It really was an ungainly thing, Archer thought, staring out his ready room window.  The almost-completed station hung there, looking like something put together by a giant child with bad hand-eye co-ordination.  Still, its looks weren't really important, were they?  The doctors and scientists who would be living and working aboard it wouldn't be going out for any scenic drives.  And as for the poor devils living down on the planet, it was going to be highly unlikely they'd be getting a look at it, either.

By natural association, he gaze traveled across the spiky lattice work of the medical research station and onto the planet below.

Tasumi.

Again.

"I'm sorry, Jon," Forrest said again for what must have been the tenth time.  "I know this is going to be difficult."

That conversation had been three weeks ago.  So far, Trip's behavior had been faultless:  cool, composed and professional.  He gave no sign that he was working above the planet where he had been put through a personal hell of the most appalling variety.  Archer suspected, however, that he was throwing himself into the work as a way to avoid facing the memories of his experiences on Tasumi.  Off-duty, he was quiet and composed, but remote.  Archer, knowing the depth of his trauma, was patient with him.  He did not push Trip, but simply let his lover know that he was there for him.  Nor did he make any intimate demands on the engineer.  Trip was too tired, for the most part, and also, Archer knew that this was simply not the time to indulge in lovemaking.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair.  He'd better check on Trip; he hadn't been in the Mess at lunch and Archer doubted he'd had anything to eat since breakfast.  Phlox would wring the young man's neck if he didn't eat, and would also have a few choice words for the Captain as well.  "Archer to Tucker."

No response.

He tried again.  Still no response.  "Archer to Engineering."

Trip's second-in-command answered.  "Hess here."

"Is Commander Tucker in Engineering, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir.  He's not over with the construction crew, either."

As that was going to be Archer's next question, all he said was, "Very well, Lieutenant.  Thank you."

He was becoming a little worried now.  He'd check their quarters; Trip was pretty good about leaving him messages as to his whereabouts.  He rose, exited his ready room and bridge, nodding absently to Hoshi as he did so.

He opened the door to their quarters, stepped through, closed the door behind him, looked around.  And groaned.

Trip was slumped at his desk, head on its surface.

He was sound asleep.

Damn!  He crossed over to the younger man, took him gently by the shoulder.  "Hey."

Trip woke with a start.  He looked blearily at Archer.  "Wha - ?"

Archer helped him to his feet.  "Come on."  He led the engineer over to their bed.  "Let's get you undressed."

Trip protested groggily.  "I can't.  I've got too much to do."

Archer pushed him onto the bed, removed his boots.  "Whatever it is, it can wait."

"But – "

"Not tonight."  Archer's voice was mild, but firm.  He unzipped Trip's uniform, pulled it off of him.  His T-shirt and underwear followed in quick succession.  "Get in bed."

Trip looked apprehensive.  "Am I going to catch hell?"

"Bed."

Trip obeyed.  He looked up at Archer.  "I don't set the deadlines, you know.  But I'm the one who has to live with them."

Archer raised a brow at this, then went over to Trip's computer, stood and read the screen.  He came back, thunderclouds on his brow.  His expression softened when he saw Trip looking up at him.  He bent, kissed the younger man on the forehead.  "Go to sleep.  You're not going to catch hell."  He stood up.  "But someone is."

*  *  *

Captain Soltisk folded his hands, looked out from the viewscreen at Archer.  "I should have expected this."

"Oh?" Archer asked.

"Indeed.  Humans are not as disciplined as Vulcans.  Apparently, your Chief Engineer is no exception."

"Bull."

"Captain, I assure you, I am not casting aspersions on your crewman.  Merely making an observation."

"Well, let me make one of my own.  I've just checked his work logs.  Commander Tucker has been working 16 to 20 hour days for the last 2 ½ weeks, trying to keep up with the deadlines set.  Deadlines you set."

"Those deadlines – "

"- are not reasonable."

"Vulcans would have no problem meeting them."

"True.  Except Commander Tucker is not a Vulcan.  Nor are any of Enterprise's engineering crew.  I'm surprised you didn't notice that small fact."

"Human weaknesses – "

"Ah," Archer interrupted.  "So it's your position that Commander Tucker is not fit enough to work with you?  I tend to agree.  Therefore, he is off the project.  Now.  I'm sure you'll find someone to replace him from your own crew.  Thank you, Captain Soltisk."  And he reached over, preparing to end the communication.

"Wait – " said Soltisk.  He was now looking like his uniform was slightly too tight.

"Yes?" Archer asked pleasantly.

"Commander Tucker was working on some design modifications for the power relays."

"Oh, yes?" Archer asked, still pleasant.

"Without those modifications, we will have difficulty finishing the station on time.  And time is of the essence.  I'm sure you will agree with that."

Archer did not reply.

"Captain," Soltisk said.  "Scientists and medical officers are aboard this vessel waiting, even as we speak, to board this station and begin working on finding a cure for the Tasumi virus."

"I am aware of this.  And I have no desire to hinder that."  Soltisk looked relieved.  But his relief was short-lived.  "However," and Archer raised his hand, pointed it at the Vulcan, "I have to also think about the health and well-being of my crew."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Archer said politely, "that if you want to impose the kind of deadlines that only a Vulcan crew could handle, then by all means do so.  And handle them yourself."

"Captain?"

"From now on, Enterprise's crew will work only regular shifts."

"Very well.  And Commander Tucker?"

Not such a weakling after all, is he?  Especially where it counts – in brainpower.  Aloud, he said, still polite, "I will permit him to continue on this project.  Working on the designs only.  No hands-on work.  And I'll be monitoring his hours.  Closely.  I hope that's understood."

Soltisk now looked as if his uniform was now about five sizes too tight.

"Well?" Archer asked cordially.

"Very well," the Vulcan finally said.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Captain."

*  *  *

Trip blinked, then sat up, grimacing as he did so.  His back was killing him.  Too many hours, hunched over a computer screen, combined with the actual labor involved in working on the construction of the station had done a real number on his back.  He sighed.  Maybe a hot shower would help.

Slowly, he climbed out of bed, made his way to the shower.  He emerged a little while later, clad in a towel.  His back still hurt, but at least it was bearable now.  He crossed over to the bed.  Better change the sheets.

He'd just finished the sheets and was starting on the pillowcases, when:  "Can't you read?"

He started, then turned to find an angry Archer standing at the foot of the bed, hands on hips.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What are you on about?"

"Don't play dumb with me.  I'm not in the mood."

"I'm not playing dumb.  What are you talking about?"

"My orders."

"What orders?"

"I left them right there," Archer said, pointing to his pillow.  Seeing Trip's honest confusion, he frowned, and walked around the bed.  Spotting something half-hidden under the bed, he stooped and picked it up.  "Porthos," he said resignedly.  He held up a padd, and Trip could see the faint scratches on its surface; scratches made by a certain canine's teeth.  "Sorry, Trip," Archer said apologetically.  "Guess Porthos decided this belonged to him." 

He handed the padd to Trip, who read its brief message:  Stay in bed.  "I can't," he protested.  "I have too much to do."

"That's changed," Archer told him.  "I had a little chat with Captain Soltisk."

"Uh-oh."

"Don't worry.  You'll still be working on the design aspects of the station."

Trip looked at him.  "I'm waiting for the 'but'."

"But," Archer supplied, "design only.  The Vulcans will be handling the rest of the construction.  They want to set the deadlines – fine.  Then they can do the work necessary to meet them."  He pulled the covers back.  "Now.  In bed, if you please."

Suppressing a sigh, Trip climbed into bed, wincing as his back protested.

"What's wrong?"

Trip sighed.  There was no sense denying anything was wrong; Jon had an eagle eye when it came to this sort of thing.  "My back," he admitted.

Jon frowned at this, then went to the wall comm.  Trip groaned.  "Please - Jon.  Don't make a fuss."

His lover silenced him with a look.  Trip sighed again.  When Jon was like this, it was simply best to go with the flow.  Jon in protective Papa Bear mode, he was not inclined to brook much in the way of protest.

Jon finished his call to Phlox, came over and looked at Trip.  "I don't suppose you've eaten, have you?"

"How could I?  I just got up," Trip said irritably.

The stern look on Jon's face was replaced by a rueful smile.  "Sorry. Again."  He went to the fridge, returned with a protein shake, sat on the bedside and handed it to Trip.  "Drink up."

Trip obeyed.  "You going to keep me in bed all day?"

Jon took the empty glass from him, leaned forward and gave him a light kiss.  "Depends on what Phlox says."

Trip exhaled.  Before he could say anything, the door sounded.  Jon went to the door, opened it, and Phlox stepped in.

"Ah, Commander," he said with his usual good cheer.  "You've been misbehaving again, haven't you?"

* * *

"Where were you last night?"

Trip looked over at Reed.  "What?"

"Well, you were talking about that movie all last week.  I thought for certain you'd want to see it.  I'm surprised you weren't there, that's all."

"Something came up," Trip said absently.  "I couldn't make it."

"Pity."

Trip shrugged.  "I can watch it anytime."

"But you always say, there's something about seeing it on the big screen."

"Forget it, will you?"  Trip sounded slightly irritable.  "It's no big deal."

Reed shrugged, and followed Trip as he left the bridge.

Sitting in the centre chair, Archer pinched the bridge of his nose.  Damn!  He'd done it again, hadn't he?  Trip had been talking about that movie for days before Movie Night.  And he'd forgotten.  So when Phlox had administered the mix of muscle relaxants and painkillers, he hadn't said anything about it.  Trip had slept the clock round.  And missed his movie as a result.  He should have remembered, and let Phlox know, so the doctor could have adjusted the strength of the mix accordingly.  A night at the movies would have done Trip a world of good.  Instead, he'd managed to screw things up for his lover.  Again. 

It was a wonder that Trip didn't tell him to go to hell.  But Trip was not only tolerant, but loyal as well.  He'd made it sound, when talking to Reed, that it had been Trip's own decision not to go, and also that it was not a big deal to begin with, when the exact opposite was true.

Well, he'd messed up.  So now, he'd have to figure out a way to make it up to Trip.

* * *

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."  But Trip's response was absent; he was standing, staring out the window, looking at the now-completed station, and the planet beyond.

Archer came up behind him.  "It's butt-ugly, you know."

"That's my design," Trip replied.

"I know.  Like I said, it's butt-ugly."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."  He slipped his arms around Trip's waist.  "And you did one hell of a job."

"Thanks."  But Trip's tone told Archer that the younger man had other things on his mind.

"Thinking long thoughts?" Archer asked gently.

Trip nodded.  "I was just looking at it."

"It?"

"Tasumi."

"Oh."  He pulled Trip close to him.  "What about it?"

"Looks nice from up here."  Trip sighed.  "You'd never know."

"No," Archer agreed quietly.  "No, you wouldn't."

Trip leaned into his embrace.  "I was just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Why me?  I mean, I can't help but ask why?  What did I ever do to deserve it?"

"Nothing," Archer said decidedly.  "You really don't believe you did something wrong and everything that happened on Tasumi is some sort of punishment, do you?"

"No, I guess not.  But I still wonder.  Why did it happen?  Why did I have to go through it?"

"I don't know," Archer told him.  "I wish I could tell you that there's some grand plan behind it all, and that something good will come of it.  But I can't.  I don't know why.  All I can say is that if there is anyone is this whole damn universe who didn't deserve to go through it, it's you."  He kissed Trip on the cheek.

"Thanks."  He looked at Archer.  "I'll be damned glad when we leave here, that's for sure."

"Then you can start being glad."

"Really?"

Archer nodded.  "The last of the supplies and personnel are aboard, and our support crew are coming back.  I gave orders to break orbit as soon as they were aboard.  That should be just about – "  The station and planet below began to slide across their field of view.  "Now," Archer finished.

They watched the planet shrink and finally dwindle into just another speck in the sky.  Those specks turned to streaks as the ship jumped to warp.

Trip turned to Archer.  "Thank God," he said.  "If I never see that place again, it'll be too soon."

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