Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters found herein. All original characters are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons is entirely unintentional.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Twenty-first century celebs have crazed followers. Is it fair to assume people involved in saving the planet would too? And what type of toll would saving the planet have on you, anyway?
Codes: Archer, T'Pol, other characters mentioned. General fic.
A/N: I took this story down a couple days ago because some truly nutty people thought I was "harassing them." I've changed the names of the characters in this story. I challenge any of you to say I'm talking about a "specific" person or that I'm "stalking" you. Because if you do, then I'll know you're crazy.
~~~
In the twenty-second century, they had ceased to call holding cells for the mentally insane "asylums." The term used these days was the kinder, gentler "reformation centers." Sadly, the science of mental health had yet to experience the rapid growth that the medical and physical sciences had experienced. Thus, while the it was not the nineteenth century by any means, the reformation centers were not hallmarks of enlightenment either.
Regardless, on the fifth day of January of each year for the past twenty-two years, Ambassador T'Pol visited the First Federation Reformation Center for the Criminally Insane on Abydos, a small colony located only four light years from Andoria. Her husband found time to visit more often, even with the busy schedule that came with being President of the Federation. While perhaps her schedule would have allowed it, T'Pol did not see the logic in doing so. After all, she told her husband, only one of the reasons she visited had any idea who she was, and even he was unfortunately deluded. Thus, the President's quarterly visits were unfathomable to the Ambassador.
Frankly, to the staff, the visits of both Ambassador T'Pol and her husband were strange. The sixth people they chose to visit had attempted to kill the President. The Archer Brigade, as they were known, had formed shortly after the NX-01 had returned to Earth victorious in the Xindi mission. At the time consisting only of five members, their heinous crime spree only grew in scope when their sixth member joined their ranks.
"Here we are, Ambassador," the head psychiatrist remarked, opening the door to the most restricted portion of the Reformation Center.
The Vulcan's eyebrow raised noticeably. "It is sufficiently warmer today than it has been in previous visits."
The psychiatrist nodded. "Yeah, we had to up the temperature. The ladies are going through their regular 'it isn't fair that we can't have sex with Archer,' phase again."
"They have removed their clothing?" It was a custom they frequently performed.
"Yep."
"The male?"
"He remains clothed."
Privately, T'Pol was relieved. She ignored that sensation as she came to stand at the first cell. Inside the woman sat, cackling away, as though she were laughing at some unheard joke. Occasionally, she would stop to shriek, "It was only a joke! Can't you take a joke!" Interwoven between her shrieks and cackles she rocked back and forth, muttering something about green skinned women.
"Pathetic woman," the psychiatrist muttered under his breath before yelling more loudly to the poor fool in the cage, "Susie Q, how are you doing today?"
"It's all rubbish!" the woman shouted. "Commanders should be able to have sex too! Other Captains do! Other Captains have sons, and daughters! Some are widows! T'Pol should be with Captain Archer!"
T'Pol simply raised an eyebrow and moved to the next cell. The woman in that cell was simply glaring at the wall in front of her.
"Brenda, how are you doing today?" the psychiatrist questioned.
"I am waiting for the years to pass. In a few years, who knows what may happen?"
The doctor looked momentarily confused, and T'Pol could only conclude he was new. "She is referring to my personal relationship with my husband. She believes that I will end my relationship with him in order to copulate with the Captain."
The psychiatrist sighed. "Poor stupid woman. She doesn't realize that Vulcans mate for life, does she?"
"She is mentally ill, Doctor. Such delusions are to be expected," T'Pol responded before moving on to the next cell. In it sat a woman who was calmly nibbling at her fingernails.
"Elizabeth, are you feeling well today?" the psychiatrist asked cheerfully. Too cheerfully, in T'Pol's estimation. After all, they were at a mental health institution.
"Neuropressure is evil. She should have been giving neuropressure to the Captain. Or even better, guided meditation."
Softly, the psychiatrist muttered, "Creep. Shall we move on to Charlotte?"
*The one my husband calls The Bitch,* T'Pol mused as she stood in front of the woman's cell. The woman's nickname was well earned as she walked up to the cell and promptly began to bang on the glass separating her from T'Pol. "Your have defamed your character by sleeping with Tucker! I like Trip, really, but Archer's such a better lover."
"I assure you, few would best President Tucker in that competition," was all T'Pol remarked.
"Well, that's awfully bitchy of you," Tammy retorted then added snarkily, "Maybe you should eat more ruffage in your diet. It's good for stress, you know."
Moving to the fifth cell, T'Pol straightened and smoothed her shirt down in order to control her emotions. The woman in front of her looked up, saw T'Pol and prompting began screaming. "You unfaithful whore! You belong to Archer! He defended you, he loved you, and you repaid him by stabbing him in the back and fucking his best friend. Archer deserved better than you, you whore."
T'Pol simply cocked her head, and replied, "Then perhaps he should have sought it."
T'Pol watched in fascination as the woman began shouting, "I have seen people like Tucker! He is no good. He stabbed his best friend in the back! He is a playboying jackass. How could you chose him over the much better Captain Archer?"
The woman then gave up all pretense of civilization and simply began howling.
"That's possibly the most disturbing thing I've ever seen," the psychiatrist remarked. "But appropriate. Like mad dogs, she howls."
"Indeed," T'Pol murmured before coming to the sixth cell. This cell was perhaps the most disturbing of all, for in that cell sat the former Captain of the Enterprise.
"Hello, Jonathan," the psychiatrist sang. "Are you feeling well today?"
Ignoring the man, Archer walked seductively up to the cell. "Hello, T'Pol. I'm ready for my sponge bath."
"I will not be performing that function, Captain, as you are well aware."
"Of course you will, T'Pol. You belong to me."
"I do not."
"YES, you do. You belong to ME, not that bastard Trip. Me, T'Pol, ME. You and Trip should be court-martialed for your actions!"
"On the contrary, Captain, it is you who have been court-martialed."
"You should have been in my bed."
"I have never wanted you sexually or otherwise, Captain. I was your friend and first officer. There was never anything further between us, and there never will be." T'Pol was a Vulcan, but there was only so long that she could suppress her emotions around these people. Turning, she signaled to the psychiatrist that she was ready to go.
On her way out, the psychiatrist couldn't help but ask, "If you'll excuse me, Ambassador, why do you visit these people? Six years ago, the Archer Brigade tried to assassinate President Tucker, yourself, and your son. If I were you, I would hate them."
"Vulcans do not experience hate, Doctor," T'Pol reprimanded him. "Nor would I hate them even if I were human. If I were human, I could do no more than pity them."
~~
The End.