Archer yawned, blinked, and then as was his usual habit, was clearly and totally awake.  “Sleep well?”  There was no answer.  He looked over.

Trip was gone.

His heart seemed to leap into his mouth.  He sat up.  “Trip?”  No answer.  He called again, louder this time.  “Trip?”  Still no response.

Heart beating wildly, he jumped out of bed.  “Trip?”  Silence.  Don’t be stupid, he told himself.  He’s fine.  There’s no way … He’s probably just having a shower.  He hurried over to the bathroom.  “Hey,” he said, opening the door, “why didn’t you – “  He stopped.  The bathroom was empty.  No one in the shower.  Or in the sunken tub.

Where the hell are you?  He was now seriously alarmed and there was no sense denying it.  Alarmed, hell – he was scared to death.  There were all sorts of security measures in place on the house, but still … still … Trip rarely, if ever awoke before he did, and when that did happen, he would usually wake Archer for what he would euphemistically call “quality time”.

He went onto the balcony, scanned the landscape.  His shoulders sagged.

Trip was wandering along the beach.  As Archer watched, he stopped by one of the small tide pools and squatted down beside it, his face alight with curiosity and interest.

Archer took a deep breath, shook his head and smiled ruefully.  Apparently Trip, for all his bad memories, was far less nervous than his Captain was.  He sighed.  Difficult, it was so difficult.  He had no wish to smother his young lover; Trip needed his freedom and independence - otherwise he simply would not be Trip.  But Archer was afraid; afraid of losing him.  It didn’t help matters that he had already endured such a loss.  And now, if it happened again when he and Trip were lovers, he didn’t think he would be able to bear it.  Trip would never know how hard it was for Archer to let him go off on his own.  But he knew that he must; he also knew the anxiety he suffered as a result was part of the price he had to pay for loving Trip.  And that, he thought, that was worth every second of worry.

Sighing again, he went to the bathroom, showered and shaved.  He dressed, then went to the window and looked out again.  He smiled.  Trip was now sitting by the tide pool, still intently watching the comings and goings of its small inhabitants.

He went down to the huge kitchen.  Chef would kill to have such a workplace, he thought with amusement, then set to work.  Chef had given him a number of recipes, all for dishes that Trip liked.  The engineer had lost weight – yet again – while working on the Tasumi station, and it was Archer’s intention to get him back up to fighting trim during their leave.  The Captain enjoyed cooking, but was seldom able to do so.  Chef was the best in the Fleet, but he was temperamental, and did not take kindly to anyone – even Enterprise’s captain – usurping what he considered to be his domain.  Well, Archer reflected, he was going to have lots of opportunity here; he had no intention of allowing Trip to do much in the way of work. 

It had been a while, so he figured he’d start easy and work his way up from there.  Scrambled eggs and bacon, toast, juice and coffee ought to do the trick.

Half an hour later, he looked at the small table set for two with satisfaction.  Everything looked, and smelled, pretty damned good.  He set the coffee carafe on the table, then went to the back doors and exited onto the patio. 

He walked over to its edge and looked down at the beach where Trip was still sitting by the tide pool.  Archer put his fingers in his mouth, and whistled sharply.  When Trip looked up, he bellowed, “Come and get it!”

Trip got to his feet, jogged up the hill.  “Hey,” he said, coming up to Archer, “morning.”

“Morning yourself, brat,” Archer greeted him.  “You’re up early.  For a change,” he added.

Trip grinned.  “What can I say?  Fresh air – you know the effect it has on me.”

“Hmm,” Archer said.  “And here I thought I’d tired you out but good last night.  Obviously, I was mistaken.”

“Guess you’ll have to try harder,” Trip replied, an impudent smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

For an answer, Archer took him in his arms and kissed him quite thoroughly.  When they drew apart, both were breathing more rapidly than usual.  “I guess that’s a start,” Archer drawled.

Trip rolled his eyes.  “Can I have breakfast?” he asked.  “First?”

*  *  *

“Finish off the toast, Trip.”

“Oh, man, Jon – I’m stuffed.”

“There’s only one piece left, Trip.  Don’t waste.”

Trip rolled his eyes, but took the toast.  Archer pushed the condiments towards him.  “Jam and honey.”

“You want me to put both on?”

“Smart ass,” was the bland reply.  “You do what you want.”

Trip ladled on the jam, took a mouthful.  “Good,” he mumbled.

Archer refilled his juice glass.  “More coffee?”

Trip nodded.  He finished his toast and juice and then sipped the coffee.  “Not bad.”  He looked over the rim of his cup at Archer.  “I never knew you could cook.”

“You’re forgetting Alice Springs.”

“I don’t consider burnt snake meat cooking.”

“Yeah?  What do you consider it then?”

“A crime against humanity.”

“Brat.”

“Bastard.”

Their respective positions thus confirmed, Trip went back to his original point.  “Seriously.  That was a good feed.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, if you ever decide to leave Starfleet, you could probably have a career as a cook.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good.  It was meant to be one.”

“But don’t say anything like that to Chef, okay?”

“Are you kidding?  I’d like to keep my skin intact, thank you very much.”

Archer grinned, took a sip of coffee, while Trip stretched.  “What do you want to do today?” he asked.  Catching the look on Archer’s face, he added, “Besides that, I mean.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“Really.  Whatever you want, Trip.  It’s up to you.”

“Well – “ Trip began hesitantly.

“What is it?  What would you like to do?”

“Those woods up there.”

“You want to go hiking?”

Trip nodded.  “But you said – “

Archer laughed.  “I can wait, you know.”  He stood.  “Actually, a hike sounds like a good idea.  Fresh air, exercise – all good.  How about we pack some food and have lunch out in the woods.  How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay.  I’ll start putting the food together.  You go find the equipment we’ll need.”

“Think they’ll have knapsacks?”

“I’m betting you’ll find there’s everything we need, right down to and including hiking boots in both our sizes.”

*   *  *

Trip leaned back against the broad trunk of the tree, looked up into the clear blue sky.  “Sunshine,” he said between mouthfuls of his sandwich.  “Always nice.”

“Hmmm,” Archer said in agreement, just as a scolding chatter erupted in the branches above them.  “Someone thinks we’re trespassing.”

“Yeah.”  Trip dug into his knapsack, brought out a scanner/padd combination, turned it on.  The scanner fed in readings to the padd, which in turn had a database of all the local flora and fauna found in the area.  The database would analyze the readings, and then set out information on what they were seeing – or hearing.  “According to this, it’s their equivalent of a squirrel.”

“And there he is,” Trip said, pointing.

A large, indignant rodent sat on the branch above them, flicking a luxuriant bushy tail in annoyance.  It did look like a Terran squirrel – if squirrels were green with brown stripes.  “Good camouflage,” Trip observed.  He broke off a crust from his sandwich, tossed it away.  The squirrel chattered indecisively for a moment, then leaped from the branch to an adjoining tree trunk, skittered down, snatched the crust and with another flick of its tail, was gone.

Archer looked at Trip.  “You do realize,” he said with mock severity, “that Subcommander T’Pol would tell you that such actions disrupt the local ecology, don’t you?”

Trip grinned.  “I do.  That’s why I’m glad she’s not here.”  He took a swig of water.  “Is she even taking leave?”

“They dragged her off, kicking and screaming, before we left.”

Trip laughed again, and the sound of his laughter gave Archer great pleasure.  It was good to hear Trip laugh; God knew he had had more than his fair share of pain over the last several months.

A bird sang overhead, and Trip took the viewer slung around his neck and scanned the trees above.  “Red, with a black breast,” he informed Archer, who obligingly keyed the information into the padd. 

Several species came up as a result.  “Need more information,” he told Trip.

“Ah – black legs, and a black beak.  With yellow spots on the beak.  Looks like a seed eater.”

“You’re right.”  Archer passed the padd over.

“That’s the one.”  And he went back to studying the bird through the viewer.

Archer, in turn, was studying him.  Trip became aware of his regard, put the viewer down and arched an inquiring brow.  “Sorry,” Archer said.  “I just never figured you for a bird watcher, that’s all.”

“I wasn’t,” Trip admitted.  “But on that last planet, when you gave me the viewer and told me to survey the local bird population,” he shrugged, “I found it interesting.”

“So it wasn’t a waste of time.”

Trip shook his head.  “Although our science officer did tell me my observations were, and I quote, ‘overly anthropomorphic’.”

“Color me surprised.”

“No kidding.  Ah, well – Vulcans.  What are you going to do?”  He put the viewer down.  “We going to sit here all afternoon?”

“Guess not.  Want to keep following the stream?”

“Yeah.  Let’s see where it leads.”

*  *  *

Trip stood on the edge of the small, still lake.  “You sure?” he asked again, his disappointment evident in his voice.

“See for yourself.”  Archer handed the scanner/padd over.

Trip read it, sighed.  “Guess swimming is out.”

“Unless you want to take a chance in getting bit.”

“No,” Trip shuddered.  “Not where these things bite.”

“Well,” Archer pointed out, “if you want to swim, there’s the pool back at the house.  It’s safer.”

“But not as much fun.”

“Oh?”

Trip grinned impishly.  “There’s nothing like skinny dipping on a hot afternoon.”

“There’s no law that says you can’t skinny dip in the pool.  Or the ocean.”

“Guess that’s true.  But not today.”

“No.  But we’ve got lots of time yet.”  He looked up at the sky.  “Although we should start heading back.  We’re not equipped to camp out overnight.”

“Okay,” Trip said equably.  He slung his knapsack over his shoulder.  “Nice little lake, though.  Biters aside, that is.”

“We’ll come back,” Archer promised.  “Maybe with a tent next time.”

“Sounds good.”

*  *  *

“Can I help?”

Archer shook his head.  “Too many cooks.  I’m fine.  But you can set the table.”

“Okay.”  Trip rose.  “Dishes?”

Archer pointed.  “That cupboard.  Everything’s there.”

Trip complied, and a few minutes later, the kitchen table was set and ready.

“You don’t mind eating in the kitchen?” Archer asked.  “There is a dining room.”

“With a table a mile long.  No, I prefer this.  Besides, I come from a long line of kitchen eaters.”

“Okay.”  Archer flipped the burger patty.  “Almost done.  You want to get the condiments out of the fridge?”

“Mustard, relish?”

“Yep.  And there’s some stuff Chef called ‘tomato chutney’.  Ketchup with a kick.  And don’t forget salad dressing.”

“Salad dressing?”

“Yeah.  There’s a salad in the fridge, too.  I made it when I was getting out lunches ready.”

Trip shook his head.  “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Likewise.”

*  *  *

“Want some more fruit and ice cream?”

“Jon – I’m stuffed.  Two burgers, two helpings of salad and two baked potatoes.  I’m going to put on a ton if this keeps up.”

You need to, Archer thought, but instead said, “Well, we’ll just have to make sure you get enough exercise, then.”

“Oh, yeah?  How you going to do that?”

“I could chase you around the house a couple of times,” Archer offered.

“Tag?  And what happens when you catch me?”

Archer grinned.  “I guess I’ll think of something.”

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