to the emotions of those around her and understanding that T'Pol always kept her cards close to her chest, so-to-speak. But no one could accuse him and Jon of impropriety while on duty and get away with it, "We have never let our personal relationship, whatever you might decide to call it, interfere with our decisions as Starfleet officers!" he yelled, causing a wave of pain and nausea to explode through his brain. He brought his hands up to press down above his eyes, "Son of a bitch. Shouldnt've done that." Her only response was the raise of an eyebrow and the gloating cock of her head.

T'Pol didn't continue for a moment or two, waiting for him to calm before she spoke, "The Captain created a mimetic clone in order to save your life." He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued deliberately unnoticing. "You became extremely agitated when you believed that I intended to leave him behind on our first mission together. You struggled to act against him when he was clearly acting unusually irrationally while under the influence of the Xindi eggs. He dragged you through the desert and sublimated his own health and chances of survival to save you. You ..."

Trip laid a hand on her thigh to signal her to stop. He could barely summon the strength to answer. He felt as though he were drowning in a sea of pain, as though he had never known and would never know peace. "So no matter what we do we're not fit for duty."

"I did not mean to imply anything of the sort, Commander."

"Then what did you mean to imply?" he snapped.

"I wished to demonstrate the futility in avoiding something that would clearly make the two of you happy. Denial is not just emotional and illogical; it is simply stupid."

He let the weariness overtake him with an exasperated sigh, "Where are ya goin' with all of this T'Pol?"

"Both yourself and the captain are my friends, thus I am concerned about your happiness. The captain has clearly desired you for some time. I do not see what you stand to lose by reciprocating these feelings."

"I wish it were that simple, T'Pol. What if I'm just confused? What if Evi's death has somehow guilted me into believing I'm bisexual? What if after all these years I've missed my chance with him? What if I mess this up and ruin our friendship?" He closed his eyes in horror at the thought. "I truly don't think I could live without it."

"Even in the most banal acts we choose to undertake, there are risks. Logically we take risks based on the potential gain, possible loss and probability of a successful outcome. While the costs of mistake are high, both the probability of success and potential rewards would seem to considerably outweigh them. The only logical course of action would be to act on your desires. I believe humans employ the terminology, 'it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.'"

Trip's jaw dropped. T'Pol was the last person he ever expected to hear utter those words, but then again, the Anatman seemed to have had a huge effect on her. She was just surprising him at every turn today. Or maybe it was the drugs and those creepy crawlies Phlox stuck in him when he was unconscious. Well, whatever the source, T'Pol had a point. "In other words, I should stop being such a chicken-shit and just go with it."

For a second she seemed to struggle with distaste for his terminology, but in the end she met his eyes and simply stated. "Yes."

Who was he to argue with Vulcan logic?

CHAPTER 22

Trip had been sitting on his bed staring into space ever since T'Pol left to say her goodbyes to Mita; though only after he repeatedly assured her he could survive the five minutes it would take for Jon to take her place. Who would have thought T'Pol could be such a mother hen? Then again, who though T'Pol could ever argue in favor of true love? His timid inner self contested the things she had said, rather pathetically in his opinion. Perhaps this was the one argument he really hoped T'Pol would win.

He had resolved to tell him. The second Jonny walked through that door he was going find out about what he thought about it, and then, hopefully, kiss him senseless. In fact, there was no way Jon was going to escape without a smoldering kiss. It momentarily crossed his mind that he might wait for the painkillers to wear off before he did anything rash, but those thoughts were banished from his mind the second a tall strong form strode purposely through the door. Trip seemed to lose the ability to speak, seeing the look of love on those strong features. Jon was so worried about him; it showed in every taunt muscle! So what if it might only be brotherly love? It was a start.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was soft, so filled with concern that Trip felt his heart melting.

"Fine." He wanted to say, 'wonderful, ecstatic, overjoyed, fantastic, brilliant, amazing, now that you're here,' but that might be coming on a little strong. Besides, his stomach seemed to know it wasn't entirely true, because it picked that moment to hit him with another bout of dizziness. He winced.

Jon rolled his eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Malcolm. Why couldn't you pick up on his finer qualities like order and discipline instead of his penchant for immense understatement regarding his own health? I'll ask you again: how are you feeling?"

"I've felt better," he admitted, "but T'Pol did some emergency neuropressure on me while she was here and it seems to have at least gotten the nausea under control. All things considered, I'm not bad off. Where've you been?" I know that was a really lame segue, seeing as I already know the answer, but I'm sure as hell not starting by batting my eyelashes and doing the come hither wave.

"I've been talking with Mita. Did you know that the Anatman could predict the future?"

God, he wished he could predict the future now. It would be so much easier starting these things if you knew how the other person would react. "No. Did she say whether or not we're going to win?"

"Apparently it's not that precise. Either that or she doesn't want to tell me because she's trying to shape the outcome."

"I hope she succeeds. I want us to complete this mission."

"Me too."

There was a slight silence. Jon didn't seem to mind, but Trip couldn't stop playing with the bed-sheets in paranoia. It had never been awkward with Jon, and he wasn't going to make it awkward now. "You never did tell me what you thought about the Anatman's lack of gender distinctions." So his segues could actually get lamer; he stifled a frown.

Jon hesitated almost imperceptibly, but Trip's hyperactive mind caught it--though he had no idea what it meant. "I'm all for it. I wish our society could be like that. People should be free to be with whomever they want to be with, regardless of their sex. And though the barriers aren't stringent now -as you yourself said- they're still there. If someone wants to try a relationship with a member of the same sex, they should be able to do it without fear of repercussion."

Well, Jon had practically told him to do it. But then again, Trip himself had practically told Evi to kiss him, and that led to him running off. But you came back, a tiny voice in his head reminded him. Too little, too late, his own sorrow insisted. Stop distracting yourself. Evi would have wanted you to do this. He would have liked to see you overcome your so-called sorrow and claim happiness. Trip steeled himself. He was going to do it. No turning back now.

We've had ten years of talk, and we might not have much more. If I'm going do it I might as well just dive right in head first, as always. Jon was giving some nervous ramble about the queer rights movement of the late twentieth century, but Trip only saw his mouth, the regal curves of his chin, his bright and compassionate -though slightly melancholy- eyes, his smoothly shaved cheeks, the familiar comforts of his deep voice. He wasn't looking at a man; he was looking at the body that reflected the soul he loved.

Trip stood up and Jon stopped talking, questions in his eyes. He probably thinks I'm going to make a run for the bathroom. Enjoy your last moments of ignorant bliss, Jonny. Jon stepped forward, reaching out to steady him, and Trip took advantage of his nearness, heart hammering in his chest as he made the final commitment.

The split seconds it took him to lean in and claim the other man's mouth felt like an eternity, but he was already committed, his own legs too weak to do anything but tumble into strong arms. The kiss was fumbling, but tender. Jon only tensed for a second before he opened his lips and returned it with controlled and almost timid caring. Before he knew it Jon's arms were wrapped around him, though that probably had more to do with the fact that he had no business even standing and that his legs were buckling.

Still, Jon only pulled away when Trip ran out of breath from the exertion. He helped Trip back to the bed silently, though there were questions written into every movement.

When Trip caught his breath, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out with the exhalation, slurring together as his accent thickened. "I know you're probably thinkin' Phlox needs to check me for brain damage or take me off some of his pain medication, but I swear I would have done that under normal circumstances...Well, I might have had to get drunk first, but I would have intended to do it under normal circumstances." He tried a winning smile. Jon kept a straight face through his ramblings and nodded, seemingly chewing on his tongue and not giving him any help at all. But he definitely didn't look horrified either. Trip took this as a signal -though a slight one- to continue.

"The Anatman, and...well...Evi, have made me think a lot, Jon. But don't think this is just some bizarre reaction to Evi's death. I just...the second I stopped excluding half the population from my relationship radar, I realized that there was something glaringly obvious I was missing. I'll understand if you don't feel the same, but I've come to realize that the reason I never fully committed myself to any of my girlfriends was not just my work but the fact that I already found someone who I wanted to spend my life with. I knew I wanted to spend my life with you a long time ago, Jonny, just exploring the stars, even though I thought it would be only as friends. In fact, I always saw us growing old together, racing our wheel chairs around the nursing home, or just enjoying a nice cold beer on the beach."

"And I left Natalie to go into space when both you and I know I could be happily tinkerin' away back at Starfleet R&D, with a pretty little wife and maybe a Charles Tucker IV running around. Did you know Forrest offered me the position of director for the new Warp 6 Program? I left the girl and the job for stress and maintenance work, not because I dreamed of being an explorer, but because we dreamed of flying your daddy's ship together."

"We both know that we're friends, stuck together until eternity. Still, I think that, if we're willing to open our minds, like the Anatman, we could be much more than that. Hell, we haven't really seen anyone besides each other for years now, perhaps it's time we took our relationship to the next level."

Jon maintained his stoic expression, though Trip could see him giving, his fingers dancing idly in his lap. Trip would give it one last push, "Look, Jon, the point is that I don't just love you; I'm in love with you. I've never done anything like this before, and I don't think you have either, but I really think we can make it work. We deserve some happiness, after all that's happened. Though I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything ya don't want. We'll stay friends no matter what."

Jon just stared.

"What'd'ya say, Jonny?"

Then something in those regal features seemed to crack, a decision was made, but Jon wasn't letting him in on the outcome just yet. "I'll be right back," Jon said mysteriously; not even his controlled but graceful movements revealing his answer. He walked into the bathroom only to return a moment later holding something. He probably wants to scan me for head trauma, Trip thought.

"Jesus, Trip!" He scowled, causing Trip to take a deep breath in. So this was the judgment he always feared, the rejection that kept him in denial all these years. Could this really be the end of their friendship? Surely Jon would never do that to him ... "You had nearly ten years, but you choose the day you've spent puking in the toilet to finally kiss me." Jon said with exasperation, handing Trip a glass of mouthwash.

The overwhelming feeling of relief that washed through him was soon overcome with laughter. He could barely hold the mouthwash steady through the giggles, not to mention use it. Jon plopped down on the bed and put his arms around Trip's waist, kissing him on the nose and laughing.

Trip smiled, seeing that whatever their relationship was now, it wasn't going to lose any of the familiar humor, or honesty. "I've always considered myself romantic," Trip responded, renewing their uncontrollable laughter, adding when he regained a modicum of composure, "I'm so sorry Jonny! That must have been really disgusting. I'm surprised you didn't push me right onto my ass! I just didn't consider... All I could think about was kissing you."

"Welcome to my life for the last ten years." Jon said with a bittersweet smile.

"Ten years?" Trip gulped.

"I wanted you from the day we met, Trip."

"But Jonny, I never saw you . . I never knew you were ..." *Wait, Jon never looked at men. He avoided looking at men, because he didn't want me to think he was gay. But he looked at me; T'Pol said so...And he never said anything, though he was perfectly comfortable around Randy, and he obviously knew...Randy? How the hell did Jon even meet Randy? He never told me. All those knowing looks and winks before that night when we went out to that gay club...Jon seemed really relaxed...and intense, like he..."Oh my God, Jonny, I'm sorry. I...you know I was never intentionally cruel, but I was so insensitive! Not to mention completely blind! I must have hurt you so much, and, God do I owe Randy an apology. Talk about hypocrisy! I don't deserve to be with you now; you shouldn't have even stayed friends with me." He buried his face in Jon's shoulder, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "I couldn't even see how my petty insecurities were hurting my best friend!" Trip choked, between a sob and a laugh, "How embarrassing."

Jon just laughed, joy radiating from his firm embrace, "Yeah it was tough, Trip, but 'good things come to those who wait.' Besides, you might want to punish yourself because your were a bit of an insensitive prick in the past, but I sure as hell am not going to deny myself exactly what I deserve for waiting all this time. Now wash your mouth; I've waited long enough."

Trip chuckled, "Insensitive prick following your orders, Sir."

He washed his mouth out thoroughly, Jon barely waiting for him to spit the mouthwash back out before snatching the cup and leaning in for another kiss. This was much more like a first kiss should be, light and sweet but barely containing the deep sea of passion and desire bleeding into it more and more by the minute. They may have left the Anatman, but Trip still felt surrounded by Jon's scent, cocooned in it and protected from all the horrors of the outside world. He had conquered his own prejudice to find his soul mate, despite all of life's obstacles. What did it matter that they might not survive the next weeks? He had Jon. That's all that mattered.

CHAPTER 23

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS PARTIALY NC-17. IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, SKIP THE SPECIFIED PART.

Jon heaved a weary sigh. It had been a long day on the bridge and he was looking forward to the comforts of home. It was strange; he had never really thought of his quarters as home before. In fact, he probably spent more time in his ready room. But now that he knew a certain blonde engineer could be found in those quarters, they had quickly become home.

He had to admit: going into battle wasn't exactly the best time to start a relationship. They had to settle for stolen kisses and knowing looks, an hour or so alone in his quarters and a few hours sleeping in each other's arms. Still, it was more than enough.

He could feel himself reclaiming that lost humanity bit by bit. It wasn't as though he wouldn't still have to make those tough decisions, or as though he would no longer feel the consequences. If they survived this he knew he would never be the same man as before the Expanse, but he had Trip now. He had a firm hand to hold him and anchor him, to keep him from falling down that slippery slope. Before, his relationship with Trip had just been another reason to hate himself, another crack in his failing armor. Now it was something to be cherished, something to strengthen and hold him together.

Jon opened the door and heaved a happy sigh. He could smell his lover's heady aroma in his cabin, the scent of sandlewood and sage pervasive after only a week of him living there. Then again, Trip had spent three days doing nothing more than sleeping in Jon's bed. The smell lingered even now he was back on duty, and out of Phlox's so-called 'evil clutches' -though Jon would still hear a disgusted groan every now and then as another creature from the infamous menagerie surfaced. In fact, the scuttlebutt around the ship even said that the perpetually composed Lieutenant Hess had actually screamed when a bloodworm poked his way out of Trip's neck when he was bending over to check modifications to a power conduit. Then again, Jon never depended on the rumor mill; he'd have to get the true story out of his lover. *My lover: God, it feels good to finally be able to say that!*

Jon caught a motion out of the corner of his eye, concluding that maybe the fact that the smell lingered had something to do with the figure that had been hiding next to the door frame and had now pounced on Jon, pushing him up against the wall and devouring his lips the second the door closed. Jon had never in his wildest dreams imagined Trip would ever be this crazy for him, nor that it was possible to get a uniform off that quickly.

[START NC-17]

He hissed as Trip latched onto an already hardening nipple, discarding his own boxer shorts in one swift motion. And he thought engineers weren't graceful. Though they were definitely good with their hands ... "If you keep doing that, Trip, we're not even going to make it to the be...be...d."

Trip looked up from the kisses he was delivering to Jon's belly button, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. If Jon's body was reserving any blood for his brain, it completely abandoned the idea and shot the rest directly to his already heated loins. "Well I wouldn't want the spoil the main event," Trip said, standing nonchalantly. Jon's fried brain was stuck in between begging Trip to continue his ministrations and just collapsing from desire on the spot, but somehow he managed to follow his lover to the bed.

Jon hadn't seen Trip this determined before. All of their previous activities had been tender and slow. Jon had allowed Trip to set the pace, only taking charge when Trip admitted his confusion and inexperience. Trip had chosen a pace faster than Jon had expected -because he considered himself lucky to even hold the man in his arms- but they still hadn't had penetrative sex, and Jon wasn't going to bring in up, especially after finding out how much Trip tensed up when he ghosted a finger over his asshole. Apparently Trip hadn't even let his girlfriends 'go there,' though a few had tried.

No matter, there was still a lot of fun to be had utilizing God's gift of friction, which -Jon had patiently explained- was still making love. He was shocked that Trip was even willing to touch another man's cock, but delighted at the way he had tentatively reached out to touch him the first time, exactly how one might pet a strange animal. Of course, Jon had used his talented (though long out of practice) mouth to make sure that Trip forgot his post-experimental worries, and pretty much everything else.

*Now I know why I chose him for my chief engineer ... * Jon thought as Trip's mouth took a detour down south and timidly licked his straining member, *... he's a quick learner.* Just as Jon was about to forsake all rational thought and allow the sensations of having the love of his life devote all his considerable energy to pleasing him, he felt a rough hand close around the base of his cock. "Trip, what the hell are you doing?" Some part of his brain knew that starship captains didn't whine like that, but that part was not currently being denied release.

"Like I said, I don't want to spoil the main event," Trip said with a devilish grin, still not releasing him, but making up for it by fixing him with a kiss that made his heart quake with desire. His breathing was ragged, his heartbeat off-the-charts, and the husky whisper Trip was purposely adding to his already devastating accent was definitely not helping things.

"Trip, I'm going to die if you don't do something!" he squeaked.

"A little melodramatic, aren't we? Besides, it's not me that needs to do something, it's you," he said with another quick peck to the lips, finally releasing Jon and turning over on the bed, presenting perfectly tight round buttocks to him. It took every brain cell still functioning to keep Jon for taking him then and there.

"Trip, do you have any idea what you're doing?" he managed to get out through clenched teeth, despite the protests of other still-tortured parts of his anatomy.

"Not a clue, but I trust you, Jonny," Trip said, looking over his shoulder with a meager attempt at a seductive smile. Though Trip was trying hard to appear willing and he was obviously at least partially aroused by the idea, his eyes belied his inner doubts and fears. And it didn't help that he was trembling like a leaf, though most likely not out of desire.

So this was what the feverish need was all about. Trip had made a decision and was throwing himself into it full force so he didn't have the time to feel afraid. He should have expected something like this; was there any problem Trip didn't handle this way? "I'm not questioning that, Trip. I know that you would give your soul willingly to me without a second thought."

"Already have."

"I know. But you can't expect to just throw your fears out the window because intellectually you've decided you want to do this. You're afraid this is going to hurt, and it is going to hurt if you do it when you're not relaxed."

At this point, Jon's erection was screaming that talk was completely overrated, especially with Trip still looking over his shoulder at him with such love and devotion. He grabbed his lover and flipped him around, hopefully so he could focus on his face. Trip of course, took this as an invite to let his hands wander. "I am relaxed!" he protested indignantly.

Jon just reached down to cup his lover's ass and he tensed, momentarily forgetting his ministrations. Jon just raised his eyebrows. "You're about as relaxed as T'Pol is emotional."

Trip changed tactics, resuming a delicate caress that had Jon's Id screaming. Leave it to Trip to wait to discuss this until Jon was almost past the point of no return. He grunted in frustration, but quickly covered it with a strained smile as not to upset his already skittish lover. Trip returned the mixed smile, hinting at the true trepidation he felt. "I want this, Jon. I love you."

Jon finally put his foot down and grabbed the roaming hands, tempering his strict grip with a kiss. "I want it too, but you're in over your head. There are other ways to show me you love me. I could be happy just holding you. We'll work up to this later, I promise."

"What if there is no later, Jon? We've only got a day or two before we reach Azati Prime. And I'll be damned if I'm going to die or watch you die without ever having experienced this with you. I want you, Jon. I want you so much I wish I could just crawl inside your skin. I want you to be with me forever, in me. I want to share everything with you, and this is the most intimate thing I can give you. I want you to have it all."

Jon felt tears sting his eyes. And he didn't think he could love or desire this man any more! He brought their lips together in a tender kiss, releasing Trip's hands and letting his own find every plane of skin, trying truly to have it all. He reached over to the bedside table for the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers, then began applying it to his own tight hole. Trip pulled back, bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing myself." In his other relationships had always been more of a top, but he could enjoy anything with Trip. He would share this with him, as equals.

This time it was Trip who took a firm hold of his lover's wrists, his voice leaving no room for argument, "No."

"I want you, Trip. Are you really going to deny me that?" He said with a coy smile, which probably came out as more lustful than seductive. Something had to happen soon, after all.

Trip was trembling more now, his eyes tearing up, "No, Jonny, I'll hurt you. I have no idea what I'm doing. I...I can't. I love you but I'd be lost. I couldn't make you do that."

Like you aren't hurting me now, Jon's groin screamed. In fact, Trip would probably be so afraid to hurt him that he would torture him with his sloth. "You wouldn't be making me do anything. Besides, you were just begging for me to do the same to you."

Trip frowned, brows furrowing in frustration. "No, Jonny. I won't do it. I want you in me. I have to get over it sometime, and the time is now. Now might be the only time we have. If you love me you'll do this for me."

Jon couldn't resist that sublime entreaty, especially not when it was followed up such a pleading kiss. He sighed in defeat. He had a feeling he was going to be losing a lot of arguments to that kiss. At least he was still the captain: on-duty Trip had nothing on him. "Jesus, you're stubborn."

"You wouldn't have me any other way."

Jon rolled his eyes, "All right. But you're going to let me take this slow and steady, and if it hurts you too much you're going to tell me: no ifs ands or buts."

"No butts?"

"That was lame."

"That's because I should be howling your name right about now." Trip said with a grunt, flipping himself back over onto his stomach.

Jon gave an exasperated sigh. This boy really is clueless. "Trip, I'm not going to take you from behind like a lust-crazed beast or a prison rapist, not on your first time."

"You're not?" Jon's heart fluttered at the innocent relief on Trip's face. He supposed a fearful mind could come up with all kinds of monstrosities when imagining something so 'other.'

"Trip, you're an engineer, I'm sure you could figure out the logistics of something this simple."

"I thought..."

"Oh, Trip! I'm going to take good care of you, don't worry. Very good care." Jon mumbled as he mirrored Trip's earlier actions, kissing down his body, tasting every sweet bit of sun-kissed skin until he reached his goal. He teased his hands up and down Trip's inner thighs, cupping his balls and giving them a delicate massage, swallowing aggressively compared to Trip's timid licks, pleased to receive a throaty moan in response.

Now's the time to utilize every trick in your book, Jonny, his inner voice told him, as he bobbed his head up and down, careful to swirl his tongue around the shaft in languid and irregular strokes. Trip was running his fingers through Jon's hair now, not forcing him, but encouraging him with as much of a massage he could manage this close to the edge. The scent of his lover's arousal combined with the tender caring of those strong fingers were enough to give Jon trouble as he tried to hold out for what Trip referred to as the 'main event.'

Trip's voice was hoarse and throaty as his fingers clenched on either side of Jon's face, tilting his chin up so their eyes could meet in what he could only describe as an electrical current of desire and trust. "Jon, I'm real close, shouldn't you hold off?"

Jon just smiled mysteriously and went back to work, squeezing some lube onto his fingers and working them steadily closer to the delicate ring of muscle that was his ultimate goal, distracting Trip by finally allow him to penetrate to the back of his throat while humming slightly to increase the stimulation to the sensitive head. He quickly plunged a single finger inside, testing the waters and finding them warm and willing, almost relaxed. Then again, considering the royal treatment Jon was currently giving him, Trip had better be relaxed.

He paused slightly to get himself under control before he slipped a second finger inside, plunging inward until he hit the prostate. Trip gave a strangled yelp, a glorified whimper, as Jon brushed his sweet spot just right, sucking as hard as he could when he felt Trip's balls tighten, curling his tongue around the head of his already engorged cock and lapping up the small pearls of pre-cum just forming there, sweet as dewdrops. Trip was fidgeting beneath him now, trying desperately to keep his hips from thrusting into Jon's mouth and choking him. Jon ignored him, making sure to add a delicate squeeze to his sack at exactly the right moment, leaving Trip screaming his name as he came.

He wondered briefly how well his quarters were soundproofed. Then again, Trip had constructed the things, so he would know if he was being too loud, wouldn't he? Whatever the greedy part of his mind responded, eager to milk his squirming engineer for all his worth. The second he had felt the last twitch in his mouth and soft shudders of his lover's body, Jon looked up, licking his lips and wiping the contented and self-satisfied smile of his lover's lips with a deep and probing kiss.

Trip heaved a sigh, rasping, "You bastard."

"What?"

"You said we were going to...you know."

Jon chuckled; even after all this, Trip still couldn't say it. Then again, actions speak louder than words. "We are." Jon said with a wink, eyes shinning as he chuckled inwardly at his partner's naivety. Trip was currently a relaxed puddle of flesh and bone, and perfectly prepared for Jon to have his wicked way with him. He smiled at the thought. "I love you, Trip. Now remember what I said about it hurting."

Trip only nodded with a tired and satisfied moan, splaying his legs out and covering his eyes with his forearm. His legs were dead weights as Jon lifted them up onto his shoulders. Jon let his fingers continue to plunge in and out, noticing Trip's arousal stir once again. "Jon!" Trip gasped in surprise, blue eyes opening wide in both shocked anticipation and horror.

"Don't think you were getting away that easily, Mr. Tucker," Jon said with a wicked grin, adding a third finger, and watching the words that were on Trip's tongue melt into thin air with his gasps and quickening breath. Jon let his fingers continue their work of scissoring and widening as he leaned down to claim another kiss, the sweet musk of Trip's cum still on his tongue, mixing with the heady tang of his lover's lips, causing his own cock to twitch. The kiss was calming, like the peaceful balm of the Anatman's touch. He could feel Trip relaxing even more, as the universe narrowed beyond the physical. They were in a place of pleasure and pleasing, where gifts could be shared and intimacies given, apart from the banal physicality that was their packaging.

The world was smells and touches, moans and harsh breaths, the feel of soft lips and smooth skin, the tickle of feather-light touches and the bruising crush of body against body. Each touch was a metaphor, a memory of past intimacy exploding in color and sound to a symphony, a fireworks show, a sunrise with the low whoop of birdcalls greeting the dawn.

Jon did not know how he managed to grab the lube and prepare himself, for all thoughts were banished from his mind other than the slow agony of sinking deeper into his lover, finding his target easily as he wrapped a hand around Trip reawakened arousal. Trip was far from resisting. He was screaming for Jon to do something, though he had no idea how to articulate what. He pulled Jon the last bit in as he yanked him down for a kiss, biting Jon's lower lip until it bled. Jon returned the favor as he felt the torture of virgin tightness clamping down around him, engulfing him, comfortable yet awakening within him a dire directive to fly higher, seek more, complete this beautiful picture to utter perfection.

Their blood mixed with their saliva, sealing the bond between them: brothers in blood, in lust, in spirit. He knew he would remember this taste for a lifetime, as a reminder of this moment where the last walls fell, and they finally saw each other naked and defenseless. Prejudice was banished, secret desires that stood between them transformed into bridges finally crossed. This was the last step. There was always more to learn about each other, but they had seen each other in every other mood: frightened, sad, confused, joyous, playful, and even in love. Now they saw each other in the other's eyes, not two, but one.

Jon sped up his pace, pounding into his lover, eyes locked in calm fire. Trip didn't flinch or move his gaze with each thrust, though his mouth was busy with incoherent moans, singing out in counterpoint to Jon's own grunted breaths. They seemed to warp the space around them, find that universal heartbeat Mita spoke of, if only for a second. This was right, destined, even. The stars flashed by, illuminating Trip's angelic features, heated now in desire, and reminding Jon of that feverish time in the Outback when he probed the depth of his love.

[END NC-17]

It seemed that all his life culminated here, even if there was more to follow. Here in the moment, he was honest, guilty of all his crimes but of all his good deeds as well. There was no hiding, and somehow the shining light of truth managed to rip through him without burning him, like the quiet justice of the moonlight. This was who he was, let history judge him, he had something that made his spirit worthy here in his love's arms.

They gasped and screamed, even forgetting names in this place beyond existence, exploding like new universes forming, in perfect unison. Even their deeply satisfied moans seemed to merge together as though they truly were emerging from the ashes of this passion into a brave new world created by their union. Jon collapsed against his beloved, planes of sweat-soaked skin gliding seamlessly over sweat-soaked skin. He could only manage one tender kiss, aimed poorly and only half hitting his lover's slightly parted lips. Then he fell into an easy stupor entangled in an incomprehensible tumble of limbs, still outside time and away from all the burdens that awaited them beyond that gray sliding door. The last bastions of consciousness picked up a breathless, "Wow," from his satiated lover, before he chuckled himself into sleep.

He dreamed of the desert, facing ethereal blue eyes in the moonlight, and making love under the stars, the scent of sandlewood and sage floating on a universal wind that flowed from being to being, touching each one and tying it into the magnificent whole. He listened to the whispers of the darkness, hearing for once the secrets of times not-yet-passed, and allowing the truth to plant in him the smallest seed of hope. He carried that hope with him to his waking moments, even if the secrets must need be left behind.

EPILOGUE

"Jon?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"I may finally be comfortable enough with this whole lack of gender distinctions to let you fuck me into tomorrow, but I'm not comfortable enough with it for you to call me 'baby.'"

"Whatever floats your boat, Honey."

"Jon..."

"Sweetheart? Darling? Ittle-bitty-sugurs-kins?"

"None of the above."

"How about 'lover?' 'Handsome?'"

"Well, no one can deny that I'm handsome."

"What about T'Pol?"

"When she was taking care of me the other day she grabbed my ass."

"She did not."

"Jealous?"

"No, sane. You were probably just hallucinating on Phlox's magic hypos."

"I guess I was dreaming, baby."

"I'm ten years older than you, you can't call me baby."

"Darlin'?"

"You know, I actually like the sound of that. Though if any of the crew catch you calling me darlin' I can kiss my I-will-kick-your-ass captain image goodbye."

"You don't think they'll think it's cute?"

"And how will it help with battle discipline to look cute? Besides, I think it's none of their business. But what was it you wanted to ask me about, Handsome?"

"How exactly did you meet Randy?"

"He caught me staring at his ass in the locker room."

"So you were lovers?"

"Jealous?"

"Naw, I already share you with around a hundred people, what's one more?"

"Are you implying some impropriety in my command, Commander?"

"No, Sir. Your unorthodox command style means I get to sleep in a larger bed."

"But you have to share it."

"I don't mind, Darlin', even if you do snore."

"I do not!"

"Ask Porthos, he'll agree with me."

"He's my dog. He won't say a word against me."

"I'll feed him cheese: Quality mozzarella."

"You wouldn't."

"How else do you think I keep him from destroying your cabin while you're away?"

"So you're the one that spoils him rotten? I always thought it was Hoshi!"

"Hey, no tickling, that's just plain unfair!"

"All's fair in love and war, Pumkin."

"So you're going to go tickle the Xindi into submission?"

"If it would save Earth, I'd tickle a rabid Klingon."

"What if we don't make it? What if I lose you, when we've just found happiness? We wasted so much time because of my prejudices. I don't know if I could stand to see this come to an end before it's ever really started."

"We will make it. And then we'll return to Earth and get ourselves a nice big house on the coast, away from all the prying eyes of the press, and fuck like bunnies to make up for all that lost time."

"Like bunnies? I was thinking like monkeys."

"Bunnies are cuter."

"I thought you didn't like cute."

"Off duty I'm all hugs and puppies, Handsome."

"You were pretty damn cute dancing around in your underwear with those rabbit ears."

"You're never going let me live that one down, are you?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who thought it would be a good idea to challenge an alien with three arms to a game of basketball. I won the bet fair and square."

"If it had been waterpolo I would've won!"

"You would have drowned after a dozen shots of tequilla."

"You would have jumped in and saved me."

"The memory's a bit fuzzy, but I seem to recall I wasn't much better off."

"Then we would have drowned together, like Romeo and Juliet."

"They didn't drown. Besides, in all likelihood you'll get your wish."

"Don't say that. We're going to make it through this. Trust me."

"With my life, but we both know this missions a one way ticket to martyrville. It strange, a month ago I wouldn't have minded. I would have welcomed a hero's death. But now, it feels like there's so much to live for. I've never been so happy in my life, and I'm not in a rush to lose it. Don't you feel guilty being so happy, when Evi had to die for this to happen? As much as I love this, I can't help but remember all those who lost this, or won't ever be able to experience this because of the Xindi. Are we disrespecting their memories? I mean, I barely mourned Evi for a day before I jumped into your arms."

"Don't you think they would want us to be happy, Trip? I'm just remembering something Mita said. She asked me how I could hope to alleviate the suffering of others if I couldn't even allow myself to be happy. Perhaps we are saving the world right now. Maybe all the universe can ask of us is to make our small corner of it a little brighter."

"That won't save Earth, Jon. Like you said, we have to fight."

"We did fight. We fought against the sorrows of the world to find happiness. That's got to count for something."

"What if it's not enough?"

"I doubt anything will ever be enough, but it's a start. We may have been sent out here to play heroes, Trip, but at the end of the day, we're just men. Maybe the most we can hope for is to play the heroes of our own lives."

"I though Malcolm was the only one who'd reference Dickens on me."

"I didn't get to be captain of the first warp 5 starship by twiddlin' my thumbs, did I?"

"Well, you'll always be a hero to me, Jonny."

"Getting sappy now, Mr. Tucker?"

"Hey, I'm entitled!"

"That you are."

"I love you, Jon. If something happens, I never want you to doubt that."

"Never. That may be one of the few promises I know I'll be able to keep."

"At least we were heroes, just for one day."

"I reference Dickens and you come back with David Bowie?"

"I was raised on the classics just like you. Besides, you know it's true."

"I suppose courting you was a pretty heroic task. So this is what it feels like to be a hero."

"Feels good?"

"Feels like happiness."