4

Crew Quarters, B Deck, 0812 hours, October 13 2152

Trip was dozing in the chair when Jean came back the next morning. She stood just inside the door, smiling affectionately at the two sleeping men before stepping over to Trip and nudging his foot with hers. He didn't wake. After a moment's thought she covered his mouth with one hand so any noise he might make when he woke up wouldn't disturb Reed.

"Trip. C'mon, Trip. Wake up." Nothing. An evil glint came into her eyes. "Commander!" she hissed into his ear. "There's a problem in the warp core!"

Immediately he sat bolt upright in the chair, almost knocking her backwards as she leaned over him. He looked panicked as his eyes darted around the room for a few seconds. Glancing at one friend asleep in bed and another standing close to him with a smile tugging at her lips reminded Trip where he was.

He relaxed, gesturing for her to move her hand. When she did he leaned forward, a serious but sleepy look on his face. "Y'really shouldn't do that t' a guy, 'specially when he's sleepin." He was awake enough to remember to whisper, but so sleepy that his southern drawl was exaggerated.

She shrugged, pursed her lips and put a hand in her pocket, looking down at the deck. "I couldn't wake you up otherwise. Unless you'd rather sleep here than in your quarters." She didn't look at him when she spoke, letting him know that despite her cheeky tone she was sorry. "Anything exciting happen since I left last night?"

Trip stretched his arms up over his head, making small, satisfied noises when he heard his joints pop. He yawned, closing his eyes, and then tried to blink away his sleepiness. "Mm? M'sorry, did ya ask me somethin'?"

Smiling, she patted his arm and tried to heft him out of the chair. "Mister, you need to find a bed and go to sleep in it, soon."

He stood up, yawned again and looked at her owlishly, his expression asking her to repeat her question. Her hand was still on his arm, and she steadied him when he swayed on his feet.

"I asked if anything exciting happened in here after I left."

"Not really." He roughly scrubbed a hand across his face, acknowledging the stubble on his jaw and blinking wide. Damn, but I need coffee.

"Malcolm woke up thirsty a couple times an' I got him water, an it seemed like he was havin' a bad dream a couple hours ago. Kept mumblin' somethin' about bein' stuck under the ice. Quieted down pretty quick, though. I was gonna wake him up, but just when I was about to he seemed alright again. Little while ago he said he felt sick so I helped him to the bathroom and then back to bed afterwards. Since then he's been sound asleep."

She patted Trip's arm and started to lead him away from the bunk. "It sounds like you'd make a good nurse. I'll take over in here. You've earned yourself a few hours of shuteye. Go sleep."

They were halfway to the door when a low but distinctly annoyed voice caught their ears. "Could you keep it down? I'm trying to sleep in here, and you two aren't making it easy."

Right away they flashed each other huge grins and came over to the bed. Trip patted Reed on the shoulder, frowned when his friend winced, and seconds later was all concern. "Hey pal. How're ya feelin'?" His voice was soft. He'd had bad hangovers and didn't want to make this one any worse for his friend.

"Ruddy awful. Thirsty. 'S too bright and loud in 'ere."

Reed had propped himself up on one elbow and was halfway between sitting up and lying down, trying to decide which would be more comfortable. He rubbed the side of his hand into one eye, then the other, blinked sleepily a few times and then squinted at his visitors.

"How'd I get back here, anyway? Last thing I remember is being in the tavern, but after that it's all just a blur . . . can someone please tell me why my head hurts so bloody much?"

The questions weren't directed at anyone in particular. It seemed like he was talking to himself.

"After Phlox released you from Sickbay you weren't really awake, so Trip and I helped you get to your quarters."

"That's right." Trip stepped up after sharing a look with Jean. "We got you into bed, made sure you were nice and comfy. I stayed here for a while, just in case you needed anything."

"Lovely, one mystery solved, then." Reed grumbled, starting to fiddle with the edge of his covers. After a few seconds he froze, closed his eyes and sighed. When he looked up at them again he was grimacing. "I, um . . . I don't suppose I thanked either of you last night, for helping me?"

And now he's back. Well, it was fun while it lasted, but it had to end sooner or later.

She smiled ruefully and sat down on one corner of Reed's bed. He seemed startled for a second but relaxed considerably when she smiled. "Feel free to thank us now. And even though you were pretty out of it last night, you still tried to convince us that you were alright to go on duty."

Reed moved over to make room for her without thinking about it much, preoccupied with trying to sort everything out. "I'm . . . thank you. Both of you."

She rested a hand on his arm, patting him reassuringly. "You're welcome. Now, d'you want to sit up or lie down?"

He shook his head 'no' then squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as his headache increased tenfold. "So why does my head hurt? I had a headache when I woke up before, but Trip said he didn't know anything about it."

She turned to look at Trip and saw that he was trying to sneak out of the door. "You didn't tell him?" she practically hissed the question.

Trip froze in mid-step, then slowly turned to face her with a guilty expression. "I, uh, boy I'm tired. I'd better get to bed. See you both later."

He made his escape, but not before receiving a serious glare from Jean. "Coward. You know that you're a dead man."

Reed turned to look at her as the door closed behind Trip, seeming very confused by what they'd said. "What didn't he tell me?"

She scowled at the door for a second. "Like I said, he's a coward." Then she faced Reed again, making sure to get rid of the scowl before he saw it. "Here, could you move over a little? I'd rather not fall off the bed."

He scooted over slightly to give her more space, nodding very carefully. "Of course. Jean, what didn't he tell me?"

He watched her fidget, biting her lower lip and checking the time every few seconds. "D'you remember that drink I got for you down on the planet? It turns out it was a type of strong alcoholic beverage. Their local equivalent of schnapps."

At first he was confused. His brain refused to process what she'd said. Then, slowly, things began to make sense. His headache, the way his stomach felt, his headache, why everything seemed so loud and bright, his headache. He groaned when it finally sank in, letting his head fall forward until his chin rested on his chest.

"I drank on duty." His voice was a low, resigned mutter. "I got drunk on duty. On a mission, no less." Now he was louder and picking up speed.

God, here we go. I've gotta stop him before he gets there.

"No, Malcolm, wait—" She tightened her hand on his arm, shaking her head and trying to get his attention.

But he didn't seem to hear her and didn't turn to look, either. "Well, I suppose Captain Archer will put me on report for conduct unbecoming of an officer, if he hasn't already, that is, and . . . "

"No." At a loss, she'd put her hands on his shoulders and shook him gently, maneuvering so he had to look at her. He just blinked, too surprised to do anything else.

"Malcolm, stop and just listen to me. Trip and I should've scanned the drinks before letting you or Hoshi touch them. The captain doesn't blame either of you. If anything, he's mad at me and Trip for being careless and endangering both of you. But nobody was hurt, so as far as he's concerned it's a non-issue."

A spark of hope lit in his eye. I want to believe her, but . . "Are you sure? No reprimand, nothing?"

She nodded, loosening her hold on his shoulders. Okay, good. This is progress. "I read the mission report. All he said about you was that you showed conspicuous bravery and selflessness in protecting the well-being of a crew mate. D'you know what that means? Malcolm, he's putting you in for a commendation!"

Instead of being pleased, as she'd expected, he looked utterly lost. "I don't understand. I broke the regulations. There have to be consequences for that."

One of her hands moved up from his shoulder to gently poke a finger at his forehead. Despite the lightness of her touch, he still winced. "I'd say your hangover is consequence enough. That and being off duty 'til tomorrow."

He didn't answer, just got a thoughtful look on his face. "Did I make a fool of myself down there, when I was drunk? and please tell me the truth."

To tease or not to tease, that is the question . . . She checked his face. Don't tease.

"Well, Captain Archer was trying to thank the tavern owner . . . He wouldn't let us pay for the drinks and insisted that we keep the clothes and blankets he'd given to you and Hoshi. The captain was about to thank him and go into his schpiel about persuing future relations when you stepped up."

He groaned, closing his eyes. "God, I don't remember that at all. What did I say?"

"You thanked the tavern owner for letting you keep the blanket and told him that you enjoyed the drink, but I'm pretty sure he'd noticed that already. You would've said more but Trip stopped you. We left after that. On the way out you asked Trip whether he wanted to get some bourbon, but he thought you'd already had enough."

Now he was slowly shaking his head with his face in his hands. She took first one wrist and then the other, pulling them both away and nudging him under his chin, but he still hung his head dejectedly.

"The captain. . ." His voice was a choked murmur, and while she understood why he was upset, the constant repetition of the same topic was starting to bug her. Time for some tough-love.

". . . Was surprised and more than a little amused by what his tactical officer said, but more concerned about the effect of alcohol on the health of his comm. officer and the aforementioned tactical officer, who were both already in the early stages of hypothermia. Okay, Malcolm listen up; you are not in trouble. On the contrary, Captain Archer was impressed by your courage and quick thinking. And while we're on the topic, he doesn't know how you feel about water and he was still impressed. Because I do know, I've just gotta say that, like I told you on the planet, I'm really proud of you. Now, stop beating yourself up for doing a great job!"

She nudged him and kept on nudging him until he cracked a smile. When he finally did, she got up and brought over a glass filled with juice. She sat down and held it out to him, smiling in a way which let him know that drinking it wasn't optional.

He took the proffered glass, looking at its contents while she got comfortable on the bed. "What's in it?"

She snagged a pillow and leaned against him, using the pillow as a buffer and ticking the fruits off on her fingers. "Tangerine, pineapple, kiwi, orange and guava . . . but you stopped listening after I said pineapple, didn't you?"

He grinned lopsidedly. "Am I that obvious?"

"You are. Honestly, I don't know how you manage on those undercover missions. ." She fidgeted with the seam of a pillow, self consciously dropping her eyes to the bedspread for a moment. "Actually, you're only obvious to people who spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure you out."

"Like certain ensigns." He took a sip, swallowed, and smiled. "Heaven . ." He leaned back against the pillows to enjoy the rest of the drink.

When the glass was half empty—or half full, depending on your outlook—Reed glanced over at her. He drummed his fingers on the rim of the glass, thinking before he spoke.

"Not that I don't appreciate all you're doing for me, I really do, but . . . why? Why do all this?"

Her arm looped around his shoulders and a moment later he realized that she'd put his free arm around her. "Because, Mr. Reed, for reasons passing understanding, I happen to care about you very much. I want you to be safe and happy."

His first impulse was to push her away, to stutter something about wanting her to leave, but. . .

. . . she said it herself; she cares about you. Don't do this to yourself. Not again. Don't miss out on a good thing just because you're too afraid to take a chance. You care about her, too, but . . .

. . . but how does it always turn out when you care about a girl? It ends badly every single time. The girl always ends up dumping you. First she gets discouraged and hurt because you don't seem to care about her, and when she can't stand any more disappointment she leaves you. I can't put Jean through that.

But she doesn't want a relationship. Does she? Right now she just wants me to be happy. No pressure, she just wants to be here. It wouldn't be gracious to thwart those plans. Besides, what's the harm? I'll worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

Smiling, he relaxed into the half-hug. "Thank you, and the feeling is mutual. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be against a little cuddling right about now . . ."

Damn. He started and looked over at her. "Ah, coddling. I meant to say coddling."

She nodded, straining to keep a mock-serious expression on her face. "Of course that's what you meant." A smile peeked through. "Not that one is significantly less incriminating than the other. Either way, I mean to spend today spoiling you rotten."

He settled back into the hug with a smile, enjoying how it felt to be warm and cared for. "In that case, I seem to remember you making a promise involving warm blankets, hot tea and a good book." For the time being, at least, he wasn't going to worry about anything.

"So I did. I've brought a teapot so we won't need to brew each mug individually, my personal stash of teas, two mugs, my quilt is sitting on the end of your bed, and I've brought a few good books for us to choose from. Not 'the' good book, though. I don't have a copy of it, and that's fine with me."

His mouth quirked. "Amen."

She looked sidelong at him, trying to decide whether or not she should hit him with a pillow. Better wait till he feels better. I'll play nice for now.

"Hmm. Bad jokes." She tilted her head against his. "At least that's a good sign. There's food here, too, if you're hungry. Toast, soup, fruit and more of that juice."

She waved at a covered tray on the bedside table. Reed shook his head and started to protest but she held up a hand, silencing him.

"Just pick a few things to nibble on. You're a little dehydrated, so I'm expecting you to have some more juice and maybe try the soup, and drinking plenty of liquids will help get rid of your hangover. The toast'll settle your stomach."

He looked at her quizzically. "Trip told me you were sick during the night, and since you do need to eat something . . ."

He tensed a little, shifting uncomfortably. "I wish he hadn't done that."

She patted his arm, briefly letting her hand move up to rub his back. "I'm sorry, but it's done. No changing it now, but he didn't go into any details. Besides, getting sick does kinda come with the whole glamorous hangover package."

Nodding, he relaxed again. "So, what books did you bring?"

Reluctantly, she removed herself from the bed to pick up a few thick books, putting them on the bed near his knee. "See for yourself. Pick whatever you want, I'm going to start fixing the tea. How does a nice pot of raspberry sound?"

"Mmm. Sounds good." He nodded approvingly, first at the tea and then at the books. "These all look good. Jean?"

She turned around, halfway to his stasis unit. "Mmm? I'm putting two sugars per mug and this pot makes about four mugs, so it may seem like too much."

"No, it's not that. I'm trying to decide between these books. Which do you recommend?"

"Well," she spoke with her back turned, busy getting the tea ready. "You saw that my favorite book is in there, right?"

Reed looked through them until a familiar title jumped out at him. He raised his eyebrows. "You mean 'The Princess Bride'?"

She twisted slightly in place, giving him a pleased, if slightly shy, smile. It was her favorite, and she liked that he had remembered. He'd enjoyed the movie on her birthday and seemed interested when she compared it to the book, explaining how Westley was more of a badass on paper than on film. "That's the one. Now, d'you want to-"

The teapot cut her off, whistling furiously, so she added the teabags to the water, carefully blowing on the teapot lid to avoid burning her fingers. The sugar was already in and now it was all set to steep. She looked at the clock, reminding herself to pour out the mugs in about five minutes.

He chuckled at her. "Ensign, there is a more efficient way to make tea."

"What have I told you about calling me that, hmm? Yes its less efficient, but I like doing it my way. It feels more homey somehow, less like we're on a starship and more like we're in an actual apartment somewhere." She carried the pot over, putting it down on the table by his bed. Before she did, Reed made room for it, moving the tray of food onto the bed. Except for the soup, of course, since that had to stay on a level surface.

"You were saying something, before?" Suddenly, maybe it was from looking at or smelling the food, he realized he was hungry. He reached for the soup and then, steadying the bowl with one hand, grabbed a slice of toast.

She sat down next to him again, careful not to jostle the soup. "Just wondering if you'd like to read it."

She watched as he dunked the toast into the soup, somehow managing to make the motion elegant. He did that - made ordinary things seem graceful - all the time. Sometimes he reminded her of an over sized cat, especially when he was trying to ascertain that an area was free from hostiles. He had a smooth but, at the same time, sharp way of moving when he was trying to clear a room. It was a serious job and he took it seriously, but seeing him glide across to a door frame and then snap around it, quickly bringing up his pistol to cover the area, amused her to no end. The seriousness of it, with how dedicated but silly he looked doing it, just amused her.

Reed smiled at her briefly before returning his attention to the soup. It was very tasty, some kind of ginger chicken with veggies and noodles, and he was hungry so it was disappearing quickly. "I'd enjoy it, Jean. It'll have to wait until my hands are free, though."

"Which shouldn't be long, with how quick you're going through that soup."

He slowed down, a bit sheepish. "No, don't." She touched his arm. "I'm glad you like it. Plus, you need to eat."

A small, shy smirk and he kept eating. "Now you sound like my mother. Or Phlox."

Her eyebrows raised, met and lowered again. "Now that's a visual. Phlox in an apron? Not sure how I'll sleep with that picture in my head."

The clock said that the tea had been steeping for almost seven minutes. Just right. She grabbed the mugs from the tray and put them near the pot. "Are you done with the soup?"

He bobbed his head, putting the bowl aside. "Want me to pour out?"

She couldn't help laughing a little. "I'm looking after you, remember?"

He leaned back against his locker, content. The soup had warmed him and filled him up nicely. It was actually making him a little sleepy, so he was glad they'd be having tea. He didn't want to fall asleep and miss out on any of Jean's visit. Still, he wasn't fully warmed up from the river, and he felt a bit chilly.

"I believe your promise of coddling included a quilt?" Any other place with any other person he wouldn't have asked, but he'd gotten used to and even come to like it when Jean fussed over him.

She looked over at him sharply. He was suppressing his shivers pretty well, but she knew him well enough to know that he was doing it. "Yeah." She got up right away, moved everything off the bed and onto the easy chair and unfolded the quilt, tucking it behind his shoulders. She hovered, then turned and poured a mug of tea for him.

He took it without hesitation, holding it in both hands to absorb the warmth and then blowing on it before taking a sip. Jean poured herself a mug too but left it on the bedside table, retrieving the book from the easy chair and settling next to him on the bed again.

"Better?"

He nodded, taking another long sip of the tea. "Thank you."

She put an arm around him on the pretense of fixing the quilt. "Don't mention it. Now, you should stay in there and get properly warmed up. I'll start the book for us."

He let her take over, watching as she opened the book and flipped it to the beginning.

"This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it. How is such a thing possible? I'll do my best to explain..."