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: By saving Trip, Archer may lose his friend.
Savior
By Pippin
When Archer blinked, and awoke the next morning, he realized that for the first time in what had seemed like forever, Trip had slept the night through without any bad dreams. Or, at least, he amended, bad enough to make him cry aloud. And since Trip had slept through the night, so had he.
He found that he was lying on his side, with Trip spooned comfortably up against him. Sometime in the night, Archer had slipped an arm over his friend, and that arm was still there, resting with an easy familiarity around Trip's waist.
The younger man was still deeply asleep; his breathing was soft, even and regular. At the bottom of the bed, Porthos looked up, wagged his tail. A little crowded, Archer thought. Trip's bed was an adjustable hospital bed, and so narrower than the usual bunk.
Maybe tonight I'll get him to sleep in my bed. He then realized he was assuming they'd be sleeping together again. Well, if it meant no more nightmares for Trip, why not?
Carefully, he removed his arm. Trip murmured – was it in protest? Apparently it was, because he turned in his sleep, seeking Archer's warmth, and snuggled up against the Captain again.
Archer sighed. This was insane. And so comfortable that he hated to leave. But the Captain of the Enterprise couldn't spend the entire morning in bed with his chief engineer.
And damned if that was an extremely tempting idea. He considered it. Why the hell not? T'Pol could run things for a few hours, couldn't she?
He sat up. Trip muttered in his sleep. "Don't wake up," Archer told him. "I'll be right back."
He went into the bathroom, and then when finished, called the bridge. Naturally, T'Pol answered.
"What's our status?"
"Proceeding on course to the Zellinga System, Captain."
"How long until we get there?"
"At present speed, 2.5 days. Do you wish to increase speed?"
"Do we have any reason to?"
"Not that I can ascertain."
"Good. Then let's have a couple of quiet days, shall we?"
"Acceptable. Oh, and Captain," she added, "Lieutenant Reed wishes to recalibrate the aft sensors."
"Tell him to go ahead."
"Very well."
"If that's all, then I'm going to be in my quarters for a while."
"Is Commander Tucker -?"
"He's fine," Archer assured her. "Just don't want to leave him alone right now."
"Understood."
I highly doubt that. "You have the bridge, Subcommander."
"Acknowledged."
Subcommander T'Pol raised her brow as the communication was terminated. This was interesting, but not unexpected. Around her, the rest of the bridge crew busied themselves with their various tasks. If they had heard the Captain, they were keeping their reactions to themselves.
She became aware of a somewhat pressing need; she obviously had drunk too much tea at breakfast.
"Lieutenant," she said to Reed, "I will be in the ready room for a few minutes. You have the bridge."
Reed nodded, watched as she left. He then made his way to the centre seat, wondering, as usual, if he would ever prove worthy enough to earn one of his own, and sat.
At the helm, Ensign Mayweather turned, flashed a bright grin at him. Reed raised a brow.
"What did I tell you?" Mayweather said.
"You mean – "
"The Captain. Commander Tucker."
"I seem to remember a conversation along those lines," Reed said frostily.
"You're just mad because you lost. Pay up."
* * *
Trip blinked. How long had he slept? Felt like forever. And for the first time in forever, it felt that he had gotten some rest, too.
He was lying on his side, and the Captain was lying beside him, one arm wrapped protectively around him, while he held a padd in the other. Porthos was sprawled at the end of the bed.
Well, isn't this cozy. And it was true. He sighed, shifted slightly. Archer put the padd down.
"You're finally awake," the Captain said. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."
"What time is it?"
"Eleven hundred."
"That late? I really slept, then."
"You really did."
There was a comfortable silence for a moment, then Archer asked, "Ready for breakfast?"
"More like lunch."
"Split the difference."
"Brunch? Always thought that was kind of lah-dee-dah for a starship."
"I'm sure Chef will rise to the challenge. Think you could go for some Eggs Benedict?"
Trip thought about it. "You know," he said, surprised, "I think I could."
* * *
Trip whimpered in his sleep. "Sshh," Archer soothed him. It was early evening, and Trip was sleeping, while Archer was stretched out beside him, catching up on ship's reports.
When the Captain had diffidently suggested after supper that it might be more comfortable if they slept in his bed instead of Trip's, Trip had simply gotten up and walked (albeit somewhat unsteadily) to Archer's bed and climbed in. Well, Archer had thought, that solves that.
Trip tossed his head, awoke.
"Bad dreams again?"
"Yeah." The engineer sighed. "I'd hoped ..." He trailed off. Archer put an arm around him, and Trip gratefully snuggled into the comforting embrace.
"It'll take some time," Archer assured him.
Trip nodded. "I know that. But, I still keep hoping they'll just go away."
"Want to talk about it?"
Trip smiled very faintly. "Not really. But I guess I should."
Trip lay on the chaise lounge in the Mistress' garden, ostensibly enjoying the sun and fresh air. He was given to understand that this was a privilege, a treat given to a favored pet by a kind mistress. Of course, no one had bothered to ask him if this was something he wanted.
The truth was, even though the sun and fresh air was nice, he wasn't really enjoying this. He was all too aware of the attention he was receiving while out here. His nakedness proclaimed to the household at large that he was a pleasure slave, and there were those who were more than willing to risk the wrath of the Lord and Lady by attempting to sample him for themselves.
So far, no one had done more than cop a quick feel, but he knew that sooner or later, some one was going to try more. Especially now that her Ladyship was planning to leave.
Leave. That sparked a thought. He wondered. She would be going in two days, and be gone for several at the least. She wouldn't be taking him; apparently the holdings she would be inspecting were very small and there was only room for her maid and secretary.
It was just as well; he was exhausted and could use a rest. Fortunately, the Lord had come home today, so Trip was going to get a reprieve of at least a week, maybe more.
So with his services not required, and everyone else forbidden to touch him (in theory), that meant that he would be left alone for the most part. Maybe he could take advantage of that. He'd have to do some thinking, but it looked like he would have time to do that, too.
"Hey! Blue!" My name's Trip, he thought angrily. He looked over. It was one of the household guards. One of the worst offenders in terms of the secret sneak touches.
"Time's up," the man said. "Back to your room."
Trip rose, and walked over to where the man was standing, waiting. The guard's gaze traveled over him, and he licked his lips, but Trip ignored this.
Instead, he walked past him. He could feel the skin between his shoulder blades prickling with apprehension, but he refused to give into it. If he were to show any fear, this man would take advantage of that, and he'd never have a moment's peace again.
He felt the guard's hand on his back – low on his back. He stopped, turned, fixed him with a steady stare. The man in turn stepped away, raised both hands in an exaggerated gesture of apology. But the smirk he wore said otherwise. Trip continued to stare at him, until the guard dropped his eyes. "Get moving," he then said angrily.
Trip turned and walked down the hall, came to his room. The guard tried to open his door, but Trip stopped him. "Don't be so proud," the man said. "You could use a friend."
Right, Trip thought. And next you'll tell me you have a real nice bridge you want to sell me. He remained silent and entered his room, closing the door on his would-be "friend's" face, and locked it behind him. Not that the lock was of much use; there were those who had the master key. However, his buddy out there was not one of them, and he doubted Al-Saahn would hand over the key to the room of the Mistress' new pet to just anyone.
He went to his bed, got in under the covers. This room seemed to be always cold, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was deliberately kept that way, in order to keep him in bed and quiet. Well, he could think in bed just as well as anywhere else.
"So you started thinking about trying to escape."
Tripped nodded. Archer stroked his back, and he sighed, closed his eyes.
"Feels good?"
"Nice."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Well, I guess you can figure out that my attempt didn't work."
"Yeah, I guessed that. But at least you tried."
"I did."
Trip walked down the hall, with his would-be new friend following him. He'd had his allotted hour in the garden, and now he was being taken back to his room. The Lady was gone. And to his surprise, in her absence, Al-Saahn had installed a computer in his, Trip's, room. Apparently, he had "earned" it. If everything went well, he'd never get a chance to use it.
He reached his room, opened the door. He turned, gave the guard a look that was very different from his usual disdainful stare. He walked into his room without closing the door behind him.
As he had thought, that was all the encouragement the man needed. He followed Trip into his room, closed the door, and locked it.
He then reached for Trip, who allowed himself to be pulled into a hot, fervid embrace. The man ground his face into Trip's neck, and his hands were running up and down his back. He then grabbed the engineer's ass, pulled him closer.
"I knew you weren't as haughty as you put on," the man said, grinning into Trip's face.
Trip smiled back. And then brought his knee up into the man's groin with brutal efficiency.
The expression on the guard's face would have been comical under other circumstances.
"Aahhh ..." he said, his face turning white, and sank slowly to his knees.
"Right," said Trip, and cold-cocked him. "Friend," he added.
Quickly, he undressed the unconscious man, put on his uniform. It was a little loose, but still fitted fairly well. He pulled on the cap, and moving quickly, exited, closing the door behind him.
He strode purposefully down the hall. Look like you know where you're going, he thought.
He came to the garden door. He would go out in the garden, hide himself in the thickly wooded center section, and wait for nightfall. He'd then make a break for the perimeter.
He went out the door.
And was felled by a hammer blow of pain.
"Your restraints."
"Yeah. I couldn't get them off. What I didn't know is that they were programmed to go off anytime I left the house. Only exception was when I was allowed out into the garden. I found out later that even then, I couldn't have gotten very far. They'd been set to go off if I went more than 100 feet from the house."
He looked at Archer. "Guess when you showed up, they turned them off altogether."
Archer smiled grimly. "They'd have been afraid not to."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Can I read some of those reports Malcolm and Hoshi made up about you? I have to admit, I'm kind of curious."
"Sure. You'll find out that, to quote Lieutenant Reed, I'm an 'arrogant bastard'."
Despite everything, Trip grinned. "No kidding."
Archer grinned back. "You bet. So behave yourself, Commander."
"I'll try." He yawned, then laid his head on Archer's chest. The Captain continued to stroke his back.
"Getting tired, Trip?"
"I am. Reliving it – it's kind of hard."
"I'm sure that there's no 'kind of' about it."
"Hmmm."
They lay in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Trip yawned again; a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. "Sorry," he said. "I'm not bored. Just tired."
"Go to sleep, Trip. Try and get some rest."
"Okay," the younger man murmured. By now, he was already half-asleep.
"And no bad dreams."
"Is that an order?"
"No. Just a wish."
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