Disclaimer: Star Trek is not my property; no profit made.

This story was written in response to the April 2011 Word Prompt: Scar. Thank you so much to Artisticmom2 for betaing, and Aquarius for your invaluable advice.

Trip made his way through a crowd of Andorians, taking in the smell of fried alien pastries and the sounds of barkers that wanted the two pinkskins to try their luck at a various games of skill or, in one case, learn what the most beautiful Andorian women in the world looked like naked. Live and in person. As he took in all the sights, smells and sounds, Trip saw a juggler catch a ball with his antenna, a scantily clad female scale a wall of ice, and a pair of wire walkers dance over a pit of white fire. There were also rides, one resembling a roller coaster, and another resembling a carousel, only with ferocious, three-eyed sea creatures instead of horses. Whatever the Andorian name for it, Trip recognized a carnival when he saw one.

"So, Captain, why exactly did you need an engineer on this particular mission?" asked Trip as Archer handed him an Andorian delicacy of some kind purchased from one of the many curvaceous blue-skinned women manning the food stands.

"I didn't need an engineer, I needed you. I never got a chance to welcome you back," said Archer casually.

Despite the nonchalance, Trip recognized a hint of emotion in his voice. Trip sighed, and he smiled just a slightly. Archer hadn't said anything since he returned from Columbia, almost acting like he'd never been gone. "I missed you, too," Trip replied, "I didn't realize how much of a home Enterprise was until..."

Archer glanced at him. "Well, you're back. That's what matters."

Trip nodded. Over and done, that conversation. Even though he and Jon had lost some of the closeness they had once had, they still worked together well enough that they could each predict one another's actions and needs. There was no substitution for that.

Just then, they passed a small, plain booth, which was distinguished by its non-Andorian but decidedly alien barker, a squat, yellow-skinned fellow with round ears and big, black eyes.

"Step right up," he said, "and learn the secrets of your other selves."

Trip saw the captain's mouth turn up slightly, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" asked Jon.

The barker waddled toward them, looking up at them with great earnestness. "Well, my friends. As you know, our universe is just one of an infinite number of universes which make up the multiverse." As he said this, he made a fluidly dramatic gesture with his short arm and pudgy hand. "Every decision, every choice, every possibility splits into a different universe. There are an infinite number of worlds in which you might or might not exist. If you do exist, your life might be very different." He paused dramatically. "Wouldn't you be curious to know what might have been, had the dice rolled differently for you?"

Archer and Trip were both silent. Archer folded his arms, but he had a look of mischief on his face.

The barker continued. "If you step into my booth, I can let you inhabit the body of your other self for a short time. You will get a glimpse of the road not taken."

"Schroediger's cat," said Archer absently, as he stared at a primitive, bubble-like illustration of the concept of a multiverse, which decorated the outside of the booth.

Trip shook his head and laughed. Respectable physicists had long ago abandoned such an absurd notion, leaving the idea of other universes to science fiction writers. But then again, those physicists also said time travel was impossible, and he and Archer both knew first hand that was possible.

Archer put his hand in his pocket and tossed some local currency at the barker.

"We'll take two tickets," said Archer.

The barker smiled broadly, showing jagged teeth, and beckoned them behind a curtain as he examined the currency. "This will get you each two hours."

Inside the booth were several humanoid-sized tubes that resembled imagining chambers, though they had wooden accents and mosaic tiles on the outside.

Archer had a twinkle in his eye. He leaned over and whispered into Trip's ear. "You're going to have to help me figure out how they do whatever trick they are about to do."

Trip grinned and nodded before climbing into one of the chambers. He remembered once when he was a kid; he'd gone to a carnival that had used primitive holograms to convince him that he was in a haunted house. He guessed that a combination of sensory depravation, holography and suggestion was behind the trick he was about to experience.

"Just a few ground rules," said the barker ominously, "Don't talk much. Everyone will think you are the other you. And the other you will remember everything you say and do, as if they dreamed it. It's best just to try and go with the flow, as it were."

Archer jumped into his own chamber. "Are we going to the same universe?" he asked playfully, "So, if I see Trip, can I say hi?"

The barker paused. "Yes," he said as he tapped into his controls, "I'm sending you to the nearest universe to this one in which you both exist. Although there's no guarantee you will even know each other."

Trip relaxed onto his back, as the chamber closed. He chuckled, this felt like some of the small adventures he and Archer had shared when they were in training.

"Close your eyes and count to ten," came the barker's voice, echoing through the chamber.

Trip obeyed, and when he reached ten, he felt a peculiar tightness in his face. He opened his eyes, or rather one eye. His other eye was fused shut. An unfamiliar bulkhead came into focus. He reached up and gingerly felt the closed eye with his fingers. Scar tissue, he thought.

Jonathan Archer had obediently kept his eyes closed until he had counted to ten, then he felt a curious draft. He opened his eyes, and he found himself looking in a mirror. He inhaled. His reflection didn't look any different, though he had somehow lost his clothes, of all things. He was in a small bathroom, and he breathed in the artificial air of a starship. Under his bare feet, he recognized the slow vibration of a warp drive.

The starship itself was not Enterprise, that much he knew. The bright lighting and the color of the bulkhead were different, as was the bathroom itself. Archer remembered back to the story Trip had told about holography that had been so life-like, Trip hadn't been able to distinguish it from reality. Archer guessed that kind of technology must be what was behind this.

Whatever the case, he probably needed to find some clothes. The last thing he wanted to do was run into Trip - or anyone else for that matter, totally naked. The door to the bathroom was open, and he gingerly stepped outside.

Maybe the entirety of Starfleet command is out there and I'll be expected to give a speech, thought Archer, and this is all about conquering phobias.

A pair of arms slipped around his waist from behind, startling him. Gentle, female arms. He inhaled. So, it was going to be this kind of ride, he thought, wondering how he was going to disentangle himself.

"What's the matter, Captain Archer?" whispered a velvety, vaguely familiar voice in his ear. "Still can't believe this ship is all yours?"

He shivered as he felt warm, human breath in his ear. The woman's small hands started caressing him, moving dangerously low. Archer turned around, intending to push her away, but he instead froze in shock. The woman was Ensign Sato. Hoshi, with tousled hair and darkened eyes. And she was as naked as he was. He gasped, and she smiled, almost wickedly, at him.

"What's the matter, Jon?" she purred, "You look like you've seen a ghost." Before he could reply, she kissed him, open mouthed and passionate. Archer felt himself get achingly hard, and she pressed against him.

This isn't real, he thought. This isn't Hoshi. This is just a ride. A game.

He knew it was a bad idea, a really bad one, but he returned her kiss. His hands clutched at her back and then; instinctively he moved them lower, squeezing her tight behind.

She broke the kiss and looked him in the eye. "I think I owe you from before," she said as she started to kiss her way down his neck.

Common sense screamed at him. Don't let this happen. Run. They could be recording this, with the thought of blackmailing him. This wasn't Hoshi, she was back on Enterprise, translating for Andorian diplomats.

But no matter how much he wanted to stop this, Archer didn't move as she stepped back slightly and bent down at the waist, nipping and kissing him along the way.

She's not even going to get on her knees, thought Archer as she bent even lower, still on her feet.

Once she took him into her mouth, he knew he couldn't stop. He whispered her name, and it was as if she knew exactly the way he liked it. She applied just the right amount of pressure with her mouth, as her hands deftly massaged him. She also seemed to know just when to stop before he went over the edge.

After what seemed like forever, she stopped for just long enough to ask, "Do you want to come in my mouth or on my face, Captain?"

"In your mouth," he gasped. Almost simultaneously, she took him in her mouth again. He came quick and hard, and he watched her efficiently swallow, like it was the most pleasant thing in the world.

His knees threatened to buckle, and she seemed to sense that, leading him to the bed. She crawled up next to him, snuggling. He put his arms around her, and he kissed her hair.

Wish fulfillment, thought Archer, that's what this is all about. Secret fantasies. Fantasies he didn't admit to himself he had.

He caressed her, lovingly, and finally allowed himself to really enjoy the sight of her body. At the moment, losing his career and his commission over whatever this game was felt totally worth it.

She looked up at him and smiled, beautifully. He smiled back. If this was really a different universe, he couldn't believe his luck. This one was obviously far superior to his own.

"You can't trust the Vulcan," she said, "T'Pol's going to betray you, and you have to be ready."

He stared at her, unsure what to say. Suddenly, Hoshi squeezed his arm, hard. It stung.

"Unless, of course, your plan to bring Vulcan into the fold of the empire involves taking a Vulcan consort," she spat. "She may be from a noble family, but rumor has it they support the rebels."

Archer's heart beat in his chest, and he saw something chilling in Hoshi's eyes. This was all very wrong, and he needed to find Trip. "I'm only interested in one woman as my consort," he said smoothly, "and she's not a Vulcan."

Hoshi's face softened, and she loosened her grip. She kissed him. "You'll only rule if you have the loyal people around you, just remember that," she whispered.

Trip stared at himself in a mirror. He'd never been that vain, but he'd certainly not been oblivious to the fact that on a good day women found him handsome. So much so, he'd hardly ever had to make the first move. Even the love of his life, T'Pol, had made the first move all those months ago in the Expanse. But now, he looked at a monstrously deformed version of himself.

Obviously, he thought, the ride is playing off my deepest fears or something. Now that I've got T'Pol, it's trying to convince me I'm not worthy.

But T'Pol was logical. She'd see beyond the physical, that is if she was here at all. His uniform was strange, a red shirt with an unfamiliar logo. He didn't recognize the material from which it was made.

He heard a chime, and he went to the door and figured out how to open it. It slid open, and there stood T'Pol, a different T'Pol. She had long hair, her pointed ears sticking adorably through it, and she wore a blue dress, made from the same strange material as his shirt. And the dress was short, enough so that he had a beautiful view of her legs.

"May I come in, Mr. Tucker?" she asked.

He nodded, and she stepped into his cabin. She looked gorgeous, but this wasn't his T'Pol. She was more emotive somehow, and she appeared worried. His T'Pol almost never showed worry.

Just remember this is all a trick, Tucker, he thought to himself.

"You know Archer's ambitions know no bounds," she said calmly, "You've worked with him for many years longer than me. Do you believe he will succeed?"

Trip bit his scarred lip. He remembered the go-with-the-flow advice from the barker.

"The Jonathan Archer I know gets things done," he said carefully.

She sat down. "He's the one who put you in the booth. That was his reward for your loyalty. I didn't intend for you to be harmed. He did."

By the way she said "booth", Trip figured that the booth wasn't a good thing. He looked down and noticed her hands trembled just slightly. "I know," he said, "I know you'd never hurt me on purpose."

Without thinking, he gently gathered her into his arms, and then waited. Since becoming involved with T'Pol, he'd named the delay that often happened between him hugging her and her inevitable response. He called it the Vulcan Lag. After a few seconds, her arms came tentatively around him.

"He murdered Black," she whispered. "You must know that."

Was she still talking about Archer? That didn't sound like him.

He didn't know what to say, and since this was all a fantasy, he responded by kissing her. As she melted into him, he hoped his T'Pol wouldn't be too upset if she learned that he kissed an imaginary version of her. If this was about exploring fantasies and fears, she'd obviously be pleased to know that even in his fantasies, he wanted to be with her. Imaginary T'Pol kissed him back, passionately and familiarly. No, this wasn't precisely his T'Pol, but she kissed like his T'Pol.

"It's gonna be okay," he said, using his one good eye to look into her eyes.

"He believes the Federation, the one from the other universe, is folly. Do you?" she asked.

Trip squinted at her. Archer had said Daniels had told him about an idealistic Federation of Planets, but Trip had never learned much about it, except it led to a better world.

"No," replied Trip, "I don't think it's folly."

Just then, there was a chime on the door. "I should hide," she said, lowering her eyes, "You shouldn't be seen with me just now."

Going with the flow, Trip nodded, and she headed for the bathroom. He opened the door, and he saw Jonathan Archer there, wearing a green shirt with an ornate insignia.

"Trip? Is that you?" he whispered.

Trip breathed a sigh of relief. "Captain," he whispered, "It's me."

Archer entered the cabin, shutting the door behind him. "You won't believe what's going on," he said, "This is apparently some ship from the future -"

Trip made a quiet gesture, and he looked obviously toward the bathroom door. Archer mouthed the words "who" and Trip responded with "T'Pol".

"Sure, Captain," said Trip, "I can show you those warp schematics. We can go now."

With that, Trip followed Jon out of his cabin.

Archer found the ship mesmerizing, and even through the terrible scarring, he could tell Trip felt the same. By the time they got to engineering, both of them were like wide-eyed kids. Various engineers inconveniently buzzed around engineering, but Archer knew what to do.

"Everyone out," he shouted firmly. "Clear engineering."

The crew, some of whom he even recognized, obeyed his orders instantly. Only a few times in the Expanse had Archer ever seen the looks they gave him now as they scattered. He didn't like it when people obeyed him out of fear, rather than trust.

Trip, meanwhile, stared lovingly at the warp drive.

"This engine probably goes up to Warp 9," he gasped, "and is a thousand times more efficient that ours."

Archer stepped up next to him. "From what I gleaned from this universe's Hoshi, this ship comes from the future, but from our timeline, not their's. This is supposed to be a ship of peace, not conquest. But the me from this universe has other plans, apparently."

Trip was still looking wide-eyed at the engine. "This universe's T'Pol asked me if I believed in the possibility of Federation," he said, "I told her I did."

Archer was about to ask if this universe's Trip and T'Pol were also romantically involved, when he heard footsteps. He turned around, and he recognized T'Pol. Long hair. Short skirt, but it was T'Pol.

"Sometimes I forget about that Vulcan hearing of yours," he said.

She stepped forward. "In this universe, or yours?"

"Both apparently," said Trip, looking both concerned and irritated as he stepped to her side and took her arm.

"I saw pictures of the other universe's Tucker," she said accusingly. "He wasn't scarred."

"This is your Charles Tucker's body," replied Trip. "I'm just borrowing it."

Archer inhaled. Trip seemed to think this was no holographic trick. That they were exactly where the barker had told them they were going. Archer watched as Trip took T'Pol's hand and entwined his fingers in hers.

"It's not a trick," he whispered. "It's real."

She locked her eyes with him, and Archer had to turn away for fear of violating their privacy. As he stared at an unobtrusive part of the bulkhead, he felt something inside him. Frustration. Fear. Aggression.

He heard T'Pol ask, "Where is my Charles, then? Is he in your body? Is he with your T'Pol?"

Archer looked up.

Trip was shaking his head. "I feel him. He's inside this body, too," he told T'Pol.

Archer inhaled. Maybe that's what he sensed inside himself, his other self. "We don't have much time. We're only here for a couple of hours, and most of that has already passed," he said.

"How did you get here?" she asked, and Archer caught the longing in her voice.

"We're not sure. It's not our technology," replied Trip, still gazing at her, "and it's definitely not permanent."

She nodded, disappointment evident on her face. "But he loves you," said Trip, "like I love my T'Pol. It's hard to explain, but I feel like we share the same soul...deep down, we're the same. Give him a chance."

She nodded, looking sad and resigned. Archer still felt like he was violating their privacy, and worse, he felt like his other self was watching, too, and the other Archer was seething.

Archer took a deep breath. "You're not wrong to want the world to be a better place," he said, speaking as much to her as to his own doppleganger. "Our world isn't perfect, but we're trying to make things better. I couldn't do all that I've done, or will do, there without the other you. If you share her soul, then I know you can do great things."

My other self better get that message, too, thought Archer.

She nodded. "You two are very fortunate," she said.

Archer, all of a sudden, could feel himself losing consciousness. He saw Trip nearly loose his footing. The last thing Archer saw was the scarred version of Trip kissing the long haired T'Pol.

He opened his eyes, and he was back in the chamber, and he heard the sounds of the carnival outside.

Trip inhaled, and he climbed out of the chamber, his hands shaking. He could see out of both his eyes, and he reached up and felt his face and neck. No scars.

If that had been a trick, it was the most intense trick he'd ever experienced, but strangely enough Trip was pretty sure it had been real. He imagined that his other self, the bitter and lonely man he had felt inside his mind, fighting to regain control, would awaken in the long-haired T'Pol's arms.

Trip closed his eyes, and he could feel his T'Pol inside his head. The bond between them had kicked in, and he could feel her sending calming energy to him. He needed to see her. He needed to tell her what he had seen and done. What he had felt.

Trip looked over at Archer, who looked pale as he rubbed his temples.

"Well, gentlemen," said the barker, "How did you find your other selves? Did you have prettier wives? More wealth. Fame perhaps?"

Neither Archer, nor Trip said anything. They mumbled some "thank you's" and left.

Unable to sleep, Trip wandered the halls of Enterprise late that night. He'd left T'Pol sleeping in her cabin. He had told her about what he and Archer had experienced on the planet's surface, and to his surprise, she kept her expressed skepticism to a minimum and had listened patiently to his tale of a long-haired, mini-skirted version of her.

"Do you think it was real?" he had asked.

"I don't know," came the reply.

Trip instinctively reached up to feel his face for the twentieth or so time that night, just to confirm he wasn't scarred. He sighed. He'd felt the loneliness and isolation of the other him, as well as the deep longing for T'Pol. That, at least, was familiar. Maybe, just maybe, what he said to the other T'Pol might make a difference for them both.

Trip wandered into the empty mess hall, and he fixed himself a cup of mint tea. He wanted coffee, but he also wanted sleep. He hoped the mint would relax him. As he sipped, he noticed a light on in the captain's mess. He went and knocked.

"Come in..." said Archer.

Trip entered, and he saw the captain seated alone at his dining table, a half-empty bottle of bourbon on the table. No glasses.

On the way back from the surface, Trip had asked about what the captain had seen, and Jon gave utterly vague replies. The only thing Trip knew was that the other Archer had stolen a ship from the future and planned to use it for conquest. And that Archer had met that universe's Hoshi.

"I couldn't sleep, either," said Trip, sitting down.

Archer offered him a sip out of the bottle. His tea forgotten, Trip drank. He suddenly felt scared for Jonathan. Trip hadn't seen him look so - so blank - since the darkest days in the Expanse.

"Do you think it was real?" asked Trip.

"It felt real," replied Archer, who took another swig.

Trip paused. When he'd linked with that universe's T'Pol, he sensed her fear of and contempt for that universe's Jonathan Archer. So, if Archer had been able to sense the emotions of his other self, as Trip had, it must not have been a pleasant experience.

"What was it like for you?" asked Trip, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"My other self had plans," said Archer, "dangerous ones. And he was very angry with Starfleet. He wanted power and control."

Trip shook his head. "My other self was a recluse," he replied. "They weren't us."

Archer looked at him. "I heard what you said to the other T'Pol about sharing the same soul. I think you were right. I think he was me, just different."

Trip sighed, and he stood up. "At least you can be grateful that you're here. By the way, you said you met that universe's Hoshi. What was she like?"

Archer smiled and stared at the bottle. "She was almost exactly the same," he replied.

Trip got a chill.

He and that Hoshi were involved, he thought. He was sure of it. Worse, for reasons unknown, the notion wasn't as amusing as it should have been. Trip got up, suddenly wanting very much to get back to his T'Pol.

"Maybe you should tell Hoshi about it," he said. "T'Pol was interested in what her other self was like. She even asked if I liked her in long hair, but I was smart enough to say I like her hair anyway she likes it."

The captain didn't even look up. He just stared at the bottle. Trip thought he might say something, but he didn't, so Trip moved to go.

"I didn't like myself," said Archer. "And Hoshi didn't like me either. She pretended, though."

Trip inhaled. "This universe's Hoshi adores you. Always has. Probably more than you know."

Archer looked up. He nodded. "Goodnight, Trip, and thanks. It was quite a ride."

Trip smiled. "Goodnight, Captain."

Not long after Trip left, Archer got up and headed toward his quarters. He was feeling the bourbon, but he took pains not to show it. He was halfway back to his cabin when he ran smack into Hoshi, in uniform and likely on her way to a gamma shift. Her hair was pulled back, as always, and she smiled.

"Hi Captain," she said cheerfully, "How was your trip to the festival? Some of the diplomats told me the event is pretty incredible."

He smiled. "Incredible doesn't begin to cover it," he replied.

She looked at him curiously. She was beautiful, more beautiful, in fact, than the other version of her. She didn't have the hard edge that had been such a natural part of her other self.

Impulsively, Archer spoke. "Ask me about the carnival sometime. I'd love to tell you about it."

She nodded. "We're scheduled to have breakfast this week," she replied. "I'll make sure I do. Goodnight."

With that, she was off down the hall, and Archer watched her go. He wasn't going to tell her everything, of course. But Trip was right, she might be curious to know.

The End