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
The door buzzed, and Archer looked up from his book. It had been a quiet afternoon; Enterprise was currently surveying a stellar nursery. While this activity was fascinating for the Astrometrics and Science Departments, there wasn't much for the Captain to do, except to tell Astrometrics and Science to go ahead and be fascinated. So he had spent a lazy afternoon, catching up on his reading. Trip was curled up, having a much-needed nap, with Porthos as usual snuggled against his back.
"Come," Archer called.
Travis Mayweather came bounding in, as excited and enthusiastic as a puppy. "Captain! I've got news!"
Archer put his finger to his lips in a "shushing" gesture, but it was too late; Trip had awoken with a start.
"Sorry, Captain," Mayweather said contritely. "Commander."
"S'all right," Trip said drowsily.
Archer sighed inwardly. Too late. The damage was done. Trip was still troubled by nightmares and what Phlox referred to as "frequent waking", which meant that he woke up every hour or so during the night. The result was that even though the engineer slept a great deal, he was physically and mentally exhausted. "What is it, Ensign?" he asked, careful to keep the slight edge of irritation out of his voice.
"I just heard from my great-uncle on the Orion," Mayweather said, a little quieter but still jubilant. "The Vulcans caught them!"
"'Them'? You mean – "
Mayweather beamed. "The brother and sister. The ones who kidnapped Commander Tucker." At this, Trip looked over. "I put the word out," Mayweather explained, "and it got passed along all the Boomer routes. The Magellan spotted them in port two solar days ago, and called the Vulcan High Command and Earth Cargo Authority. ECA started after them, and they made the mistake of trying to escape by cutting across Vulcan space. The Vulcans caught them red-handed. Contraband, and," he hesitated, "ah, other cargo." He looked across at Trip, then at Archer. "You know what I mean."
Archer nodded.
"Those two won't be going anywhere for a long, long time. The Vulcans may not say much, but I know they hate that kind of thing." He grinned again. "I figured you should be the first to know."
"That's great news, Travis," Archer said, meaning it. "Thanks for stopping by."
Trip, however, was silent. Sensing trouble ahead, Archer repeated, "Thank you, Ensign." Hearing the definite dismissal in his tone, Mayweather nodded, and departed.
Once he was gone, the Captain went over to Trip's bedside. "Good news, huh?"
"Yeah," Trip said. But his expression, frozen and remote, said otherwise.
Archer pulled up a chair and sat beside him. "What's wrong?" Trip, idly stroking Porthos' fur, did not answer. "Trip?"
His friend looked at him then. "Am I going to have to testify?"
"I don't know,' Archer replied honestly. "It sounds like the Vulcans already have more than enough evidence as is. They may not need your testimony. I'll ask T'Pol to inquire. How's that?"
"Okay." Trip closed his eyes.
"That bad, was it?"
Trip exhaled. "Bad enough. I told you about her." He shivered. "But you don't know about him."
"Then tell me," the Captain said carefully.
"They had me trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey," Trip said, still not meeting Archer's gaze. "I don't know how long I was lying there. No way to tell time. Seemed like forever. And then one of their hired help came in ..."
Trip looked over as the door opened. One of the guards who had dragged him in entered, stood over him. The man leered at him, and allowed his lecherous gaze to travel along Trip's helpless form. Lightly, he brushed his fingers along the engineer's stomach, and Trip tensed. The guard smirked, produced another hypospray and injected him.
"Knocked me out cold. I don't know for how long. Not long, though. Because when I woke up, I could still feel that damned oil she had used."
He blinked, then woke fully. For one brief second, he thought himself aboard Enterprise. Had a hell of a dream, he thought. Have to lay off the sweets before bedtime. Then the events of the day rushed in on him, and he felt his heart sink. It wasn't a dream. It had been all too horribly real. He was still bound, but now was lying on his stomach. His hands were stretched over his head and bound together at the wrists and secured to the headboard, while his legs were spread apart, feet also tightly tied. He was almost completely immobilized. He could the rapid beat of his heart, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. "You're awake," a voice drawled lazily. "Good. I was getting tired of waiting."
"It was the other one," Trip said, still looking straight ahead.
"Her brother?" Archer asked. "Arex?"
Trip nodded, swallowed.
He craned his head over his shoulder, trying to see who the speaker was. Arex walked over to his bedside with an easy, boneless grace, and smiled down on him. "I have to admit," he said in the same, lazy drawl, " that when my darling sister is right about something, she is right." Trip kept silent. Like his sister, Arex sighed theatrically. "She warned me how stubborn you are. Ah, well. Like her, I also enjoy a challenge." He ran one idle finger down Trip's spine, and he shrank away in disgust and revulsion. "Come now," the man said. "It's not all that bad, is it?" He stroked Trip's shoulders. "Nice." And then his hand traveled down, and began to stroke the engineer's ass. "Very nice," was his comment. "Firm. Lovely." Trip squirmed, trying to evade the unwelcome touch. "I'm sure my sister has already told you," Arex said with exaggerated patience, "that you will simply have to get used to being touched like this. And I'm also sure that she has told you that life will be very pleasant for you, once you do. A little co-operation, and you'll reap all sorts of rewards." His hand reached down between Trip's legs, fondled him. Trip's hands clenched into fists. "Come, now," Arex began. "Surely you're – ". He stopped. Trip took another look over his shoulder. The man was staring at him. A slow smile spread over those saturnine features. When he spoke again, he seemed to be genuinely excited and astonished. "You aren't, are you? You're a virgin back here, aren't you? You've never been had, have you?" He took Trip's silence for assent. "How utterly delightful! Absolutely marvelous!" He smiled again. "I'll have to be careful, though," he mused aloud. "Zirella will kill me if I damage the merchandise ..."
"Merchandise," Archer muttered in disgust. "Pity they were caught trespassing in Vulcan space. I'd much rather the Klingons caught them." He looked over at Trip. "Sorry."
The younger man drew a deep, tremulous breath. "It's okay, Captain." Archer placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Trip stared at the ceiling for a moment, then continued.
Trip lay, his hands clenched in helpless rage and frustration, while Arex started to play with him. He put more of the oil on the engineer, then began running his hands along him with a brazen familiarity. Unable able to move or evade the hated, unwelcome touch, all Trip could do was endure. It was evident, however, that endurance was not what Arex wanted from him. He slipped a hand under him, began playing with his sex. Trip gritted his teeth and tried to resist, concentrating on the most complex maths he could bring to mind. All the math in the universe was no match for the stimulant oil. A double application made him hyper-sensitive, and he was beginning to react to Arex's insistent touch. He bit his lip; he would not give Arex any additional satisfaction by making noise. The man was as clever, skilled and cruel as his sister had been. He continued to manipulate his victim until Trip was once again on the brink. Then he simply walked away, leaving Trip hanging, his senses scrambled.
"I looked over," Trip said, "and he was having a goddamned cup of tea!" He swallowed. "He waited until I had started to come down, and then..." he sighed, "he came back."
Arex turned out to be remarkably patient. More so than his sister had been. He played with Trip for what seemed to be hours, bringing him to the edge and then letting him cool back down. The engineer's system was in an uproar; his sex ached fiercely, needing release, and he was so sensitized by now that the slightest touch was more than enough to send him into an agonized ecstasy. Despite his best efforts, after hours of this torture he could no longer keep quiet, and a low moan escaped him. This appeared to be a signal for his tormentor, because now Arex began to work on him in earnest. He felt something splash on him; a combination of lube and the oil. He closed his eyes, knowing what was going to happen next, frightened of it, hating it, but unable to stop any of it from happening to him. One abhorrent finger entered him; then two, then more. Arex manipulated him patiently, forcing him to accept this repulsive invasion. Trip clenched his jaw. He would not cry out. He would not give this pig the satisfaction of hearing him in distress. Just get it over with, he kept thinking. Just finish it! Arex was not telepathic, and even if he had been, it was doubtful he would have acquiesced to Trip's wishes. Instead, he kept his slow manipulations up. Finally, he felt those horrible fingers withdraw, and heard the man position himself behind him. Still exhibiting remarkable patience and restraint, Arex entered him slowly. Despite the preparation, there was still some pain. Trip fiercely welcomed this; better pain than otherwise. Arex pushed his way completely into him, then simply lay still atop him. He could feel the hot, revolting breath on his neck and shoulders, and realized that the man was going to wait; he was going to wait until Trip was used to this; to wait until Trip's pain was gone.
Trip stopped, his eyes full of tears. Archer squeezed his shoulder. Angrily, Trip shook his head. He sat up, displacing Porthos, who yelped in annoyance. He would have left the bed and stumbled away if Archer had not managed to get a hold of him.
"It's all right, " Archer soothed. "If you can't talk about this anymore, I'm not going to ask you to. It's okay."
Trip looked at him. "It was awful," he whispered.
Arex continued to wait, but was not idle while doing so. He continued to play with Trip the entire time; one hand was on his sex, rhythmically stroking, tantalizing, while the other continued its unwelcome explorations of his back, shoulders, arms, slipping under to torment his nipples and stomach. Trip found himself biting down on the pillow underneath him. He wanted to scream at his assailant, to tell him to just do him, damn it, just finish up already, but he knew that to do so would only prolong his agony. Finally, after an eternity, Arex started moving. His thrusts were slow and rhythmic, and Trip gasped despite himself; he was experiencing internal stimulation and the resulting pleasure for the first time. At this, Arex laughed. Trip wished he could block his ears, close off his senses, not experience what was happening to him, but he was trapped. Arex began to thrust harder, faster, pounding into his helpless captive. Trip had pain, but there was pleasure, too. The hand on his sex tightened, squeezed, began to move with purpose and finality. Trip groaned; he couldn't help himself, and Arex laughed again as he stiffened and climaxed. He did not immediately withdraw as Trip hoped; instead, he kept going. By this point in time, Trip was only vaguely aware of this, his world had diminished to the fact that he was in desperate need of release. Arex squeezed him tighter, and finally, he was permitted to come. He cried out when his orgasm struck him, and his hips bucked and jerked, causing his rapist to moan with satisfied pleasure. At last, Arex withdrew from him. "Delightful," he said. "Absolutely delightful." Trip still refused to speak. He felt raw, sore and stretched. He heard the door close, and was left alone. Finally.
Trip was trembling from head to foot. "They sent in a doctor," he told Archer. "At least, I think that was what he was. He gave me a shot, and the last thing I remember was that he was starting to take care of what ..." he couldn't continue.
Archer sighed. There was only one thing he could do for Trip. He put his arm around him, drew him in protectively. "You were raped," he said firmly, answering the question he saw in Trip's eyes.
"Was it?" Trip asked. "I mean, I reacted. I – I came."
"Did you want to?" Trip shook his head. "Did you want this man to have sex with you?" Another shake of the head. "Were you given any choice?"
"No," Trip whispered.
"I'm pretty sure that they wanted you to climax every time," Archer told him. "Not because they gave a damn about you. But the psychological impact would help them manipulate you. They wanted you to ask yourself if it was 'really rape'. To question whether deep down, some part of you wanted it, liked it. Like I told you before, that makes you vulnerable. Easier to control."
"I should have –"
"—'Should have' what, Trip? Those two were obviously old hands at this particular game. They held all the cards. But you know, you beat them anyhow."
Trip looked at him. "I did? How? I mean ... "
"It's very simple," Archer said, squeezing his shoulder. "You survived."
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