DRIVE

by Teela Jones

"So she just up and said that she couldn't promise to be faithful if you were gone more than a couple of weeks?" Lee asked incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Yeah," Chip answered with a tinge of hurt in his voice. "I told her I couldn't accept that and the next thing I knew she was storming out of the restaurant." 

  "Geez, buddy, how do you manage to pick 'em? I thought I was the only one that had that kind of hard luck." 

"Damned if I know," Chip replied with a sigh. "You begin to wonder if there's something fundamentally wrong with your personality, you know?"

"Of course, it could be looks, in your case," Crane teased with a twinkle in his eye. He was rewarded with a raspberry from across the table. The blond pointed at his Captain with a spoon and narrowed his eyes. 

"I wouldn't talk, if I were you. Whose girlfriend kept nagging about a certain someone being too skinny? Let's see, what was his name?" 

"Ex-girlfriend," he corrected. "Hey, I had no idea she'd be so obsessive about it. And I'm not that skinny." 

Chip snorted and rolled his eyes. A grin finally crept on his face; in all the years they had been friends, Lee had never failed to cheer him up when he needed it most. He teased his Captain even more. 

"Good thing there's not a strong wind on the Seaview. We'd have to anchor you down."

"I'm not skinny!" Lee protested in an offended tone. "I'm fit. There's a big difference-"

"Yeah, sure, believe that if you want." He took a sip of his coffee and gave Crane a patronizing look. Just then, the waitress came to the table and plunked down a large piece of peach pie in front of Lee.

"Oh- there must be some mistake," he said to the smiling woman. "I didn't order any-"

"Compliments of the house. Looks like you could use it, dear. My treat."

Lee started to sputter a reply but Chip spoke first, barely able to hold in his laughter.

"Thanks, ma'am. He needs all the help he can get." The waitress left with a wink and the Exec turned to a red-faced Lee.

"That is not funny!" Crane hissed. "If I didn't know better, I would have called that a set-up."

"Truth is truth, Lee. Hey... you going to eat that whole thing?" he added hopefully. The pie looked supreme.

"I'll eat every bite just because you want some," he said pointedly. "And," he continued, "I'm still not that skinny."

Morton sat back and laughed at his friend's petulant tone. A moment later, Lee's mouth twitched into a grin, then blossomed into a wide smile. Pushing the pie between them, he gestured with his fork for Chip to join in. Together, they made short work of the desert and finished their coffee. When the Exec tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table for a tip, Lee paused and regarded him oddly.

"Chip 'Scrooge-Was-An-Amateur' Morton, leaving that huge a tip? What gives?"

"Are you kidding? I'd pay twice that much to see that expression on your face again. When she put that pie down in front of you-"

"You are sad, Morton. Pathetic, even. If I had known you were so easily entertained-"

"The Admiral is going to love this story," he declared with a wicked glint in his eye.

"You wouldn't!" Lee exclaimed. "It's bad enough Jamieson gets on my case. You can't get the Admiral in on it, too!"

"Oh? And how bad do you want the tale silenced?"

Lee groaned.

"All right. What will it take to keep your mouth shut?"

"Well, I'm in a generous mood," Chip said magnanimously. "My price for silence is... I get to drive your car the rest of the afternoon."

"What?" Lee said, aghast. "Not my baby!"

"Come on. You know I'll take care of her like she was my own. It's that or I'll make sure the Chief hears of it too. You know how fast the grapevine is on board..."

"I ought to raise the Jolly Roger in your honor when we get back to the boat."

"Keys," Chip said as he held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. Reluctantly Lee forked them over.

"But I'm going with you," he stated. "I'd trust you with my life, but my car is something else."

"Chicken. Your 'baby' will enjoy the fact that a good driver is behind the wheel for a change. Okay, Mister Paranoid, come on. Hmm ... I feel like a nice long drive up on Ocean Ridge."

"With all those hairpin turns and sharp corners?" Lee asked anxiously.

"You trust me to drive a nuclear submarine on a daily basis," Chip reminded him.

"But this is my-"

"Baby. Yeah, yeah, let's go. Time's a-wasting."

Eventually Lee stopped clutching the dashboard with white-knuckled hands and sat back, beginning to enjoy the ride. Chip really was an excellent driver, but he'd never let him know. Soon they had lapsed into a comfortable, familiar silence as they wound down the scenic drive.

"Sure is beautiful," he said at last, taking in the sun-dappled view. "It's kind of a nice change."

Chip smiled in agreement.

"Well, you're not my first choice for a driving date but I have to admit this is fun."

"I'm your only choice, Morton. And for God's sake, don't refer to this as a 'date'."

"Is that a little insecurity I hear there?" he teased good-naturedly. "You know, if a man is really certain of his-"

"Chip!" Lee cried suddenly as another car came around the corner, straddling their lane and out of control. Chip went to the right, trying to avoid a head-on collision, but the car was going too fast to respond well. A sickening jolt as they hit the guard rail, a fleeting second of relief when the car seemed to straighten out... then, a mad conglomeration of noise and images and panic as the vehicle plunged off the road and rolled. Complete disorientation, for a moment, was followed swiftly by darkness.

Chip's first sensation was of pain. It thrummed through his entire body, too powerful to be pinpointed to one spot. He blinked once, twice, not able to understand where he was and why things looked so strange. Slowly his thinking cleared and he realized, with a start, that he was hanging upside down by his seatbelt. When he tried to move his arm, a searing shot of pain generated an involuntary cry which echoed eerily around him. He noticed the silence then, a deep, terrifying lack of sound...

No, wait. There was a sound, subtle and rhythmic, very close by. Water, dripping slowly. Strange, that. Where would water be coming from? It hadn't been raining. He blinked again, fighting to clear his blurring vision. He concentrated despite the nauseating waves of pain that tried to drown him. He had been driving down the road, enjoying the day-

In a flash, he remembered the sickening sensations of the crash: the scream of torn metal, the terrible sound of shattering glass, the world spinning around and around as the car rolled down the ravine...

The thought jarred the very breath out of him. Frantically, he fought to turn around to the passenger's seat. Between the injury to his arm and the metal that was pinning his leg, it was extremely difficult. Darkness closed in twice, but his need to find Crane propelled him to try again. Finally, he managed to tilt the steering wheel enough so he could twist. When his vision cleared, he focused on the still figure suspended next to him. For a moment, Chip's mind went blank with shock at the sight.

Lee's skin was ghostly pale, frightening even in the subdued light. Worse still was the dark crimson that seemed to be everywhere, running down from a gash on his head to the inverted roof below. In horror, Chip realized that the dripping he'd heard earlier wasn't water at all. It was blood, Lee's blood.

He called the Captain's name over and over but got no response. All efforts to dislodge himself from the wreck led to naught, and soon he was exhausted. Fighting nausea and despair, Chip tried to rest a bit.

This can't be happening, he thought in shock. We survive nuclear meltdowns and enemy fire and every weird creature on land, in sea and from space... Yet here I am, trapped in a crumpled bunch of metal, listening to my best friend bleed to death! He shivered, suddenly cold. This isn't fair! he railed at the universe. If Lee had been driving...

The thought stopped him instantly. He had been driving, not Crane... it was his fault, his responsibility. Lee had trusted him and he had failed completely. If they ever got out of there alive... if... Lee would never be able to trust him again. He wasn't sure how he could live with his guilt. And if Lee should die...

Icy fingers of stark, black fear shot through him and he broke into a cold sweat. The very thought of witnessing the slow death of his best friend was so repulsive that he simply could not deal with it. Pain flared and numbness seemed to take over his mind; he drifted into unconsciousness without any real resistance.

When he woke an unknowable time later, he realized something had changed. At first he thought it was the light, but that wouldn't explain the pang of fear that gripped him. Something important... the answer eluded him for several labored heartbeats. Then, he knew.

The dripping sound had slowed considerably. That meant... one of two things. One, that the wound on Lee's head was coagulating... or two, that Lee had bled so much there wasn't a lot of blood left in his body. And that meant...

Chip couldn't finish the thought. He had never, in his whole lifetime, felt as utterly helpless as he did at that moment. He wanted to cry, to rage, to scream to the top of his lungs... but he couldn't. A strange lethargy had begun to creep up on him and he gave in to it, unwilling or unable to resist any longer. The logical, analytical side of him told him he was going into shock, but he couldn't care. As the blackness approached, he felt the wetness of a single tear run up his face.

"Sorry, Lee," he whispered with deep anguish. "I'm so sorry..." The world faded again.

Voices, shouted words that were just beyond comprehension, brought him out of the darkness. A mechanical sound, very close by, frightened him and he struggled to move. Then, a face materialized, upside down, in front of him. A man's face, broad and bearded. He spoke calmly and gave Chip a brief smile.

"Easy, pal. We're going to get you out of there real soon. Can you tell me about your pain?"

"Lee, you... you have to get him out first-" he protested, panic rising rapidly. "He's bleeding-"

"The others will get him out, I promise. My job is to get you out, and I'm going to need your help. Now, it looks like you're pinned in there pretty good. Talk to me."

"I c-can't move," he said as he shivered slightly. "I tried to reach him but..."

"He's in good hands. What's your name? Can you tell me that?"

"M-morton. Chip Morton. I... he's Lee Crane."

"Okay, Chip. I want you to concentrate on me now. Where is the most pain coming from?"

"My arm... my left arm, and my shoulder. My legs are stuck... I can't really feel them, but I could move them earlier."

"What about your head? Your neck or back?"

"Is he going to be alright?" he asked with fear, ignoring the question.

"He has the best help available, I promise you. What about your head?"

"I... it's painful, like I hit something hard. It seems less than before. There's kind of a ringing in my ears..."

"Trouble with vision?"

"Not now, but before everything got fuzzy. I guess I passed out a couple of times."

"I reckon you did. But there's no neck or back pain, eh? Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?" Though it took some effort, Chip did so. The man nodded in approval. "Now we get you out of that seatbelt. Don't worry about falling, I've got you covered."

"But what about my legs? They won't budge an inch."

"We can handle that with some special equipment... maybe you heard the sound like a chainsaw before. We'll use it to open a gap in the metal. Unfortunately it's noisy and you'll probably feel a good deal of pressure. We'll work as quickly as possible but you need to be still. Now this will hurt, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. If you feel the need to yell or pass out, just let yourself go. Ready?"

The next few minutes became a blur of noise and disorientation. Immense pain erupted for an instant, nearly robbing him of consciousness, but he snapped back through sheer will. The world flipped, dimmed, and solidified.

"How you doin', pal?" said the man from before. "The worst is over. We'll get you on your way to the hospital so they can check you out."

"N-no," he said shakily. "I have to get Lee, he needs to go-"

"Got someone on it. He'll be in the ambulance right behind us," he promised the Exec as he tightened the stretcher straps carefully. Gently another blanket was draped over him and they began to move.

"How is he?" Chip asked warily, desperate to know but afraid of the answer.

"Don't worry about your friend. He's got the best helping him," the man said reassuringly. "We're going to lift you now, and the ride probably won't be too smooth. Just try to relax."

Understatement of the year, Chip managed to think before the jostling ignited the pain and drove all awareness away.

"Chip? Can you hear me, son?"

The voice was familiar, one he knew nearly as well as his own. He opened his eyes, surprised to find a concerned face hovering scant inches from his own. Blue eyes, glittering with intensity...

"A-admiral?" he said fuzzily. "Where-"

"You're at Mercy General Hospital," the older man explained in a gentle tone.

"No," he breathed, willing the Admiral to understand. "Where... is Lee?"

"Never you mind about Lee. How do you feel?"

"What are you not telling me?" he asked as panic clenched him, hard. "The accident ... Lee was bleeding right next to me and ... and ..." Horror erupted as a terrible thought occurred. "He's ... is he dead? Oh, God, I tried to move, tried to-"

"Easy, Chip," Nelson said firmly. "Listen to me. Lee is alive, upstairs in surgery as we speak. He's got the finest medical team they can assemble. We have to have faith in their abilities. Right now, I'm worried about you. You have more than your fair share of injuries, lad. Feeling any pain?"

He was surprised to discover the answer was no. To his puzzled look, Nelson said,

"They've got you on a bunch of painkillers. What do you remember about the accident?"

With a leaden heart he described the events that were forever etched in his mind. Every detail seemed to blaze in his memory with vivid, appalling clarity. The world spinning crazily, sickeningly... the terror of being out of control... crimson against ashen white...

Harriman's gentle grip on his arm broke the spell. With a look of compassion, he urged the blond to continue. Chip haltingly finished the narrative, then met the Admiral's eyes with great effort.

"...and it was all my fault," he whispered painfully. "Lee could die because of-"

"Stop. According to the police, you are not to blame. The person who ran you off the road was in the wrong. He didn't stop after the accident but called the authorities about two hours later. That's why it took so long to get help there."

"But I lost control of Lee's car and couldn't keep it from..." he stopped, choking at the flashback that suddenly appeared. Gently, Harriman placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"Chip, listen to me. It was an accident. No one could have done anything different, no one could have avoided it. Blaming yourself will do no one any good, especially Lee."

"What do you mean, especially?" he asked as he searched the other's face.

"Lee will need a long time to heal, and a hell of a lot of support. He'll need your friendship now more than ever before."

The blond said bleakly, "He won't even want to see me."

Nelson held his silence until Chip looked up. In a low, sincere voice he spoke.

"Son, I know for a fact that Lee loves you like a brother. He's told me so on several occasions, and I don't doubt his word. Unless I'm way off base, I'm thinking you feel the same. That kind of bond is strong enough to weather something like this. Trust me, I've been there. Don't put a wedge between the two of you with your guilt."

Chip considered his words for a long moment.

"He said that?"

"That, and more. Outside of his mother, you are the closest thing he has to family."

The Exec pondered that particular revelation for a bit. Sure, he knew they were the best of friends, but for Lee to think of him as a brother... Lee Crane, who shied from deep relationships as a matter of habit, had told the Admiral that he considered Chip family?

Seeing the puzzlement appear on Morton's face, Nelson gave him a small smile.

"You need to rest, Chip. You've been through a lot these last couple of days."

"Couple of days?"

"Hmm. I guess you don't remember waking up before. Doc Jamieson has been here since we found out what happened, and he reported you waking three or four times and answering questions and such. I'm sure he'll be in soon to check on you now that you seem really aware."

"If it's been a couple of days, why is Lee in surgery only now?"

Harriman swallowed hard. Grimly he said,

"He lost a lot of blood. So much so that they had to delay major surgery until they could get a steady blood pressure to register. The moment he stabilized they took him up. It's been... about four hours now."

"What-" he stopped, emotions stealing his words. He could still see the blood dripping...

"Doc can tell you about his injuries when he gets here. I'm going up to check on Lee's progress and I'll give you an update as soon as I know anything. You... are you going to be okay?" he added, concerned at the stricken expression on the younger man's face.

"That depends on what happens to Lee," he said thinly. All at once his energy seemed to drain and he closed his eyes tiredly.

"Rest, son. You need to heal first before you can help Lee. I'll be back soon."

"Thanks, sir," came the sleepy reply.

"Chip? Come on, wake up. It's Doc Jamieson." 

"Doc?" he said groggily, looking up at the familiar face. 

"Indeed. This is getting to be a habit, Commander," he said with a kind smile. "How do you feel?" 

"Um. Kind of fuzzy." 

"Drugs," he explained simply. "How's the pain?" 

"Feels a little sore... my shoulder, something happened to it, I think." 

"Dislocated it, you mean. Add to the list one broken collarbone, one fractured arm, numerous cuts and abrasions on your legs, and a nasty concussion. You'll feel the bruised ribs once some of the painkillers wear off; luckily you weren't thrown forward into the steering wheel or you would have broken some for sure." 

"How's Lee?" 

"He's out of surgery and in ICU at the moment under watch. He came through the first operation a lot better than we expected." 

"Has he woke up yet?" 

"No. I don't think he'll be waking up too soon. The injuries were... extensive," he said tentatively. "We've got him under heavy sedation, mostly to keep him stable and give his body the rest it needs." 

"What... what injuries? How bad is he?" What did I do to him? 

"Chip," Jamieson said evenly, "I don't think you're ready to hear all the details. It's really too soon-" 

"Doc, please." 

The physician looked at the pain behind the blue eyes and relented. 

"Major concussion and a fractured skull. CAT scans don't indicate much physical damage but we won't know about the higher brain functions until he wakes and we can evaluate him. The gash on his head took eleven stitches, but luckily the surgeon who sewed him up is meticulous. He won't have a noticeable scar once it heals. He lost a hell of a lot of blood, and that's been the biggest roadblock we've faced." 

"And-?" he said as his mouth went suddenly dry. 

"And he has significant internal injuries. I'm not going into details, no matter how much you ask. Suffice it to say, we are planning on a series of surgeries to repair the damage one step at a time." 

"How many are we talking?" 

"A minimum of four." 

The Exec blanched as the news registered. Alarmed, Jamieson reached out and touched his arm.  

"He's a fighter, you know that," he offered. "He's pulled through some tough things." 

"Never this tough." Chip couldn't keep the anguish out of his voice when he added, "And it's never been because... because of me." 

Doc watched Morton's eyes shut against the declaration and instant sympathy leapt from his heart for the younger man. Nelson had been right; Chip thoroughly believed it was his fault the accident had occurred. 

"I want you to think about something," Jamie said quietly. "If Lee had been driving, and the same accident had taken place, would you blame him for injuring you? Would you hate him for your pain? Resent him for disrupting your life?" 

"Doc, I-" 

"Just consider that for a while. Chip, I'm going to give you a sedative to help you rest. That's what you need most right now." The doctor adjusted a valve on the I.V. next to the bed. 

"I wish I could trade places with him," the blond mumbled as waves of soft fog rolled over his perceptions. 

"I know. Rest easy, Commander. It's going to be all right." 

Chip did not have time to voice his doubts before oblivion descended.

He woke, propelled out of a fitful sleep by the uncomfortable level of heat in the room. It was far too hot, and with irritation he pushed the blankets off of him. Coolness rewarded his efforts and he sank back, surprised at how much energy the short task had taken. Pain began to grow as he rested, coming from a variety of sources. Soon his skin was prickling with sensation and even the soft cotton sheets felt rough and scratchy. When he threw back the last of the covers, the relief lasted only a few moments. The heat disappeared, replaced by a chill that seemed to come over him in a wave. It deepened rapidly and he was dismayed to find himself shivering. He was fumbling for the covers when Doc entered the room. One look at the Exec and Jamieson came to his side quickly. 

"D-doc," he said as he shook, "I'm so c-cold..." 

Jamie placed a hand on the blond's forehead and frowned briefly. 

"You've got a fever, Chip." 

"I'm not hot," he protested. 

"I know. It'll be okay. Here, let's get those blankets back in place." 

The covers held no warmth and Chip found himself shaking uncontrollably. Jamieson's voice seemed to rise and fall and he struggled to pay attention to what the doctor was saying. Other voices, strange and unfamiliar, drifted over him, but he was too confused to care. All he could focus on was the cold, the deep cold that settled in his very bones. The intense chill robbed him of thought and reason, and he drifted, unanchored, through a haze of images... 

red, the red car with the immaculate chrome trim...
the sky at night, somewhere in the middle of the Pacific...
a smiling woman, speaking words that seemed foreign...
laughter behind amber eyes...
crimson, a crimson waterfall, growing and surging before him...
the flash of keys, golden keys that glittered in the sun...
the plotting table, charts and sliderules scattered about...
ashen flesh, marked with red...
darkness, a bleak darkness that allowed no light...
Then, a figure.
Thin, gaunt, dark-haired and angular, the form pointed to him and demanded 'Why?'
He could not speak, could not move!...
it approached relentlessly, the fire in it's eyes blazing with accusation...
he could not run, could not hide...
crimson and ash and blackness...

With a ragged gasp, Chip surfaced from the nightmarish collage like a diver from the depths. Instantly there were hands that gripped him and he fought for a brief moment, terrified the spectral figure had finally caught up with him. 

"Chip! Steady, lad! It was a dream, a bad dream. You're all right, it was just a dream." 

"I... what..." 

"You've been delirious from the fever. Look at me. Can you focus?" 

Chip did so, despite the difficulty. He took in deep breaths, willing his pounding heart to calm. Nelson stood by his side, a tense look on his face. 

"Admiral, sir," he said roughly. 

"Commander?" came a voice from behind Nelson. "Are you with us to stay this time?" 

"I think so," came the uncertain reply. "I feel... like hell." He was shocked at how drained of energy he seemed to be, and his entire body ached with a teeth-grinding intensity. He felt hollow and spent as he fixed his gaze on Jamieson. 

"You look like hell," the doctor conceded with a small smile. "You gave us all a scare, Mister Morton." 

"Not... my idea of fun," he admitted. 

"Mine, either. You had some pretty powerful delirium dreams... we couldn't wake you up. Do you remember them?" 

Chip shivered, then nodded. Jamie put a comforting hand on his arm. 

"Well, don't worry. The fever is gone now and you need to rest quietly to rebuild your strength." 

"Lee?" he wanted to know.  

"Is recovering from his second surgery. He's doing well." 

"His second?" Chip repeated, frowning as he sought to understand. 

"You have been out of the loop for a bit, son," Nelson explained. "It's been a while." 

"How long?" he asked tiredly. Sleep was pulling at him now, making his eyelids heavier with every second. 

"Three and a half days," the Admiral said carefully. 

"You developed complications we hadn't anticipated," Jamieson offered in an even voice. "It was quite a battle." 

"Did I win or lose?" he asked as he shut his eyes. 

There was a soft chuckle from Nelson. 

"You won, Chip. The worst is over now. You're going to be just fine." 

As he drifted off, he was uncertain if the gentle touch on his forehead was genuine or imagined... then, he didn't care at all.

vvvvv 

"I want out of this damned bed, Jamie," he said through clenched teeth. 

"Tell me something I don't know," he volleyed back. "You've been driving the staff crazy with that impatience of yours. You have to get your rest, Chip." 

"I have to get up!" he exclaimed, struggling to rise on his own. 

"You need rest," the doctor insisted. "What's the great rush?" 

Chip sank back onto his pillow, dismayed at his weakness. In a measured voice he said, "I need to see Lee." 

Jamieson's expression softened for a moment. 

"But he's still unconscious, still in ICU. He won't know you are there." 

Don't be so sure, Chip thought stubbornly. Over the years he and the Captain had developed an almost psychic connection, an intuitive awareness of each other that made them a formidable team. If there was even the slightest chance... 

"Please, Jamie. I need to know... to see him with my own eyes." Chip loathed begging, but he would do whatever was necessary to see Lee for himself. Not that he didn't trust the doctor... 

"All right," Will relented. "But only under my terms. Agreed?" 

"Yes. Anything." 

"First, you must accept help moving. You are weaker than you realize and I will not have your mulish pride destroy half the work we've done so far. Second, the visit will be very brief. Third, you will rest quietly for the remainder of the day, no arguments allowed." 

"I need to see him," he said flatly. 

Jamieson gauged his expression and finally nodded his head. He helped Chip into a sitting position, steadying the young officer as he swayed with dizziness. It passed quickly and he fetched a wheelchair from the hall. Before Morton could protest, he held up a warning hand and said, "My way or no way. Your choice." 

With a sigh, Chip accepted the offered hand and maneuvered into the chair. He would never confess it to the doctor, but the simple act had been terribly draining and it was all he could do to keep from slumping over. 

The trip was brief, and soon they were at the ICU door. Will paused before entering and looked at Chip with dark, serious eyes. 

"He's not looking good right now. There was a lot of bruising and he's hooked up to quite a few monitors and tubes. I assure you he is doing well. Now, do you think you can handle this?" 

"Yes. I just need..." The words stopped, caught in his throat. 

"It's okay. I understand. Here we go, then." 

Jamieson wheeled Chip around some equipment and he saw Lee for the first time since the accident. He drew his breath in sharply, a reaction to the still form on the bed. Lee's face was a mottled purplish color, the stark white bandage across his forehead a disturbing contrast. Swelling had confused the normally handsome features and Chip could barely recognize him. 

Oh my God, what have I caused? he thought as the nausea grew. Lee! 

The multitude of wires and tubes that surrounded his best friend's body made his gut clench with anxiety as the full impact of Crane's condition registered. 

He stared dazedly at his best friend. All of a sudden the conversation at the restaurant came back with an intensity he couldn't ignore. Sickened by the memory, he lost focus as the words came... 

A hard shake snapped him back. Jamieson was calling his name urgently. 

"No, Chip! Get a grip on yourself! He appears worse than he is... look at me." 

Chip felt his face go pale. With great effort he drew his gaze away from Lee and looked at the doctor. 

"I warned you. Trust me, he is doing quite well. Everyone, including me, is satisfied with his progress. I need you to pull yourself together, Commander. I need you to be strong; Lee needs you to be strong." 

"I... I conned him into letting me drive... He trusted me, and ..." 

"It was an accident," he interrupted forcibly. "It was not your fault." 

"Tell that to him," Chip managed to say in a strained whisper. Doc sighed. 

"I think that's enough for now." 

"No... I'm sorry, Doc, please, give me a minute. I... I hadn't imagined him like this." 

"One minute. Then no arguing." 

"T-thanks."  

The doctor moved away, giving him as much privacy as possible in the small confines of the room. The Exec simply stared at the man he'd come to care for like no other. He felt something snap, deep inside, and a wave of despair and regret swept through him in an instant. He had betrayed Lee's trust... 

Things would never be the same, and the pain from that loss threatened to overwhelm him. 

Numbly, without protest, he allowed Jamie to wheel him back to his room and settle him in the bed. Soon he felt the buffering sensation of a sedative wash over him. The last thing he heard was the soothing rumble of Will's voice punctuated by the electronic beat of the i.v. pump.

"Well, what do you think of the new conversions?" Harriman asked the blond before him. 

"I'd say they'll go a long way towards improving speed and maneuvering. The new features on FS1 will provide a lot more stability, too." 

"She'll be ready to go in a month's time. According to Doc, so will you." 

He could not meet Nelson's eyes. He studied the plans and specs on the desk as if they were the most interesting things on the planet. 

"Chip, talk to me." Nelson's voice had almost a pleading quality, and when the Exec finally met his gaze he realized the older man was truly, sincerely concerned. For a moment he readied a denial, but could not bring himself to utter it. His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his hair. 

"I'm... sorry, sir. The plans are a wonderful improvement-" 

"You know I'm not talking about the plans. I have watched you get more depressed each day, and I want you to tell me what's been haunting you so." 

"Admiral, I'm... not really that comfortable with this-" 

"Too bad," he snapped sharply. "I have been watching the best Exec I've ever known fall apart. I need you to get off this blasted guilt trip and move forward! You are not doing anyone any good, and quite frankly you need to get things into perspective." 

Chip's ire rose instantly. 

"Perspective?" he shot back. "Lee's still unconscious after two weeks and the longer it takes him to wake, the less chance he has of doing it. I am the major reason he is there, up in that bed!" 

"You cannot still be blaming yourself for that accident!" Harriman countered angrily. "I thought the police came and talked about it with you!" 

"No!" he said in a burst of frustration. "It's not the accident, it's the-" Chip froze the words, already having said too much. Damn. 

Nelson leaned forward with a satisfied look. 

"Thought so. Finish the sentence." 

Morton closed his eyes and forced himself to continue. He spoke in a low, weary voice. 

"He always seems so invulnerable, so capable of bouncing back, but this time... I don't know. Through my carelessness I've managed to destroy the bond of trust between us." 

"Chip," Nelson said in a quieter tone, "that bond isn't broken. He's not dead. He's healing beyond our greatest expectations, and when he regains consciousness I know he'll want you to be there with him, giving your support and friendship." He studied the Commander carefully. "What will he do without you to lean on? Surely you can't deny how much you two rely on one another." 

"None of that matters, now. He'll never forgive me." His flat, doomed declaration caused the older man to pause. 

"What is there to forgive? Did you wreck the car on purpose?" 

"No, of course not!" 

"Did you ignore his injuries and refuse to help him?" 

"I couldn't do anything," he grated. 

"But you tried. That's what counts. Chip, what's really the issue here?" 

It took several heartbeats for him to gather a response. He shifted his gaze back to the desk and said, "I failed. It's my job... to protect him." 

Nelson's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He couldn't stop an exasperated laugh from escaping his lips. 

"Your job? Lord have mercy, son, that would be the work of ten men! You are not responsible for what the universe throws at him. I know you don't really believe that. Sorry, I'm not buying it; try again." 

Chip's jaws clenched against the denial he longed to voice. Finally, he spoke. 

"I failed him, Admiral. I betrayed his trust in me and I put his life in danger. It's different because... because..." He stopped, the words entangled with emotion. 

"It's different than a dozen similar incidents because only now do you realize how deeply you care for him." Harriman's flat statement hit Chip, hard. "You were surprised when I told you that Lee thought of you like a brother, a member of his family. I think you never looked at your relationship that closely. Am I correct?" 

Chip frowned but held his silence. 

"And you feel guilty for never realizing it. Perhaps a bit taken aback at the implications." 

"He never said anything," Chip whispered painfully. 

"He didn't have to. Who does he turn to for support, comfort, advice, and balance? Who does he share the details of his life with, confess his fears and dreams to? He would never say it to your face, no. He isn't that kind of person... and neither are you." 

"I..." Morton drew a ragged breath. "You're right. I never realized." The confession darkened his blue eyes.  

Seeing how much the answer had cost the young officer, Nelson spoke in a soft tone. 

"Chip, son, it isn't too late. He's alive, not ten miles away, healing more and more every day. I have faith he will come out of this soon. When he does, he'll need you desperately. He'll need all of us."  

"What will Lee do when he realizes what I've done to him, to his life?" 

"He'll forgive you and move on." 

"I'm not so certain." 

"I am."

Nelson hurriedly waved Chip into his office as the young man answered the page. He was talking to someone on the phone and motioned the Exec closer. 

"...and the tests indicate what?... You're sure? ... How was he answering the questions?... I see. Yes, we'll come right away. Chip's here with me now. Tell him that, okay?" 

Harriman slapped the phone down and gave Chip an intense look.

"Lee's awake. They said everything seems back to normal... he was a little confused about what happened at first." 

Lee was awake! Chip's heart leapt at the news for a moment, then skipped a beat. If Lee was awake, it was likely their next encounter would end in the loss of their friendship. 

"Come on, lad. Let's go. He woke up asking for you." 

No doubt to blame me for the whole situation, Chip thought sourly. With a strange mix of elation and dread, he followed the Admiral out.

They were approached by Jamieson the moment they stepped off the elevator. 

"Good news gets better," he said as he escorted them down the hall. "The surgical team had decided that the fourth surgery is not necessary. The worst is over, gentlemen." 

At a nod from the doctor, Admiral Nelson entered the room first. Chip stood outside, his emotions turning into a maelstrom inside his head. What would he say? What could he say? The thought of the inevitable loss caused almost tangible pain. Sooner than he expected, the Admiral emerged from the room. 

"He really wants to see you, son. Go on in." 

It took every ounce of courage for Chip to comply. 

Lee was looking much better, it was true. The mottling bruises had faded away a great deal and the swelling had vanished. His eyes were closed and the blond hesitated just inside the doorway. Then, as if by some silent signal, Lee's amber eyes looked up and focused on the reluctant visitor. A myriad of expressions danced across his face and he spoke weakly. 

"Chip?" 

"Yes, Lee. I'm here." He crossed the room to stand by Crane's bed. 

"They wouldn't tell me much... are you okay? They said you... were hurt." 

"Just a bit bumped around." 

"You're wearing a sling and a cast. Bumped... isn't the correct word." Lee closed his eyes as he fought to concentrate. 

"You..." Chip began, swallowing hard against the word. "You got the worst of it." 

"You really okay?" Lee said in a serious voice, looking back at him with sympathy in his eyes. 

"Lee, about the accident, I-" 

"Just tell me you're all right," Crane insisted again. His voice held a pleading note, which puzzled Chip.  

"I'm fine. Should be back on full duty in a month." 

"Good," the bed-ridden man breathed. "Thank God. The doctors... no one would give me a straight answer. I was afraid they were keeping some things from me." 

"Do you remember the accident at all?" Morton asked with a voice weighted with dread. 

"I remember." He paled, just a little. "Up to the point we went over the guardrail." 

"I don't know how to say this, Lee. The accident... " He stumbled over the words. 

"What, Chip?" 

"It was my fault, and I don't blame you for hating me," he blurted out in a rush. 

"What?" Lee asked, totally perplexed. 

"You don't have to pretend, Lee. I was the one responsible for this whole thing. The accident, the car-" 

"The car? Who gives a good goddamn about the car?" he exclaimed. "My God, Chip, you could have been killed!" 

"You nearly were," he returned flatly. 

"But I wasn't." Lee put a hand to his forehead, wincing against the movement. 

"Not through any of my doing. I managed to-" 

"Stop, please," the Captain said in a small voice. "This is too confusing. I don't understand what you're saying. The accident wasn't your fault, Chip. How could you think that? If anything, you kept it from being a hell of a lot worse than it was." 

Dumbfounded at his words, his sincerity, Chip did not reply. 

"I woke up certain you... you were dead," Crane continued in an unsteady voice. "They didn't tell me anything at first and all of a sudden I was facing a life without you in it. I... I don't know how I would have gotten through that." 

"Lee, I-" 

"Nothing... matters, nothing but the fact you are okay." 

Awkwardly Chip sought for something to say. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke. 

"I'm sorry, Lee. I wish we could trade places." 

"Don't say that! You're hurt enough... as it is. And besides," he added with the smallest of smiles, "I have a lot more practice recovering in Sickbay. It'll give me a chance to put Jamie through his paces." 

Unexpectedly Chip felt a wetness on his cheek. Ignoring it, he leaned close and sought truth in amber eyes. Quietly, nearly afraid to ask the question, he forced himself to speak. 

"But don't you hate me for putting you through this hell?" 

Lee stared in shock for several heartbeats. Eyes wide with emotion and disbelief, he managed a choked whisper. 

"Hate you? Chip, how... how could I ever hate you? Oh, God, is that what you've been thinking?" He paled a bit more, alarming the Exec.  

"Lee, are you okay?" 

"All this time you thought I could..." Lee stopped, his anguish visible on his face. "My mother was right." 

"Your mother?" he asked, confused. 

"She told me a long time ago that I should make an effort to show more of my feelings. To let the people I care about know for certain how I felt. But I... it's just too hard for me. The time never felt right, and ... well, I thought you and I didn't need words." He blinked against misted eyes. "Chip, I could no more hate you than I could hate myself. You are too important to me, to my life. Please... please believe me." 

Morton swallowed against the sudden constriction in his throat. 

"I'm sorry I never told you about how close I feel to you, either. It's not something I find I'm comfortable with." The Exec drew a resigned breath. "I won't ever make that mistake again." 

"Me either." 

Chip reached out and grasped Lee's hand. Silently they stared at each other for a handful of seconds, not caring about the embarrassment that rose to the surface. Lee finally gave the Exec a broad grin that reflected the light that had risen in his eyes. He was rewarded with one of Morton's rare, incandescent smiles. 

"Welcome back," Chip said as the burden he'd been staggering under vanished in an instant. 

"Thanks. You, too."

"Well, Commander, how does it feel being released?" Jamieson asked as he brought the wheelchair to the exit doors. 

"Beyond wonderful. Longest five weeks of my entire life," Lee replied emphatically. 

"Lee, lad! You look eager to get home," Nelson said by way of greeting. He held the door open.  

"More than eager. Has anyone seen Chip?" 

"He's bringing the car around," Harriman said non-committally. He exchanged a secret smile with Will. 

"I can't w-" Lee stopped in shock as a gleaming red car pulled up to the waiting group. "It's... it's just like... but..." 

The tall blond hopped out of the driver's seat and joined the trio. Lee's astonishment turned into delight and he grabbed his best friend's arm in excitement. 

"How-? It's just like my car...but that's impossible! Where did you find it? How did you get it?" 

"I have my ways," Chip replied with a grin.  

"And having a hard-headed Admiral pushing the insurance through didn't hurt, either," Nelson chuckled. 

"Here, Lee." Morton dropped the keys into his hand. 

For a long moment Crane stared at the golden keys. Then, with a genuine smile, he held them out to Chip. 

"You drive." 

Knowing the meaning behind the words, Chip felt an elation he nearly couldn't contain. The last remnants of doubt were forever banished with that one, simple declaration of trust.  

"Thanks," he said, taking the offered keys. "Let's go home."