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

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

"Damn right it's your fault."

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

"Dismissed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Archer to Tucker."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Mal. Joining us for lunch?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright, Trip?"

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

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

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

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

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

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