"How in hell did this happen?"

Archer looked angrily at Phlox from across Trip's unconscious form.  The Denobulan, who looked as downcast as Archer had ever seen him, sighed.  "I'm afraid I underestimated Commander Tucker, Captain.  He is far cleverer than I had thought."

Standing beside the doctor, Subcommander T'Pol raised one elegant brow.  "It was my understanding that you were continuously monitoring him."

Phlox nodded.  He left the engineer's bedside and walked across Sickbay to one of the counters, and returned, holding a sensor bracelet, which he handed to T'Pol.  "I was.  With this."

"The would you care to explain how he managed to drink himself unconscious?  Damn it, Doc – he drank half a bottle of scotch!  How did the sensors miss that?  If Hoshi hadn't stopped by ..."  Archer still couldn't believe how close they had come to losing Trip.  When Hoshi had found him, sprawled on the floor of his quarters, his vital signs had been so low that Enterprise's com officer had thought the chief engineer was dead.  Fortunately, she was wrong.  Frantic work from Phlox had stabilized him, and Trip was now in Sickbay, still unconscious but out of danger.

T'Pol, studying the bracelet, now spoke.  "Ingenious."

Archer swung on her.  "I beg your pardon?"

"The Commander's work.  Ingenious."  Seeing that Archer was uncomprehending, she elaborated.  "Not only did he pick the bracelet's magnetic lock, he disabled the alarm it would usually emit when removed."  She continued her examination, then added, "And it appears that he programmed it to continue to broadcast false readings even after removal.  It is," she stated, handing the bracelet back to Phlox, "very impressive work."

Archer looked soberly at Phlox.  "He really meant business, then, didn't he?"

"He certainly was well aware of the fact that alcohol is prohibited while he is on his current medications."  Phlox looked at Archer.  "One thing is for sure.  This man is screaming for help – in the only way he knows how."

"He won't talk about it to you?"

"No.  Nor will he talk to Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Mayweather or Ensign Sato.  He has shut everyone out."

"Drugs," said T'Pol in her clear, dry tones.  Both men turned to her.  "If that is indeed the case, then I fail to see why you have not used the so-called 'truth' drugs."

Phlox was astonished.  "I beg your pardon, Subcommander?"

"The Vulcan Medical Database lists a number of drugs that have been successfully used – "

" – on Vulcan patients," Phlox interrupted.  His voice was tight and angry.  "Which may be perfectly acceptable on Vulcan and to Vulcans, but certainly not here.  Not in my Sickbay."

To judge by her expression, T'Pol was genuinely surprised.  "I do not understand.  You require that the Commander speak of his experiences.  Since you cannot use telepathy, as would be done on Vulcan, then why not use the tools available?  The drugs I am referring to of would compel him to speak without any physical after-effects."

"That's the problem," Archer said.  "Compel."

"Human psychology is vastly different from  Vulcan, Subcommander," Phlox added.  "I'm surprised I have to remind you of this.  The Commander must speak of this of his own free will.  To force him to relive his experiences would only harm him more."

Archer could see that T'Pol was still having trouble understanding.  "Look at it this way," he said quietly.  "Trip has already been violated physically.  Are you really suggesting that he be mentally raped as well?"

T'Pol winced slightly at the word "rape", then considered the Captain's remarks.  "I see," she finally said.  "I regret suggesting this, Captain.  I made the error of applying Vulcan values and methods to a human situation.  I apologize."

"You were trying to help," Archer told her.  "You had good intentions, and that's what matters in the long run."

"Good intentions aside," said Phlox, "we still have a problem."

Archer sighed.  "You're certainly right about that.  It's obvious we can't let him remain alone in his quarters.  God knows what he'll try next.  But I'm not sure that Sickbay is the right place for him, either."

"I agree," Phlox said.  "The Commander needs someplace private and safe.  But not by himself."  And he gave Archer a long, measuring look.

The Captain sighed again.  "I know what you're getting at, Doc, but ..."

"Ensign Roman's quarters are not in use.  Not since she moved in with Ensign Frederick."  T'Pol said.

Archer stared.  "I must be slow on the uptake today.  You think we should put Trip in Elizabeth Roman's quarters?"

"No.  But Lieutenant James is willing to relocate to Roman's quarters."

"Oh, of course.  James' quarters are right next to mine."

"Indeed.  And I believe that it will not take Engineering long to remove the wall between them."

"Right.  Well, carry on, Subcommander.  And have all of Trip's things moved in, once the work is done, will you?"

"Very well, Captain."  And she exited Sickbay. 

Archer waited until she had left, then turned to Phlox.  "Are you really sure this is such a good idea?  Me?  And Trip?  Considering what went on downplanet ..."

"You must get past that, Captain," Phlox replied.  There was a bite of impatience in his voice. 

Archer tried to explain. "It's just that I don't know what to say to him."

"Have you spoken to him at all?"

Archer looked away.  "Not really," he muttered.

"And how do you think the Commander feels about that?"

"Relieved, I would imagine."

Phlox shook his head.  "He thinks you're disgusted by him."

Archer stared.  "What?  Where the hell would he get an idea like that?  Damn it – I can't imagine how he managed to survive down there!  They ought to give him a medal just for living through the whole thing!  Disgust?  Not in a million years!"  He broke off, shook his head, then stared at Phlox.  "I thought you said he wasn't talking to you?"

"He's been talking in his sleep," Phlox said.  "Enough for me to make some educated guesses."

"Damn," Archer sighed.  "I really have screwed things up."

"Not irrevocably, Captain." 

"I hope not.  I guess I'm just going to have to figure out a way to look him in the eye again, that's all."

"If I may, Captain – I would suggest that you tell the Commander exactly what you've told me.  Eliminate all misunderstandings."

Archer exhaled.  "I'll try.  I'm just afraid I'm going to make things worse, that's all."

"I will be here to advise you, Captain.  I have no intention of allowing you to deal with this alone.  And I also happen to have a great deal of faith in your ability to deal with the Commander."

Archer looked ruefully at the doctor.  "Wish I shared that faith."

*  *  *

"Here we are," said Phlox cheerfully.  

Trip looked up, and was mildly surprised.  He had expected that Phlox would have taken him down to his own room, but instead, they were in front of the Captain's quarters.  Phlox buzzed, and the Captain himself opened the door.

"Here's your new roommate, Captain," the doctor said cheerfully.

"I've been waiting.  Come on in."

"What's going on?" Trip asked.  Both Phlox and the Captain looked at him in pleased surprise.  This was as much as Trip had said in a week.

"New set-up, Trip," Archer replied, doing his best to sound casual.

"You're going to stay with the Captain for a while, Commander."

"We don't want you getting into any more mischief," Archer added lightly.

Trip did not look entirely pleased by this prospect, but he did not protest.  Passively, he allowed Archer to help him out of the wheelchair and into his – their – quarters. 

Trip looked around, mildly surprised at the change.  It appeared that the Captain's quarters had suddenly doubled in size.  He looked questioningly at Archer, who smiled. 

"Lieutenant James has moved to Ensign Roman's quarters for a while."

"Where's Liz?"

"She moved in with Deborah Frederick," Phlox told him.

"Finally," Trip murmured. 

Archer and Phlox exchanged an amused glance.  "Yes, it did take them long enough, didn't it, Commander?" Phlox asked.

Trip did not respond.  Suppressing a sigh, Archer guided him over to the new section.  All of Trip's books, pictures and other personal effects were already in place.

"Home away from home," the Captain told him.  "Want you to be as comfortable as possible."

Trip looked around, nodded very slightly.  He swayed slightly, and Archer caught him.  "Maybe you should lay down," he said anxiously.

"Are you tired, Commander?" Phlox asked.

Trip nodded in response.  Suddenly, he wasn't just tired – he was exhausted.  He was sleeping as long as 18 hours a day, and he still felt as if he hadn't slept at all.  Phlox had been spouting a lot of psychiatric mumbo-jumbo at him as to why, but he really didn't care.  All he knew was that he felt like hell and wanted to lie down.

The bed was made up for him, and Trip noted that it was not a regular bunk.  He looked at Phlox.  "You'll be more comfortable in an adjustable bed," the doctor said, answering his unasked question.  

Archer helped him in.  "There you go," he said gently. 

Trip lay between the crisp clean sheets, and watched as Phlox pulled a couple of heavy blankets over him.  "All right?" the doctor asked.  Trip nodded in response.  That was another problem - he couldn't seem to keep warm enough lately.

"There are more blankets in the closet if you need them," Archer told him.

Phlox went into the bathroom, came out with a glass of water and a pill.  "Here," he said.  Trip hesitated.  "A mild sedative," the doctor assured him.  "Quite harmless, but it will help you rest."

When he still hesitated, Archer added lightly, "Doctor's orders, Trip.  And mine, too."

He took the pill and drank the water. 

"Comfortable?" the Captain asked him.

"Yes, sir," he murmured.

"Good.  Then go to sleep, Trip, and I'll see you in the morning."

*  *  *

Laughter.  Applause.  Faces, staring up at him.  And from behind, hands.  Hot, eager, greedy hands, groping, grabbing, touching.  He couldn't move.  Couldn't escape.  All he could do was endure.  Endure the humiliation.  The violations.  Endure the pain – and pleasure – being forced upon him.  Despite himself he moaned, then cried out.  This brought a fresh wave of laughter and applause from the audience.  He couldn't bear it anymore.  Please ... make it stop ... no more ... please ...

"Trip!  Trip!"  A voice he knew.  He awoke with a jerk, and found himself in his new quarters.  He trembled, and drew the blankets around himself, looked over to see the Captain sitting on the edge of his bed.

"You were having one hell of a bad dream," Archer explained.  "I figured I'd better wake you up."

Trip shivered again.  "Thanks," he whispered.  "Sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about me," Archer told him.  The Captain got up, went over into his living area.  For the first time, Trip noticed that a small refrigeration unit sat against one wall, and a microwave oven was on top of that.  Archer got a glass of something out of the fridge, put it in the microwave, and a moment later, came back to Trip's bedside, carrying a glass of hot milk.  "Sometimes the old ways are best," he told Trip, and handed him the glass.

Trip propped himself up on one elbow, considered the milk.  "Drink up," Archer said lightly.  "That's an order, by the way."

Slowly, Trip obeyed.  When he was finished, Archer took the glass from him, and Trip lay back down.  The Captain remained seated on the side of his bed.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked softly.

Trip shook his head.  He couldn't. 

"Although I have to say, I already have a pretty good idea what it was," Archer told him.

Trip was silent.  He wasn't sure how he should think or feel about things.  Him here with the Captain, and all the rest of it.  Considering his last encounter with Archer ...  He sighed.

"I'm sorry, Trip," the Captain then said.  "I've let you down pretty badly.  I just hope I can make it up to you."

Trip was startled into speech.  "Captain?"

"After what happened downplanet," Archer elaborated.  "I couldn't deal."  A rueful smile creased his features.  "You know, I told Malcolm and T'Pol that I would do whatever it took to get you out of there.  I wasn't happy about it, but I was confident that I could deal with it.  And I was wrong."

Trip stared at him.  "I don't understand."

"I've been, well, embarrassed, damn it.  To put it mildly.  And because of that, I've avoided facing you, because every time I do, all I can think about is what went on.  It's pretty cowardly of me, isn't it?  I'm sorry, Trip."

Trip considered this.  "You got me out of there," he pointed out.

"But look what I had to do to you.  Trip – believe me – I hated that.  I would have given anything not to have had to play their sick games.  To use you like that ..." he shook his head.  "I haven't known what to say to you."  He looked at his friend.  "Except I don't know how you managed to survive down there.  I think you deserve a god damned medal."

"Thanks," Trip said faintly.  "You don't think I'm ... "  He couldn't finish.

"I think you're one brave son of a bitch," was Archer's response.  "And I also think I'd like to bomb the Tasumi back to the stone age.  Too bad Forrest said 'no' to that one."

Trip looked alarmed.  "Starfleet?"

Archer understood.  "You were kidnapped and tortured.  That's all they know.  That's all the crew knows, too.  How they tortured you – not important."

Trip looked relieved.  "I shouldn't ... " he looked at Archer.  "Phlox says it's not my fault.  But ... I'm ashamed.  I feel dirty."

"Phlox is right.  You've got nothing to be ashamed of.  And as for feeling dirty – that's natural, Trip.  Most rape victims feel that way."  Trip winced at the blunt word, but Archer continued.  "But you're not.  I hope you'll come to understand that eventually."  He smiled again.  "I hope that you'll be able to forgive me, too.  For taking so long to tell you."

Trip thought about it.  "It is awkward," he admitted.

"I know," said Archer.  "But I'm willing to try.  How about you?"

Trip nodded. 

"Good," Archer said. "We'll just take it one day at a time, okay?"

"Now you sound like Phlox," Trip responded.

Archer shrugged.  "'Denobulanism'.  Catching, I guess." 

Trip smiled, very faintly and very briefly.  But it was still a smile, and inwardly, Archer rejoiced.  But all he said was, "You'd better try and get some sleep, Trip.  Otherwise, the good doctor will have my hide."

Trip nodded again.  He pulled his blankets up over himself.  "'Night, Captain."

"Good night, Trip."  He was tempted to add, 'pleasant dreams', but decided against it.  I'll just settle for no more nightmares.

*  *  *

Archer slipped quietly into his dim, silent quarters.  He had to constantly remind himself that in his present condition, Trip would not welcome Archer's usual crash-and-bang entrance. 

He looked into Trip's area.  The younger man was sleeping, curled on his side.  Porthos, was, as usual, snuggled up against him. 

Since Archer had acquired his new roommate, Porthos had taken it upon himself to act as Trip's canine guardian angel.  Aside from "walkies" and meals, the beagle rarely, if ever, left Trip's bed. 

Initially, Archer had been concerned by this.  But Phlox's reaction – one of utter delight – had reassured the Captain.  The doctor had explained that his research had show that "animal based therapy" – as he called it – was very helpful with humans.  Animals were often able to get responses from otherwise withdrawn individuals when all other avenues had failed.

"I had not taken Porthos' presence into my initial therapeutic plan," Phlox had told Archer.  "An oversight.  One that I will definitely remedy.  Porthos will be very helpful, Captain."

The beagle looked up, saw his "daddy".  His tail thumped against the mattress.

"Hey, there," Archer said softly.  "Have a good day?"

Porthos' tail thumped harder.  Archer crossed over, and gave his furry friend a pat, then fondly rubbed the silky ears.  "Did you take good care of Trip today?"  He stroked the dog's head.  "You're an good nurse, aren't you?"  Judging by the way Porthos' tail was wagging, it was a safe bet that the beagle agreed with that estimation.

Trip shifted slightly, and sighed in his sleep, but did not waken.  Archer supposed that this was an improvement.  For the first few days, Trip had jerked into a frightened wakefulness every time there was a sound.  But it appeared that the younger man was becoming used to his new surroundings. Or possibly he was soothed by the presence of Porthos.  Or both.  Or neither.  Who the hell knew?

The door buzzed, and Trip murmured in his sleep.  Not wanting to wake him, Archer hurried to the door.

It was Hoshi.  "Admiral Forrest sent you this," she said, handing him a transmission disk.  "Said you were expecting it."

"Yes, I am.  Thanks, Hoshi."

"The Admiral also said to tell you – he hopes it'll help."  Her voice rose on a slightly interrogative note.

"Thanks," Archer repeated.

Hoshi looked past him towards Trip.  "He sleeping?" 

Archer nodded in response.

She sighed.  "He was sleeping when I checked on him during my break, too."  She looked at the Captain.  "He's sleeping an awful lot, isn't he?"

"I know.  And it worries me, too.  But remember what Phlox said."

Hoshi nodded.  Despite the fact that Phlox had Trip on the maximum safe dosage of antidepressants, they didn't seem to be making much difference.  Trip was still apathetic and withdrawn, and slept for as long as 18 hours a day.  Phlox had told them that it might take as long as a month before there was any noticeable difference.

"I remember."

"So we'll just have to deal with it as best we can.  And wait."

She sighed again.  "Chef said to tell you that he didn't eat his breakfast.  Again.  And he was sleeping when Cunningham brought him his lunch, and since you said not to wake him up ..."

"Thanks, Hoshi," Archer said, gently but firmly cutting off the flow of her worried chatter.  "I know that already.  But thanks anyhow for telling me.  I appreciate it."

She smiled, contritely.  "Sorry, Captain.  I know I'm just babbling.  But it's just that ... everyone ... we're all so worried about him."  She looked over again to where Trip lay sleeping.  "If there's anything I can do, please, let me know.  I'll be so happy to help."

"I know, Hoshi.  And I appreciate it.  I really do.  And if I do need anything, I'll give you a call.  But right now, I think the best thing we can do is to let Trip get some sleep."

She nodded.  "Tell him I said 'hello'."

"I certainly will.  Goodnight, Hoshi."

"'Night, Captain."

Archer nodded, and closed the door behind her. 

He then looked at the disk in his hand.  "Well," he said to it, "let's see if you will be of any use."

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