Chapter 6: Therapy

Malcolm sat back heavily. First reports were coming in from Brazil, showing that Embraer had perfectly honored their side of the deal and at this time were actually producing more of the new force field generators than his still expanding factory did. But even the reduced earnings from outsourcing production to Brazil were far exceeding what his factory generated before.

And of course there was this message from T'Pol. So, a meeting at an address well away from their house? Something told him this wouldn't end in a game of chess. And it was just as well. He would have had lost his ability to foresee her actions if Hoshi hadn't taken the initiative by now and T'Pol's reference to a 'spirited debate' could only mean that Trip had dished out some of his ridiculously blunt messages again.

Truth be told he had long arrived at the conclusion that he and T'Pol were the stalling factors, but he could hardly walk up to the Vulcan and say 'we should be shagging, love', even though this was exactly what both of them craved. By looking at what he could read between the lines, Trip had had no such inhibitions and had probably told her exactly that.

Which was why he was currently preparing to take a shower.

Hoshi held his shoulders as he doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach right in front of his wheel chair. She tried to fight back the tears and the nausea as she watched Trip retch in pain, having lost pretty much everything he had swallowed since 2149 through his face.

Well, so much was certain – Phlox had not exaggerated that Jhamel's treatment would cause nausea. How much more nauseous could it get but puking out everything but your internal organs? Hell if anything, she was about to hurl as well!

"Wheel me back in," he demanded as she wiped the remnants of vile sputum off his face.

"Trip, you've suffered enough for the day!" Hoshi pleaded.

"Back in!" he repeated.

"Join me?" she heard him ask after Hoshi had helped Trip get comfortable in bed.

"If I join you, we'll be busy in an instant," she said with a chuckle, but quickly took a serious stance again. "You heard what Phlox said – at least four hours uninterrupted rest until you've dealt with the infection. And in this case, I'm not willing to defy him. You are knackered."

"Okay, okay," came his sleepy reply as he rolled on his side with an effort.

She put the blanket over him, but he was already half asleep and didn't even try to argue. With a kiss on his cheek she turned to leave the room and discarded her clothing except for the panties.

It was time to get going on some work. It would be only so long until Trip would become displeased by her being home as a sort of "personal nurse".

The truth was of course that she and T'Pol had decided that one of them would stay home to care for him. But to do that, and it had always realistically been herself, she had to find a job that she could do from home. Thankfully Starfleet had been practically begging her to come back and continue her work on the universal translator. The compromise they had come to was that she would be writing a book on her work on the UT so far. That would get new talent up to speed and would provide a good income to her and Starfleet as the royalties were to be split fifty-fifty.

Finding an old-fashioned keyboard had not been easy as computers relied on speech recognition these days. Thankfully she knew someone with a factory at hand and it had only taken little over a week to make a prototype that also contained a Braille output, so Trip would be able to use it as well.

The production numbers were small, but the pre-orders were coming in by the bucket load, so the nostalgic devices would provide a nice little but stable income to the factory. Perhaps with time and resources available for more expansion, the market of producing goods to make the life easier for disabled people would be one to explore.

But first Malcolm had to come out of his funk. Since the development of the prototype had seen her visit him in his factory, their strained relationship had improved, but certainly not to the point that she would say it was anywhere near normal again.

At least they had finally made love again after god knows how many weeks, but Malcolm was not the same yet. Even without T'Pol's telepathic abilities it had not been hard to see that he had not fully enjoyed it for the fact that he was still feeling guilty about his equal desire for T'Pol. Accordingly mediocre had his performance turned out to be.

All the hope rested on T'Pol's scheme. Getting Malcolm to understand that Trip was far from the disorientated, helpless, convalescent patient he had encountered over two months ago, would be a tall order. T'Pol had been somewhat parsimonious on details about how she planned to convince him and her opinion that she could get the other big elephant – sex with Malcolm – out of the room at the same time seemed a bit optimistic.

Not that it was technically challenging – get naked and get on with it – but she wasn't sure how much reluctance on his part the Vulcan had to wear down, no matter how much both of them wanted it. The very fact that he still thought of Trip as being robbed of all joy in life would serve as a big ol' cold shower, as he would torment his brain over the fact that he'd be doing T'Pol while Trip couldn't - at least not in the same way.

As she slowly walked into the living room, busy with her thoughts about Malcolm, she saw a little object she hadn't seen before. It was a fairly accurate representation of Enterprise that he had modeled completely from memory. He had been working on modeling things for the entire time since returning home and she had not known how good at it he actually was. Normally he would quickly destroy anything he had made, but he seemed to have forgotten it this time.

She gently picked it up to save it for preservation.

Doctor Phlox looked around when the doors to his little clinic opened, hoping that it wasn't another employee with a minor injury from calibrating the new production line for the force-field generators. The constant interruptions had caused a significant delay in evaluating the results of the first therapy session of Mr. Tucker.

The delay had been even more frustrating because the initial data seemed to exceed even his most optimistic estimations. He was still concerned about using genetic procedures that were barely covered by the law, and certainly not in the spirit of it, but Mr. Reed had made it clear that he would take the blame on himself should any problems arise.

The CEO's letter, which effectively ordered him to conduct this therapy would of course not absolve him in a court of law, at best it would be considered a mitigating circumstance. But considering that Mr. Tucker was a friend who had risked his life and paid a devastating price for saving their planets from Romulan conquest, risking his own modest career was not something that would cost him a lot of sleep.

It was not another dented factory worker though; it was the company's owner in what looked to be a ridiculously expensive business suit. He even wore a tie, which meant he was on his way to a meeting with someone important and had most likely come to inquire about Mr. Tucker's first visit to the facility before leaving.

"So, how did it go, doctor?" came the foreseeable inquiry.

"I must admit that I had not expected such positive results after only one therapy session," he replied cheerily and offered his guest a seat at patient side the desk. "Although some of it is down to Mr. Tucker's stubborn nature; he continued the therapy far beyond what many others would have endured."

"That's Trip for you. If he sets his mind on something, he rides it out to the bitter end. Just like on the day out there in Romulan space."

Phlox could hear the voice of Mr. Reed trail off over the last statement and it was not hard to see that he was the one with the most problems to adjust to their circumstances. The other three members of this unique, entangled four-way relationship were far further advanced in their acceptance of Mr. Tucker's fate.

He would perhaps even say that Mr. Tucker himself seemed to have the least problems, although he knew that problems would eventually arise. There was only so much autonomy they could return to the former fleet captain and frustration about his limitations would come to rear its head at some point. There were very few cases of people, who were disabled after an accident, who would not run into a crisis at some point, even after seemingly living well for years after the accident.

"The new transmitter cells we have introduced were most effectively distributed throughout the body," he explained as he directed his attention back to his employer. "He will feel a bit exhausted for a few hours as I had to introduce the modified DNA through a weakened strain of mycobacterium tuberculosis."

"You infected him with tuberculosis?" his visitor asked, obviously not very amused about these news.

"It is nothing that his immune system couldn't handle," the doctor added to alleviate the human's fears. "The bacteria had a lifespan of less than four hours and by now have been long cleaned out of his system. Their only purpose was to deliver the engineered DNA to stem cells across Mr. Tuckers body."

"So basically he's a salamander now, who can grow back limps?"

"Not to that extent, Mr. Reed. This modification is not extensive enough to regenerate complex cell structures. We could have ended up with a patient who starts growing surplus limbs or ... other appendages. It seems however enough to regenerate some of the damaged synaptic connections."

His visitor processed the news in silence, before another rather foreseeable question was presented.

"An honest answer, doctor: How are his chances and at what time frame are we looking?"

Phlox shook his head slightly as he didn't have all the answers to all questions,

"I cannot give you an exact estimation as even with these encouraging results, we are still looking at months if not years of therapy. I am however inclined to update my prognosis on regaining his mobility and reproductive functions from likely to very likely."

"No chance for his eyesight then?"

It was clear that the biggest of Mr. Reed's problems was the loss of Mr. Tucker's vision. As one who was dependent on it many years in his work, it seemed to be the biggest worry for the Brit.

"Not with this method," the Denubulan admitted. "The human brain is the most adaptable such organ I have encountered in any species, but vision is too complex for any other brain region to take over. You must look at a technical solution."

"I've met a lot of species, but none that would be advanced enough to produce bionic eyes. I think the Bajorans had some sort of visor," his visitor explained indicating the shape of a rectangular object covering the eyes across the whole front of the head. "But it required implanting some sort of connectors into the temples and even then they couldn't make out more than vague shapes."

"It is a start, is it not?" Phlox said, trying to give Mr. Reed some hope. "The four of you have expertise in all relevant areas. Hoshi is an expert on sensor technology. Captain T'Pol is one of the best scientist I've met and despite his disabilities, Mr. Tucker is still one of the best engineers of humanity. Surely you will be able to develop the concept further, especially now that you have a whole factory at your disposal."

"Good point, doctor," the company's CEO conceded and made ready to go.

"One last question before you go," the doctor interrupted. "Have you considered hiring Mr. Tucker for your Research and Development department? A computer is not difficult to operate for a blind person, and you are missing out on the considerable engineering expertise of your partner."

"Wouldn't that be something to think about when he has learned to cope with his problems?"

Phlox had to force himself to not shake his head or give any other sign of his displeasure about Mr. Reed's obvious ignorance of Mr. Tucker's progress.

"I suggest you come here to observe one of your partner's therapy sessions. You will find that he is well able to master his life to a surprising extent. His stubborn character seems to extend to learning to overcome his challenges."

"I always thought that you were much more interested in other bits," Hoshi said with a chuckle after Trip had 'stolen' a look at her face.

It was the first game of cards they were playing since before his injuries. Buying cards with Braille ornamentation hadn't been as much of a challenge as she had thought. She was sitting naked on the bed in a lotus position. That was the position she used to assume and she wanted to give him the familiarity so he would not need to search long for whatever he was interested at the time.

"Remember that talk you and T'Pol had with Phlox before I woke up?"

"You heard that?" Hoshi asked with a slight gasp.

"Sure, my mind was awake to some extent the whole time. I only really remember the last month or so before I woke up though. Phlox was right, things are much more interesting now. I've always thought your smile was beautiful, but feeling it, exploring the curvature of your lips, it's just ... it's spectacular – does that make sense?"

"More than you think," she struggled as she started to sniffle.

"What's wrong darlin'?" he asked after he had found her hand and taken it.

"I'm scared Trip," Hoshi said as tears rolled down her face. "You are the one of us who sees things most optimistic. I'm scared that you just swallow down all the frustration and depression and it all blows up at a point. We've been there before. How can you be so calm over what happened to you?"

She could see that he was thinking about a response.

"Look darlin', I'm calm because I can't change anything about it. Phlox can, perhaps with the help of Malcolm and T'Pol. What am I supposed to do? Urge them to work faster? The crisis will come, sooner or later. And I hope by that time we're all four strong enough to overcome it. For the moment I'm reasonably happy."

"Sorry," she muttered as she got the weeping under control.

"Nothing to worry about darlin'," he said with a smile. He let go of her hand and gently let his fingers glide over her left breast, gently circling her nipple. In no time the sensitive tips of her still growing bust were standing at attention.

"As for these bits," he added with a mischievous grin. "Don't worry, I'll peek at those too, but that will inevitably end in bed, so I thought we'd get a few more rounds in before we are too horny to concentrate on the cards."

She chuckled in a mix of arousal and amusement.

When Malcolm walked up the stairs to the apartment he was still thinking about what it meant that he had seen one of his company's delivery boxes in the recycling material area of the house. It had unmistakably been one that they used to package the newest improved version of the speech controlled wheel chair.