Sleep. He needed to sleep. Archer had finally moved away and was doing something off to his right, but at least he was finally leaving him alone. Archer, Trip decided, was finally succumbing to the heat. He had been asking him all sorts of damn-fool questions about…chickens? And he wanted to go to Rhode Island for some reason. What was up with that? Wasn’t there some sort of chicken from Rhode Island? A Rhode Island Red, that was it! Or was it a Rhode Island White? No, that was a dog from Scotland, wasn’t it? Anyway, what did that have to do with them slowly dying of thirst in this god-forsaken desert?

His ribs hurt like a sonofabitch. He was sure a couple of them must be cracked. That mid-fielder, Joshanal, hit like a Tarkanian bull. He’d have to get the doc to check him out when he got back to Enterprise. He shivered again. It was cold, but the cold feeling left him feeling sort of sick. He wanted water, but the water Archer had boiled and made him drink was worse than "essence of the male" and he didn't think he could stomach any more. Archer said he had to drink it, but what did Archer know? He was too busy raving about Rhode Island chickens and Scottish dogs and asking what he wanted for supper when there wasn’t a scrap of food to be had.

While Archer was busy, he could finally get some shut-eye. Sleep always made him feel better. If he could just sleep, everything would be all right. He closed his eyes and drifted toward the welcome oblivion when a voice said:

“Charles Tucker the Third! You get your sorry ass up and get moving, right this minute!”

Trip cracked an eye open a fraction and saw…

“Natalie!” Before him stood a young woman, cool as a cucumber, blonde hair perfectly in place and she was wearing…that dress. The yellow sun-dress with the little rosebuds on it and the thin little straps that slipped off so easily when he took them off her that time. He loved that dress.

She was also looking very annoyed. “Don’t you ‘Natalie’ me! If you think you’re going to give up and die here in the desert before you can come back to me, then you have another thing coming, mister!”

“Come back to you?!?!? Excuse me, but aren’t you the same person who wrote me the ‘Dear John’ letter and kicked me to the curb?”

“Kicked you to the curb? Just who got kicked to the curb here?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She was pacing now, one well-manicured hand on her hip. “You should beg my pardon.” At Trip’s look of confusion, she took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “Trip, do you remember how we met?”

“Sure. You were Fruit Queen or something and I was asked to be your escort.”

“Citrus Queen, not Fruit Queen, silly. And yes, fate brought us together and that whole summer we were absolutely inseparable, if I remember correctly.”

Trip, his eyes half closed, smiled in self-satisfaction. “Fate did not bring us together, I did. I asked to be your escort after seeing you in the parade. They wanted one of the cadets to be escort, and I was determined to be it.”

“You were?”

“Yup. I saw you in your little tiara on that float, waving to the crowd,” he wiggled his fingers in demonstration, “and I fell like a ton of bricks.”

The annoyed look disappeared, replaced by one of pleased wonder. “You did?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh. Well…aren’t you sweet?”

“I was sorta hoping you would think so.”

“Well…anyway, do you remember taking me to the park to see the fireworks?”

“Oh, yes.” His answer was emphatic.

“You bought me a cherry sno-cone, but you only had enough money for one, so we had to share?”

“Uh huh. And we sort of met in the middle.” He remembered the taste of cherry sno-cone on her lips.

Natalie smiled. “Uh huh. And then you asked me to go with you for the weekend to your parent’s lake house?”

“That I did.”

“Well, I thought your parents were going to be there, but as it turned out, it was just as well they weren’t.”

“You can say that again.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she giggled. He remembered another time he’d heard that giggle. He really liked that giggle. “I could sure use a dip in that lake right now.”

“I thought things were going pretty well with us.”

“They were.”

“I thought our relationship was progressing.”

“It was.”

“Then you asked me to go to supper with you at Del Monico’s. You said you had something to discuss with me.”

“I did.”

“Well, I thought you were going to…I thought…”

“What?”

“Well, I damn sure didn’t think you were going to tell me that you were taking a mission that would take you away from me for years at a time. I thought you were going to discuss our relationship, but THAT’S when you “kicked me to the curb” as you so distinctly put it.”

“Oh, now Nat…”

“Don’t call me Nat!”

“Natalie, honey, that’s my job. You knew that. You’re daddy is in Star Fleet, after all. Anyway, I was sort of hoping you’d wait until I got back…”

“And how long would that be? I can’t wait indefinitely, you know!”

Trip sighed. “I guess not.” There was defeat in his voice.

“After you left, I was brokenhearted. After all, I thought you didn’t want me anymore. One day Bobby Caldwell came up to me and said that you were a quote “damn fool” unquote, for leaving me, and any man would be lucky to have me. That made me feel so much better, and Bobby wanted to date me, so…”

“So you wrote me that Dear Trip letter, huh?”

“Well, yes, but later I realized that I just did it to hurt you, like you’d hurt me, and Bobby Caldwell is sort of a jerk, isn’t he?”

Trip looked smug. “I always thought so.”

“Which leads us back to square one. You had better get yourself out of this desert and get back home to me…so I can apologize to you and make things right between us. You hear me?”

Trip grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am!”

As her figure faded away, she smiled and said softly, “I love you, Trip, and I miss you. Come back to me.” And then she was gone.

Archer came rushing back from the window shouting something. "Wha…?" he asked, disoriented. The next thing Trip knew, Archer landed on top of him and a blast shook the building.

********************

He awoke in sick bay. Dr. Phlox was running a scan over him, and commenting to someone out of his range of vision.

“Aside from several severely bruised ribs, Mr. Tucker was suffering from heatstroke and was dehydrated, but I think he’ll make a full recovery.”

Archer appeared at his side, a smile on is face. “Thank you doctor. How are you feeling?”

Trip ran a hand over his face. “Okay. A little crispy, but okay.”

“Maybe this will help.”

“What’s that?”

Archer’s hand appeared from behind his back, holding a cherry sno-cone.

Trip’s mouth fell open. “Hey! When we were out in the desert…”

“I know, you told me.”

“Thanks, Cap’n.” Trip took the treat, took a bite out of it, and tasted Natalie Parker.

“This is good! Did Chef make it?”

Archer nodded. “I had him chopping ice as soon as Dr. Phlox released me.

“It’s almost as good as the real thing.” Minus a certain someone helping him eat it from the other side, that is. “Tell Chef I sure appreciate it, Cap’n.”.” He held the sno-cone up in salute.

“I will. He’ll be glad to hear you liked it.”

***************

“But, Trip, it was a delusion, you’re not sure if the real Natalie feels the same way.” Trip had told Archer about his “visit” from Natalie in the desert during his promised prime-rib dinner… with mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, of course.

“I know that, Cap, but it got me up and going when I was sure nothing would.” At Archer’s look he amended, “Well, sorta. It got me wanting to get up and get moving anyway, which is a long stretch from where I started out, believe me. Maybe the delusion was just my mind trying to keep me alive and figure out why she did what she did, but I gotta take the chance and find out.”

Archer clapped him on the back. “Well, good luck. I hope “Real Natalie” and “Hallucination Natalie” are on the same page.” Archer took the turn in the corridor, while Trip turned to the comm.-panel on the wall and hit the button.

“Tucker to Hoshi.”

“Go ahead, Commander.”

“Hoshi, when you got a minute, I need to send a sub-space message.”

“Understood.”

Fin

Warp back to the home page!