He was at peace.  It was deep, dark and warm where he was, and he wanted to stay there.  In the dark.  In the silence.  But he was being pulled relentlessly away from the darkness into light.  And instead of silence, there were now faint sounds.  He became aware that he was no longer floating, weightless in warmth, but that he had a body; one that was stiff and sore.  His head ached, too.

And with this realization, Trip awoke.  Memory returned; he was in their quarters; lying curled on their bed.  And last night ...  He pushed that away from himself.  He did not want to remember what he had told the Captain.  To remember what he said would be to remember the nightmare itself. 

He opened his eyes, winced as the light hit them.  He tried to lift his head off the pillow, and a bolt of pain lanced through it, leaving a dull throbbing ache in its wake.  Despite himself, he groaned.

He heard a faint rustle and managed to look across the room.  The Captain was on the couch.  He had been reading, but he had put his book down and was walking over to their bed.  Trip closed his eyes again.  It was easier that way.  The light hurt his eyes.  And he would not have to look the Captain in the eye.  He was not sure he could.  The memories of what had happened to him, raw and painful, tried to rush over him again, and he shivered slightly.

He felt the bed settle as Archer sat beside him.  "Trip?"

"Captain."

"What's wrong?"

"My head.  It's aching something fierce."

"I'm not surprised.  You had a pretty rough night."

Trip was silent.  This was true enough, but what could he say?  Archer gently rubbed his back for a moment.  Then, "Phlox left some analgesic.  He figured you'd need more.  I'll get it for you, okay?"

"Okay." 

Trip resolutely kept his eyes closed throughout their conversation.  After his emotional meltdown last night, he was frankly afraid to face the Captain.  What did Archer think of him?  And reliving the agony had left his emotions all in a jumble.  He found that he was simultaneously relieved and worried; cleansed and ashamed; confident and fearful.

He felt Archer's gentle hand on his back.  "Trip." 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, winced again as the light intensified the pain in his head.  "Damn!"

"Keep your eyes closed, Trip," the Captain said.  "The light just make the headache worse, doesn't it?" 

He nodded, closed them again.  He heard the hiss of the hypospray against his neck, and almost immediately, his pain started to ebb away.  The mattress settled again as the Captain sat down beside him.  "I'll keep you company for a little while."  And he could feel Archer's gentle touch as he stroked his back.

"You don't have to," he whispered.

"Oh, I don't agree," was the light response.  "After last night, I think you need the company.  Even if you don't want it."

"I didn't mean –"

"Trip," the Captain said.  "You're probably feeling pretty confused right now.  Embarrassed as well, maybe.  But you have no reason to. None of it was your fault.  They put you through hell.  I don't know how you survived.  And telling me about it?  Must have been more difficult than I can even begin to guess.  I wasn't lying when I said you're one brave son of a bitch.  And I don't have any less respect for you because of what happened on Tasumi.  Or here last night.  As a matter of fact, I probably have more."

Trip opened his eyes in surprise.  He looked up, saw Archer's calm regard upon him, and fidgeted slightly.  "Really?  Because I have to tell you, Captain – I don't feel very respectable.  In fact, just the opposite."

The memory of all those loathsome hands, the unwelcome touches, the vile penetrations came rushing back over him, and he could have cried aloud in frustration.  Those memories were always there, always lurking under the surface, always waiting to seize him again.  Would there ever be a day, an hour, a moment when he would be free of them?

Archer smiled very slightly, then sobered.  "Trip.  You were raped.  Brutally.  It wasn't your fault, and you have nothing to be ashamed of."

Trip sighed.  "Aren't you tired of saying that?"

Archer smoothed his hair back, then stroked his back again.  "Why should I?  It's the truth, isn't it?"

Trip sighed again.  "You're awfully stubborn, you know."

*  *  *

"Feeling better?"

Trip looked around.  "Did I fall asleep again?"

"Did you ever.  You slept all afternoon and the whole night through.  You must have been exhausted."

Trip exhaled.  "Guess so."

Slowly he sat up, ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at its greasy feel.  He hadn't had a shower in a couple of days.  "I'll bet I stink to high heaven, too."

"You are a bit fragrant," Archer observed.

"You didn't have to agree," Trip said, aggrieved.  He stood, and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he emerged, wearing clean pajamas and toweling his hair dry.  Archer looked up.  He was a sitting on a chair near the bathroom entrance.  Keeping watch, Trip thought.

"Well, you smell better," the Captain said.  "Feel better?"

"A little, I guess."

"You don't sound all that convinced."

Trip managed a faint smile.  "Guess I'm not." 

He swayed slightly, and Archer stood, placed a supportive hand underneath his elbow.  "Come on.  I'll bet your blood sugar is in the minus range.  Let's put you back to bed and get some breakfast into you."

He guided Trip back to their bed.  The engineer noted that the Captain had managed to change the sheets while he had been in the shower.  He sank down with a grateful sigh, and Archer pulled clean blankets up over him.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not really hungry."

Archer did not push it.  Instead, he asked, "Think you could at least get a protein shake into you?"

Trip thought about it.  "Guess so."

Archer went over to the fridge, while Porthos, with the air of someone who knows he is welcome, leaped onto the bed, wagged his tail briefly in greeting, and then turned his attention to the serious business of making a comfortable sleeping spot. 

Trip smiled slightly at this.  He looked up as Archer approached, glass in hand, handed it to him.

Trip took the milkshake, considered it, but did not drink.  Archer sat on the bedside, and affectionately rubbed Porthos' ears. 

"Trip?  Something wrong?"

Trip shook his head, looked up at Archer.  "Just thinking."

"About what?"

Trip did not answer directly.  Instead, he said, "You know, when they brought me into the room to meet you, and I heard your voice, I thought I was dreaming.  Again."

"Again?"

He nodded.  "After.  After my – my punishment, I found myself just ... drifting.  I just let my mind go.  It was like I was watching everything happen to someone else.  Seemed easier, somehow."

Archer nodded.  "It's a pretty common reaction, Trip."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  Phlox told me.  He called it a 'coping mechanism'."

"Oh.  Anyhow.  And I slept a lot, too.  Had some weird dreams."

"So you thought it was a dream?"

"Sure did.  I mean, it was your voice I heard, your face I saw.  But you weren't dressed right.  And you weren't acting like yourself.  So I thought I was either dreaming again, or I was drifting.  Changing reality."

"I guess being kissed didn't help, " Archer said, keeping his voice light. 

Trip knew that it wasn't just the kiss the Captain was referring to.  "Well," he said, quite seriously, "it wasn't bad.  But not your usual style, you have to admit."

Archer smiled.  Trip looked at him.  "Do you know when I started to realize it wasn't a dream.  When it was real?"

Archer shook his head.  "When?"

"When you started to feed me.  And it really hit home when you gave me that big slice of cake and made me drink their milk.  That was the Jonathon Archer I knew."

Archer grinned.  "Still is.  Drink your shake."

Trip sighed, rolled his eyes, but finished his shake.

"Now lay back down," the Captain ordered.  "Get some rest."

Trip obeyed.  "I wish I could feel better," he said wistfully.  "I'm really sick and tired of being sick and tired."

"I'm sure you are," Archer said sympathetically.  "But you know what Phlox said."

"I know.  Two steps forward, one step back.  And all the rest of it.  I just wish I was actually taking those steps forward."

"You are," Archer told him.  "It just seems like you're not."  He stood.  "I have to get to the bridge.  Phlox will probably drop by in a while.  But you try and sleep, okay, Trip?"

"Okay."  He closed his eyes.

Archer bent down, kissed his forehead.  "See you later."

Back to Chapter 16

Savior chapter listing

On to Chapter 18

To Pippin's page

To Main MEG Archive page