Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its characters. I am making no money off of this.

Spoilers: Through Terra Prime

Author's Note: Shortly after finishing the Enterprise series, I said to my husband that it felt like the writers had a wheel in their office that they spun once a week. The wheel was called "Ways to Torture Trip Tucker." After four years of going through the wringer time after time, it occurred to me that after a time it would all catch up with him. This is my version of Trip coming to terms with everything he's been through – with a bit of adventure and drama thrown in.

Also, this is not a romance fic. There may be romance in a sequel, but if it happens I really am not sure who would end up with who. I am as much along for the ride as you are.

Prologue

"At ease, Captain."

Jonathan Archer relaxed as he gazed into the grizzled face of Admiral Gardner, seated comfortably at his desk in Starfleet Command. The toll the last few weeks had taken on the Enterprise's commanding officer was evident on his handsome face – his brow was furrowed, his shoulders held a slump that hadn't been there before. Archer looked a bit haggard, tired even. He was uncomfortable in the presence of Gardner, with whom he had an uneasy history at best.

He wasn't entirely sure why his presence had been requested – ordered – today. He and his crew had been debriefed. Enterprise was finishing necessary repairs and upgrades, and then they would be released back into the cold comfort of space. All of them – Tucker and T'Pol especially – were anxious to put the events of the last few weeks and the pain they had suffered at the hands of Terra Prime behind them.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here, Archer," Gardner began.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Jonathan replied, caution in his tone.

"I know that you're anxious to return to preparations for your ship's upcoming departure, so I'll keep this brief," Gardner replied. "I have a sort of…favor to ask of you."

Jonathan tilted his head and squinted at the admiral, a glimmer of suspicion in his green eyes. "What kind of favor?"

Gardner stood and moved from behind his desk to lean against the front of it, arms folded over his chest. "Starfleet would like to implement an experimental program," he explained. "A test-run so we can see if this would be feasible on other ships in the fleet. When discussing a ship to launch this program from…" He paused. "Given everything that has happened on Enterprise in the last few months, it was suggested your crew might benefit most from it."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "What is the program, Admiral?" he asked, wary.

The admiral took a deep breath. "We would like to see how well a ship's counselor would benefit a crew," he said.

The captain's response was an undignified snort. "With all due respect, sir," he snapped. "I can't imagine most of my crew discussing their deep, dark fears with a counselor."

"We're aware that the program could be a phenomenal failure," Gardner replied. "But there are those among Starfleet who feel it is at least worth exploring."

A deep sigh escaped Jonathan's lips. "And if I say no," he asked, "does this request for a favor become an order?"

A ghost of humor flitted through Gardner's eyes. "What do you think, Captain?"

He paused a moment, considering the cards he held in his hand and what he could play against Gardner's. A slow grin spread over the captain's face. "I'd like to make a counter-proposal, sir."

Gardner lifted a brow. "Go ahead."

"I'll agree to test the program on my ship," Jonathan agreed. "But I choose the counselor. It's only fair," he hurried, before Gardner could protest. "I was permitted to choose the rest of my command crew. I should be allowed to choose my ship's counselor."

The admiral studied him. "We had someone in mind, but in this instance…" He appeared to mull it over. "Fine," he finally responded. "My stipulation is that you must choose from Starfleet-affiliated psychologists or psychiatrists. We don't have time to brief and train someone else before Enterprise departs."

"Understood," Jonathan said. "I'll have a candidate for you by day's end."

"Don't make me regret this, Archer," Gardner said, frowning at the captain. "Dismissed."

It was nearly two hours later before Jonathan had gathered the courage to make his way to the psychology department of Starfleet command. Standing before the door, he very nearly lost his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell, part of him hoping no one was in the office.

"Come in," a distracted voice called from within.

The sight that greeted him was so familiar it brought a grin to his face. She stood behind her desk, bent over it as she moved at a frenzied speed from book to book, searching for something. Annoyed, she blew a tendril of honey blonde hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear as she selected a volume and flipped through it, muttering to herself. "Maybe Narcissistic personality disorder…" she murmured.

"Which Starfleet captain are you studying today?" Jonathan asked, leaning against the doorway.

Her gaze snapped up from her book and her dark eyes widened briefly before a wide grin lit up her face. "Jonathan Archer," she said, a hint of a drawl betraying her southern roots. "I figured you were halfway across the galaxy somewhere." Dropping the book on the desk, the woman moved from behind it and launched herself at him, drawing the captain into a warm hug.

"Dr. Callista Agroterra," he replied, returning the friendly embrace. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Still just Callie to you," she shot back, smirking up at him. "At least it'd better be." She turned and gestured towards a sofa. Her office was cheerfully decorated despite the cold, impersonal feel of the Starfleet facility. "Come on in and have a seat."

They their way to the couch sat on it, facing one another. "Thanks," Jonathan replied. He looked her over, taking in her cool, crisp, professional attire and appearance. "You look good," he said. Jonathan felt a strange mix of awkwardness and comfort sitting in her office. A few years before, he and Callie had dated for only a few months before they both realized all there was between them was a close friendship. Even though years had passed, they still remained friends and he still enjoyed her company. And it was out of that friendship he was there, seated on her couch today.

He could only hope she would be willing to hear him out.

"You… look tired," she replied honestly. Her expression grew serious. "I know that things got a little dicey for Enterprise before the alliance was formed. But it's signed and sealed. That has to be a feather in your cap."

"It is," he admitted. "But I'm not sure it was worth the price."

Callie arched a brow, but something in his expression held her back from asking the questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she stood and moved to make them both a cup of coffee. "So what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Jonathan Archer?" she asked. "Not that I'm complaining." Over her shoulder, she tossed him a teasing look. "A visit from you is always a treat."

Jonathan fought a grin. "I have a favor to ask, Callie."

She grew quiet as she stirred sugar and cream into her cup. "You want to ask me to be the counselor on the Enterprise," she responded, her tone unreadable.

He looked surprised. "How do you know about that?"

Callie handed him a cup and retook her seat across from him. "Do you really think Starfleet would hand down something that big and not talk to us about it?" she asked. "There are only four counselors in Starfleet right now. I figured I had a twenty-five percent chance of it being me." She took a languid sip of the hot coffee, savoring the smoky taste on her tongue. As she swallowed, the smirk returned to her lips. "Wouldn't it be a bit inappropriate for me to be serving as your counselor? I have a little more personal knowledge of you than any of the other three would."

Jonathan blushed. "Actually, that personal knowledge is one of the reasons that I want you," he replied. The faint smile on his lips faded, and he gazed at her earnestly. "Callie, I need someone who knows me well enough to trust me, and not be a yes-man for Gardner. If Starfleet is going to require that I have a ship's counselor, then fine. I'll have a counselor. But just like my command crew, I want one that I know I can trust. That's you."

"That's fair," she replied, mulling it over. She eyed him over the rim of her cup. "What else?"

"What do you mean, 'what else'?" he asked, glancing away as he took a sip from his own mug.

"Jonathan, we've known each other for years," she replied dryly. "I do know you well enough to know that you're hiding something. Now spill it."

He took a long sip of the coffee and then a deep breath to steel his nerves. His gaze met hers and he spoke hesitantly. "When Paxton made that speech to the world," he began. "You recall that he showed us all a half-human, half-Vulcan infant."

Callie nodded. "You'd have to have been living in a cave to miss it," she replied, sipping her coffee.

"… That baby…" Jonathan hesitated. "She was a genetically created baby created from the DNA of two of my crew members. My first officer, a Vulcan named T'Pol." He paused, not meeting her gaze. "And Trip Tucker."

Callie gazed at Jonathan for several long moments, the silence between them deafening. "Trip's child?" she asked, her voice soft. "What happened to her?"

Jonathan looked away.

Callie closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. "How is he?"

"He's…" He started to gloss it over and say Trip was holding it together remarkably well and moving forward. His loyalty to his friend almost demanded it. But Callie knew them both better than that. If she were to agree to his request, she deserved to know what she was getting into. "He's barely holding it together, Callie," he admitted. Jonathan sighed and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "It was never a question in his mind that she was his child. It didn't matter how she came to be. All that mattered was she was half him."

Jonathan stood and began pacing her office. "He and T'Pol just returned from Vulcan, where they held a memorial service for her. He's trying so hard, but…"

"What about T'Pol?" Callie asked as she set her mug on a table in front of her.

"She's a Vulcan," he said, as if that alone explained it. "T'Pol… I know that she's hurting. But she's better equipped to deal with her emotions. She'll meditate and repress the emotions, and pull herself through it. I can't see her letting anyone, least of all you – no offense –"

"None taken."

"-Help her. It's not her way. But Trip…"

Callie chuckled humorlessly. "You think that Trip Tucker will let someone help him deal with his emotions?"

Jonathan shrugged, helplessness painted on his face. "He had barely come to terms with his sister's death when this happened," he continued. "Trip has always been volatile. Impulsive. Unpredictable. Emotional is his middle name." He sighed. "He's not our Trip," he said. "And he's pushing everyone away, burying himself in work."

She sighed heavily and stood, walking to a window and gazing out over San Francisco as she wrapped her arms around herself. "So you want me to come in and pull him through it," she said, flatly.

"I need someone that I can trust on my ship," Jonathan replied. "Trip needs someone that he can trust enough to let in. You fit both of those shoes, Callie."

She refused to turn and meet his gaze. "You don't know what you're asking of me, Jonathan," she finally said wearily.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

Callie shook her head and turned to him. "No, you don't," she replied. "You're asking me to put my entire career in jeopardy. To work with you is very unethical. To work with Trip? I can't begin to tell you how many professional lines that would cross. If Starfleet ever found out just how closely I've been associated with the both of you, that would be the end of my career. So you're asking me to put my career at stake for you and for Trip."

Jonathan flinched. "Callie-"

"I'm not finished," she interrupted. "If you're going to ask this of me, Jonathan, then you're going to do so with the full understanding of just, exactly, what you're asking." She gazed at him for a moment, her jaw working as she clenched it tightly. "Those are just the professional risks," she continued, her voice softer. "Personally? You're asking me to risk my friendship with you. If this goes catastrophically south, then it's going to come back on you and me. It could destroy our careers."

Again he made an attempt to interrupt her, but she silenced him with a hand. "Almost finished," she said. "So just sit tight." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You want me to pull Trip through this," she went on slowly, "knowing that if anyone tries to get him to address his feelings then he's going to balk and probably get nasty with them. So, beyond all that I've already mentioned, you're asking me to risk a friendship that I've had since I was in kindergarten." Having finally summarized her case, Callie fell silent and stared at Jonathan with a challenging gaze.

Jonathan sighed and paced the office, idly picking up a small stress ball from her desk and toying with it. "I know that I'm asking a lot of you," he replied. He paused to gather his thoughts. "My primary responsibility is to see to the safety and well-being of my crew. To do that, I need to surround myself with people I know I can trust. I have limited options here, Callie. It's you or one of the other three. When faced with that choice, it's a no-brainer. I want you."

Irritated, Callie looked away. "And my career and my feelings are no matter as long as you get what you want?" she asked.

"You know that isn't true," he responded. "If you truly don't want to do it, then I'll drop the issue. I just thought…" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Can I be honest with you?" She glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded. "I'm worried if another counselor gets their hands on Trip right now, they'd relieve him of duty."

Callie turned completely around to face him, blinking. "It's that serious?" she asked.

He nodded. "You've known him longer and better than any of us. You can get him through this without pulling him away from the work he needs to keep himself going right now."

"The Trip Tucker that I knew was eighteen years old, hormone-driven, and enjoyed driving his car through the everglades on a Saturday night," she retorted. "That was more than a decade ago."

"You've kept in touch over the years," he countered. "Hell, it was Trip that introduced you to me."

"True." She cast a brief glance at him over her shoulder. "I should thank him for that week in Aruba." A soft, teasing glimmer danced in her eyes.

For the second time since he'd arrived, Jonathan blushed.

Callie returned a thoughtful glance to the window. "It's unprofessional and unethical," she said, thinking aloud. "Professionally, I can't treat Trip."

"Then don't treat him," Jonathan replied. "Just be his friend."

She glared at him. "It's not fair of you to ask this of me, Jonathan," Callie said with an irritated tone. "Especially since you know I can't say no to you." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Or to Trip."

"To be fair," he ventured, "Trip isn't asking. He doesn't even know I'm here."

"Great," she replied sardonically. "Let's just spring on him that I'm joining the crew. That'll help his already volatile emotional state."

"You know he'll be happy about it," he replied. He studied her, almost afraid to hope. "So you'll do it?"

"How long before Enterprise leaves?" she asked.

"Three weeks."

"Just enough time for me to find someone to take my current cases." She turned and cast him an arch look. "You owe me. A big one."