Payment in Full - Chapter 11

Payment in Full - Chapter 11 TITLE:                      PAYMENT IN FULL- CHAPTER 11
AUTHOR:                 PIPPIN
RATING:                   NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
PAIRING:                  Archer/Trip

SETTING: Minor spoilers: "Stigma"; "First Flight" and "The Expanse". Set after the events of "Savior".

FEEDBACK: Always! [email protected]

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters. I’m just borrowing them, and promise to return them safe and sound. The only thing I gain from this is some writing practice.

SUMMARY: Everything has a price.

Chapter 11

Trip blinked, looked around the room. How long had he been asleep? By the way he felt, quite a while. He looked at his bedside clock. Just a little past one p.m. He shifted slightly, and propped himself up on an elbow, reached over the damn bedrail Phlox insisted on erecting, and got his ginger ale. When he finished, he exchanged that for his padd. Might as well catch up on the backlog of engineering reports.

Access Denied. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Looked like Phlox was still mad. The doctor had sure given both of them holy merry hell last night. Trip got the rough side of Phlox’s tongue for getting a fever, and then for getting frisky, and Jon for not reporting Trip’s fever, and for then participating in the friskiness. Phlox had even threatened to take Trip back to Sickbay and keep him there. Jon had finally managed to calm the doctor down, but there was no doubt that they were both in the doghouse.

Okay, if he couldn’t catch up on engineering reports, what about some light reading?

Access Denied. Damn. You wouldn’t think that Lord of the Rings was that dangerous, would you? He sighed. He was beginning to suspect that he was being subjected to the Denobulan equivalent of being sent to bed without supper.

Obviously, Phlox thought reading was too much of a strain. All right, how about a movie? That wouldn’t engage too much energy, would it?

Access Denied. What the …? This was getting ridiculous. He was going to call Phlox right now and raise hell. What did Phlox expect him to do all afternoon? Lay there fuming, staring at the ceiling? Right. That would be really relaxing.

Before he could thumb the intercom, the door opened. He looked over, expecting to see Malcolm. Instead, Subcommander T’Pol’s calm, even gaze met his own.

“Is there something you require, Commander?”

Trip surreptitiously cleared the warning message off the screen. “I require something to do. Would you help me open up a book or a movie?.”

She came to his bedside, looked down on him. He tried to hand her the padd, and gave her his best puppy-dog look. Of course, this turned out to be totally useless.

“Doctor Phlox has been quite specific. You are to rest this afternoon. Preferably by sleeping.”

He sighed. “I rested all morning.”

She shook her head again. “The doctor’s orders stand.”

“Damn.” He looked at her, considering, then realized something. “Wait a minute. Why are you here?” He looked at his bedside clock again. “It’s lunch time. Jon – I mean, the Captain – is the one who usually comes by.”

“Correct. “

“Is something going on that I should know about?”

“Enterprise is proceeding on course as planned.” she replied.

He waited patiently for her to tell him where they were going, but she simply stood there silently. He finally admitted defeat. “OK. Where are we going and what are we going to do when we get there?”

“The ship is heading to the Rasham System. When it arrives, the Stellar Cartography department will map the system, and the Science Department will be scanning the system’s star, a blue giant. You will not be well enough to participate.”

Damn Vulcan literalness anyhow. “OK. Nothing critical. So why isn’t the Captain here?”

“Doctor Phlox requested that I attend to your needs today.”

“You mind telling me why?”

“Because the doctor felt that I would not be susceptible to your blandishments. Unlike the Captain, or other members of the bridge crew.”

“Blandishments?”

“It means – “

“I know what it means.” He was irritated. She must think I’m dumber than a bag of hammers.

He got a raised eyebrow in response. Now I suppose she’s gonna tell me I don’t need to get upset. He glowered at her, waiting. Instead, she gave him a long, measuring look. “Are you hungry?”

He blinked, startled. After a brief consideration, he shook his head, then winced. Naturally, T’Pol was all over that like white on rice. “You are in discomfort.”

“Yeah. I kind of overdid it last night.” Please, God - don’t let her ask me how. “So my head aches. And my stomach is kind of upset. I hate to admit it, but I guess Phlox is right. The longer I stay awake, the worse I feel. Guess I should try and get a little more sleep.”

“Please turn your head,” was her response.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Turn your head.”

He stared at her for a minute, then mentally shrugged. Whatever. He obeyed, turning his head so that he was looking away from her. He felt her dry, hot hands on his neck, and then she was pressing, hard, behind his ear. A starburst of pain rocketed through his skull. “Hey! What the hell?”

“The discomfort will be momentary,” she said in the same, even tone. And damn if she wasn’t right; the headache began to ebb away. She continued the same, steady, even pressure, and a moment later, it was gone. “What did you do?”

“Vulcan Neuro Pressure,” she replied. “It operates on principles similar to human acupuncture.”

“Well, it worked. My headache’s gone.”

“The relief will only be temporary.”

“Temporary?”

“Eight to ten hours.”

“Works for me.”

“Your neck and shoulders are too tense. This may bring the pain back sooner.”

“Oh. Can this accu stuff fix that?”

“Indeed. But first, I believe that we should attend to the stomach upset.”

“Uh – “ The idea of her pressing down on his still-tender stomach was not pleasant. She surprised him, though, by moving to the end of the bed, and lifting the blankets off his feet. She lifted his uninjured leg, and his toes clenched in response. “Subcommander – “

“This will not be painful.”

“It’s not that. My feet are sensitive.” When she looked at him, uncomprehending, he explained: “I’m ticklish. Really ticklish.” He didn’t tell her that Jon loved to tease him by tickling his feet and sucking on his toes. Too much information.

“I will not be ‘tickling’ you, Commander. Please try to relax.” She dug in both thumbs into a spot about half-way down the arch of his foot. There was no pain; just the sensation of increasing pressure. He was about to tell her that it didn’t seem to be working, when he realized that the nausea he had been fighting back all morning was gone.

“That’s a neat trick.”

She lowered his foot, replaced the blankets. “It is no ‘trick’ Commander; merely an understanding of neural pathways and how to stimulate the body’s natural healing mechanisms.”

Inwardly, he sighed. “OK. Thank you.”

“I am not finished.”

“My head’s fine; so’s my stomach. What else needs fixing?”

“As I stated, you are far too tense. As well, Doctor Phlox wants you to sleep this afternoon.”

He sighed. A look at her resolute countenance, and he realized that there was no way he would win this argument. “OK,” he said reluctantly. “Whatever.”

“Can you lie on your side, facing away from me?”

“I guess.” He rolled onto his good side, and she pulled the blankets down, stopping a modest few inches from his waist. He felt her fingers on his shoulder, and once again there was the steady, even pressure. His head drooped slightly, as the tense neck and shoulder muscles began to relax. He sighed.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” He looked over his shoulder. “Can you teach me to do that?”

“I can,” she replied, “but for a variety of reasons, it is more efficacious when performed by someone else.”

“Not so much for me,” he said. “But Jon – the Captain, I mean – he gets pretty tense. I think this stuff would help him a lot.”

“I see,” she said. Then, she pressed on his spine, about halfway down his back for a few minutes. He could feel himself becoming drowsy. “I have finished,” she said. “You should be able to sleep now.”

“No kidding.” He rolled onto his back, pulled the blankets up over himself. “Could you teach me? Or,” he hesitated, then went on. “Or maybe you don’t feel comfortable with my reasons?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why would you assume that?”

“Well, Jon and I – being together, I mean. Guess it isn’t very logical. I mean, unless we run into the Xyrillians again, I don’t think either one of us is going to get pregnant. So there’s no logical reason to be together. If you know what I mean.”

“Your reasoning is based on a fallacy. Progeny is not the only reason to form a pair bond. There are many reasons why two individuals may wish to share their lives.”

“You telling me there are gay Vulcans?” She simply looked at him, and he hastily held up a hand. “Sorry. None of my business.”

“When you are well, I will teach you the technique.”

“Really? Even though it’s an illogical request?”

“It is not illogical. You wish to bring aid and comfort to your Th’y’la. Within the parameters of your relationship, your wish is logical.”

“My what-a?”

“Th’y’la,” she repeated. “It is a Vulcan term, used to describe relationships. As far as you and the Captain are concerned, the most accurate application of the word would roughly translate as: friend, brother, lover.”

“Friend, brother, lover,” Trip repeated. He looked up at her. “I kind of like that.”

“Vulcan will be pleased that you approve,” she replied dryly.

“Subcommander, I do believe you just made a joke.”

“Not at all, Commander. Simply an observation. Now, I do believe that you should be acquiescing to the doctor’s orders. Unless of course, you wish to have computer access denied for another day.”

“No, no, no,” Trip said hastily. “I’ll be good. I’m feeling pretty sleepy anyhow.”

“Then the logical course of action would be to sleep, would it not?”

“I won’t argue that.”

“That is wise. Sleep well, Commander. And – pleasant dreams.”

The hell - ? But looking up, all he saw was her calm, even regard. “Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

He came awake instantly; there was no slow awareness of consciousness creeping up on him as was usual; one minute he was deeply asleep; the next, coldly and clearly awake. I wonder if this is part of that Vulcan neuro-whatsis? He wasn’t sure he liked it; there was something comforting and known about the slow, gradual return to wakefulness that was his usual experience.

How long had he slept? Felt like forever. The lighting in their room was set on low as always since the accident (Jon worried about bright light giving Trip headaches) so that did not give him any idea. He looked at their bedside clock. 8:30. A few hours then. No, wait. It was 8:30 in the morning. As in the next day. He’d slept almost 18 hours.

As if on cue, Jon came into the bedroom, towelling his hair dry. He stopped when he saw Trip. “There you are, brat. How you feeling?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” Trip replied. “Guess I really slept, though, didn’t I?”

“You sure did.” Jon came over to his bedside, bent and kissed his forehead. “Phlox decided not to wake you for dinner. He figured a good long sleep would do you more good. And you really slept. Didn’t even move when I got into bed last night.” He straightened up. “Any dreams?” His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of concern.

Trip shook his head. “None that I can remember.”

“That’s good. Ready for breakfast?”

Trip thought about it. “I guess so,” he finally replied.

“You don’t sound all that enthusiastic. Stomach sick?”

“No,” Trip said slowly. “Just not hungry.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Jon said, and went down to the foot of the bed. He twitched the blankets aside, and gently lifted Trip’s uninjured foot. He frowned for a moment, concentrating, then placed his thumbs halfway up the arch, and began to press lightly. “Should be right there.” He saw Trip staring at him. “T’Pol told Phlox and me how she got you to sleep yesterday. I got her to show me how to apply the Neuro Pressure myself. Also downloaded that information on the Vulcan database.” He grinned. “Learned some interesting stuff T’Pol didn’t think to mention. Now I’ll really know how to press all your buttons.”

Trip smiled, but it was a feeble effort. Jon noticed, and frowned, although he did not stop the pressure he was applying. “Trip? What’s wrong? You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Trip sighed.

“What, then?”

“Well, I was kind of hoping to get T’Pol to show me how to use that so as to help you relax. Then I was planning to surprise you by using it on you. After a hard day.” He sighed again. “But it’s no surprise now.”

Archer looked at him, saw how woebegone he was. It was typical of Trip, he thought. Even when struggling to recuperate from an accident that by all rights should have killed him, he still thought more about others than he did himself.

Archer put the younger man’s foot down, carefully placed the blankets over him, and went to the head of the bed. He leaned over, and Trip looked up at him. “What,” he asked quietly, “did I ever do to deserve you?” And he kissed Trip before he could respond.

There was a faint rumbling sound. Archer broke off the kiss and laughed, while Trip looked startled. It had been ages since he had been hungry enough for his stomach to growl. “Guess that stuff really does work,” he said. He then cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Archer. “Did you say you learned some other stuff?”

Archer grinned. “Patience, brat. All will be revealed in due time.”

Trip pulled his blankets up around him. “Promises, promises,” he said with mock resignation. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Trust me,” Archer assured him. “You’re going to do more than just see.”

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