Cup Of Woe
Captain Jonathan Archer regretted his latest decision.
Scrunching his eyes shut from the pain, he tried to keep his breathing steady. The combined forces of wind and water were lashing at him, the salty spray stinging his cheeks. His lips had frozen in a silent scream of anguish. He was hurting, and it was his own fault. His hands curled into fists as he berated himself for having displayed a moment of false pride earlier.
Pushing the other man's concerns aside, Archer had said he would be fine. Just a stroll in the park, he had reassured with an easy smile.
Blue eyes had been assessing him for a long moment. Then, with a reluctant nod, the man had conceded to his captain, a knowing look in his eyes. Well, Archer was a stubborn man, and quite capable of taking care of himself.
And now here he was, timid and troubled, trying hard to stand firm in the onslaught.
When he thought he could take no more, he banged a fist in frustration. It hit a smooth and padded surface. Immediately, the gale stopped, leaving only the faint pulses of battered nerves. Blinking spray and tears away, he looked up in doctor Phlox's questioning face.
"Would you prefer I give you a local anaesthetic, Captain?" the Denobulan asked mildly.
His mouth still contorted, a plastic evacuator perched at the side, Archer could only respond with a pitiful "Aaaah!"
Dr. Phlox' smile widened.
Captain Archer may be lauded as one of the finest captains of the Fleet, but in this sickbay, Phlox was lord and master.
.
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A/N: 1. I didn't want to bother my beta for this little drabble, so any mistakes are mine. 2. No, this is not my entry for the I Am Fine month; I'm still working on that!
3. And yeah, this was derived from my own, vivid experience. I have a wonderful dentist, though. :)