"It's just so damned ... frustrating, sometimes."

Phlox nodded sympathetically.

"I keep telling myself that things are going to get better, you know?"

"I do indeed."

"And for a while, they are.  And then – pow!  It all comes crashing down again."

"And that makes you feel?"

"Like I said.  Frustrated.  Even angry sometimes.  I know I shouldn't, but – "

" – there is no 'should' or 'shouldn't' when it comes to these kind of matters."

"Maybe.  But then, I feel guilty.  About being frustrated and angry.  And I become afraid.  I worry that these feelings are going to get in the way, and end up making everything worse."

"I see."

Archer looked up at that.  "Do you?  Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"No, I do see, Captain.  It's always disheartening when a patient takes a step backward – even when it's expected."

The Captain nodded.  "I know.  I keep telling myself that.  But intellectually knowing something and experiencing it are two different things."  He sighed.  "Still.  He was doing so well!  And now?  He's shut down again.  Not only that.  He's being difficult this time.  Cranky.  Irritable."  He tried to smile.  "Although God knows that after what he's been through, he's earned the right to be a little cranky."

"But you're still angry with him."

"Actually, I wanted to wring his neck this morning."  He looked up again.  "Nice, huh?"

"Perfectly understandable and natural.  You are, after all, the Commander's primary caregiver.  Not an easy position to find oneself in."

"I know he's not doing this deliberately."  But Archer's voice rose on a faintly interrogative note, and Phlox saw the question in the human's eyes.

He hastened to reassure the Captain.  "He isn't.  But as you get closer to whatever it is that happened to him which continues to fuel this trauma, the more he will resist."

"It's hard to believe there's something more traumatic than what he's already told me," Archer replied grimly.

"Perhaps.  But there is something."

"It's just so damn hard.  And now?  These physical symptoms.  The upset stomach ..."

"This worries you?"

"Of course it worries me!  Have you taken a good look at the man?  He's already lost way too much weight!"  He stopped.  "Sorry.  I shouldn't take it out on you.  Sorry," he repeated.

"That's where you are mistaken, Captain."  At Archer's incredulous look, the doctor clarified.  "Why do you think we have these sessions?"

Archer gaped at him.  "To keep you updated as to Trip's condition."

"Only partially," was Phlox's reply.  "These sessions are also for your benefit, Captain.  As I said, you are in an extremely stressful situation.  I would be remiss if I did not ensure your needs were being looked after as well as the Commander's."

Archer smiled, very faintly.  "I appreciate that.  Thanks, doc."  He sobered.  "You know what I really want?  It's pretty simple, actually."

"What?"

"I want my old friend back."

*  *  *

"Hey, Hoshi."

"Captain," she whispered.

"He asleep?"

She shook her head, gestured.  Archer raised a brow, but followed her into the corridor nonetheless.

"He's been curled up in bed all morning," she told him worriedly.  "Won't talk to anyone – not even Porthos.  I tried to get him to."  She looked down.  "The Commander has never been that rude before.  Ever."

"He's not himself," Archer reminded her.  "He's in a lot of distress right now.  Emotionally and physically."

"I know," she said.  "But still – "

"Hoshi," Archer said gently.  "Remember what Phlox said?  Right now, Trip's trying to protect himself.  He's been terribly hurt, and he's afraid to face that.  So he pushes everyone away.  Hopes if he's left alone, he won't have to deal with what's hurting him.  The trick is not to let it get to you.  Okay?"

"Okay," she said.  "I'll try."

"Good.  I'll stay with him now.  You go on."

She smiled.  "Thanks, Captain."

"No, thank you, Hoshi."  He smiled briefly, then reentered his quarters.

"Have a good gossip?"

Archer started minutely.  Trip still had his back to him (and the world) but it was obvious he was wide awake.

"Not really," he replied.  "Although I heard you were rude to Hoshi.  Were you?"

Trip did not answer.

"I asked you a question, Commander," Archer said, his voice sharp.

"I suppose.  If you consider 'fuck off' to be rude."

"And just when wouldn't it be rude?"

Trip turned, glared at him.  "When someone is poking her oh-so-cute nose into something that's none of her damned business, that's when!"

"You're going to apologize."

"The hell I am!"

Archer's voice was like a whip crack.  "You may be on sick leave, but that is no excuse.  I will not tolerate this kind of behavior from my senior staff.  Do you understand?"

Trip stared, his eyes wide.

"Am I completely clear, Commander?"

Trip was still silent.

"I know what you're doing," Archer added, "and it's not going to work."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," was the sullen response.

"Bull.  You talk to Phlox just like I do.  I know he tells you the same thing he tells me.  So don't play dumb, Trip.  It doesn't become you, and, frankly, I find it insulting."

Trip glared at him again.  Archer held his gaze until finally, the younger man dropped his eyes.  "Okay," he muttered, still sullen, "I'll apologize."

"Good.  See that you do."

Archer went into the bathroom, came out with a pill and water.  "Doctor's orders."

Still sulking, Trip nevertheless obeyed, taking the pill.  "All of the water," Archer ordered.  "You're close to becoming dehydrated."  Trip scowled in response, but drained the glass.

"Now go to sleep."

Trip's scowl became deeper.  "Is that an order, too, sir?"

"You bet your ass it is.  Now go to sleep."  Before things get really out of hand around here.

*  *  *

Archer awoke with a start, switched on the light.  Quickly, he got out of bed, and hurried over to Trip's.

The engineer was curled in on himself, trembling violently.  He was weeping; deep, wrenching sobs that filled the room with the sounds of his pain and despair.  Porthos, huddled at the end of the bed, whined worriedly.

"Trip!"  Archer reached out.  Trip tried to squirm away, but the Captain refused to let him.  He laid a hand on the quivering shoulder.  "Trip," he repeated.

"No," was the whimpering reply.

"What's wrong?"

Trip simply trembled again.

Archer sighed.  There only seemed to be one thing he could do.  It had worked downplanet; maybe it would work again here.  Sighing again, he crawled into bed beside his friend, lay down and put his arms around the younger man.  He thought Trip would tense up, fight him, try and move away, but instead, the engineer turned and rested a hot and damp forehead against the Captain's chest. 

He's like a small child, afraid of the dark, Archer thought with a sudden fierce compassion.  He momentarily released Trip to pull the blankets up over them, and Trip whimpered again.  "It's all right," Archer soothed, "I'm here."  He was filled with a sudden, helpless rage at those who had reduced Trip to this state.  But to say anything about it would only upset the younger man more.  He suppressed another sigh, and drew his friend back into a comforting embrace.

"Sorry," Trip gasped.  "So sorry."

"No apologies."  He began to rub Trip's back; gentle, reassuring touches, trying to ease the tense and frightened muscles he felt under his touch.

"Try and relax," he murmured.

"No," the engineer moaned.  "I – I can't sleep.  I don't want to sleep!  Please – don't make me sleep!"  He was nearly hysterical.

What the hell did they do to you?  "Okay.  You don't have to sleep.  It's okay."

He held Trip silently for a few minutes, and felt his trembling start to lessen.  "No one's going to hurt you," he reassured him again.

"God," Trip said, nearly crying again, "I'm such a mess.  When is this going to end?  Will it ever end?"

"Sssh," was his Captain's response.

"I'm sorry," Trip repeated.  "I don't know why I've been such a bastard lately, but I'm sorry.'

"You certainly have been," Archer replied blandly.  "But you're forgiven."  Trip managed a faint smile at this.

Archer dimmed the lights.  "Try and rest, Trip."

"I – I can't.  The dreams.  They're really bad, Captain.  Really bad."

"Okay.  Want to talk?"

Trip sighed tremulously.  "Not really."

"Going to lay here all night then, just staring at nothing?"

"Doesn't sound that great when you put it that way."

"Well, the way I see it, you've got three choices."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  Like I said, lie awake and stare at nothing."

"Not good."

"Or, try and sleep."

"Nightmares.  No thanks."

"Or talk."

"About what?"

"Whatever."

"You mean more about – what happened?"

"Only if you want to, Trip."

"And if I don't?"

"Then whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Really."

Trip sighed, and Archer pulled him closer.  Funny, he thought, you'd think he'd shrink away from this close contact.  But Trip allowed it.  Obviously, he derived some comfort from it.  As for Archer himself ... well, it was strange, but he found it comforting, too.

"Wake up!"

"It actually was not too bad," Trip said meditatively.  "With her.  She didn't tie me up or anything.  She was actually pretty nice.  Demanding, but not mean in any way."

Trip lay back, exhausted.  He had been "serving" Her Ladyship all day.  For such a small woman, she had what seemed to be an insatiable appetite.

"I don't remember much," Trip said.  "Crawled into bed and fell asleep."

Archer was silent.  Perhaps Trip did not realize this, but categorizing being someone's sex toy as being "not too bad" only served to underscore how dreadful the entire experience must have been for him.

"Captain?" asked Trip.

He gave his friend a reassuring hug.  "It's okay, Trip."

Trip sighed faintly.  "You're putting up with one hell of a lot."

"You've been through one hell of a lot."

Trip sighed again, then yawned.

"Tired?  Think you might try sleeping?"

"Yeah," Trip said drowsily.

"Do you want me to go back to my own bed?  Or I'll stay.  It's up to you."

"If you don't mind staying," Trip said, shyly.

"No," said Archer, "I don't mind."

And the strangest thing was, it was the truth.

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