Disclaimer: Star Trek (plus all its intellectual property) is owned by Paramount. No infringement intended.
OC Em Gomez used by kind permission of Chrysa.
Beta'd by VesperRegina, to whom all due thanks!
"Trip, the captain wants you to go down into the shuttle for a minute."
The engineer's face behind the glass window of the control box took on an anxious look. Travis had been sent up to pass a message on to him from the captain, who'd remained behind.
"Everythin' go okay?"
"Yes, there's just something he said he wants sorted before they finish up in there."
The rest of the landing party waited while Trip scooted obediently down the stairs and keyed in the door code. He immediately looked for Malcolm, now lying senseless on the floor; having seen him, he turned and stared at the captain.
"Shut the door and make sure the comms are off," ordered Archer quietly.
When this was done, he looked around at the puzzled faces of the rest of the landing party.
"I want to make one thing clear," he said carefully. "There's one thing about this that I left out of the reports I sent to Starfleet, and I intend to leave it out of every record of this incident. And I want your sworn words before you get out of here that you will never mention it either, not even to each other. Especially to the person concerned." He looked down at his tactical officer. "If I have any say in it, as far as Malcolm will ever know he was chained up and drugged, and that's all. The last thing he'd be able to cope with is knowing he thought he was a dog – and especially that some of us saw him that way." He looked at Phlox. "I hope, I believe, that the doc can cure what they did to him physically. And I hope for his sake that he doesn't remember anything that happened, the way he was treated. If he doesn't, he's not to hear a single word of it from anyone else."
"I think I can ensure that he will not remember, Captain," said Phlox gravely. "At least not consciously. The subconscious, of course, is a different thing."
"Well as far as the records are concerned, and the rest of us are concerned, and as far as every damned person on the ship is concerned, anything he hinks he might remember is just part of the delusion. If he asks, that's the story. And that's an order. Is that absolutely clear?"
Trip hesitated only briefly. He would have had material for almost unlimited teasing out of this, but he surely knew Malcolm well enough by now to realize that the Brit, always so sensitive of his dignity, really wouldn't be able to cope with what had been done to him, let alone being laughed at over it. The best of friends have to know where the limits are, and this was way, way beyond the lieutenant's. He nodded. "Clear as daylight, Cap'n."
Everyone else nodded too.
"And if I hear a single word on the rumor mill – Dios te ayude!" said Em, scowling in Tucker's direction.
"Not a word – honest!" The engineer sat back and raised his hands, trying unsuccessfully to achieve an expression of injured innocence. "Anyone would think ..."
"We don't think – we know!" Hoshi jabbed him in the ribs. "It sure won't be me, so that only leaves one suspect!"
"Okay, okay," he grumbled. "I already promised not to say anythin'!"
"Then if that is settled, I think the sooner we get the lieutenant down to sickbay the better." Phlox keyed the door control. "I shall fetch a gurney and some additional sedatives. The last thing we need is him recovering consciousness even partly before I get him into surgery."
"Yeah, it'd be kinda hard to hush up if he jumped off the gurney and started growlin' at people." Trip plainly couldn't resist a parting shot. "Though come to think of it, I'm not sure anyone would notice the difference."
"TRIP!" The younger man flinched satisfactorily from the glower. "That's enough!"
"Sorry, Cap'n."
Archer turned away so they didn't catch sight of the smile pulling at his mouth in spite of himself. Time enough for humor when he had his tactical officer back safe and sound. Maybe then he'd be able to let himself see the funny side of it. Right now there was nothing for him to do but report his actions to Starfleet and await developments. And, of course, accompany Malcolm down to sickbay and see him go into surgery – after which there would be nothing for him to do there either. Except wait.
God, how he just hated waiting.
"Phlox to Captain Archer."
"Archer here."
"He's coming round, Captain."
"Good. I'll be there in a minute."
He dropped the ball and rubbed Porthos's ears. "Want to come and see your Uncle Malcolm, buddy?"
It was unlikely that the little beagle grasped the full concept of the offer, but he was certainly fully alive to the prospect of a walk around the ship instead of lying in anxious silence with the silent, preoccupied pack alpha who'd returned after shift duty. He jumped up, wagging his tail.
"Yeah, I feel a bit like that too. Looks like after my last report I might even get away with endangering the trade agreement. With any luck, they'll just have the sense to let it die quietly, but we've done all we could, haven't we, boy?"
Porthos evidently agreed that they had; at any rate, he barked enthusiastically. Jon grinned as he pressed the door control button. "Just behave yourself in sickbay. And don't go barking at Malcolm. He might just start barking back."
He caught himself up on that guiltily. What happened hadn't been funny at all. Well, at least not at the time. In hindsight, now that Phlox had pronounced the surgery a complete success and all they had to do was wait for the patient to regain consciousness, it did have its amusing side. He suspected that Trip in particular was going to have a really hard time refraining from mentioning it, but the engineer was, under all his ebullience, far too kind to take advantage, however tempted he might be.
When he walked into sickbay he wasn't surprised to find that he wasn't the only visitor. Two female ensigns were ensconced by the biobed; one should be asleep right now, getting ready to start her shift in a couple of hours' time, and the other had almost certainly caught a quick snack in the Mess after her shift ended and spent the evening in here. Malcolm's collecting a harem, huh? He grinned. He couldn't imagine anyone on board less likely to harbor ambitions in that direction. At least not on board ship, where if one looked hard enough one could almost certainly find something in the regulations forbidding it – and his tactical officer, at a guess, would be able to quote it chapter and verse if required.
Phlox was standing watching, and the captain took up stance beside him. He pretended not to notice that Hoshi had one of Malcolm's hands in hers; it would be interesting, though, to keep an eye on how long it stayed there once the Brit was awake.
The surprisingly long, dark lashes fluttered, and then the gray eyes opened fully and blinked in dazed surprise.
"What … what happened?" he croaked. "How did I get back?"
"It's a long story, Malcolm. I think you'd be best reading up on the reports when you're up to it. You sure missed some excitement, though," said Jon affectionately.
The bewildered gaze traveled to Em. "Ensign? What are you doing here?"
"Just checking on you, Patrón. I'm out of here now!" She grinned at him, patted him on the shoulder and left.
He blinked after her in evident consternation, but then obviously made the discovery that his right hand was in contact with that of a junior officer in a manner strictly contrary to Starfleet regulations. He looked down at it and blushed. For an instant they all saw the intention to move it, but he didn't carry through. He let it lie there, and for a private man in front of his commanding officer that was eloquence enough.
Archer carefully hid a smile. There were a few things on board that he had to feign obliviousness to – Trip's relationship with T'Pol for one; it seemed that he now had to cultivate yet another blind spot.
"Just wanted to check you were back with us okay, Lieutenant. See, Porthos? You can stop worrying now."
The evidently baffled tactical officer looked down at the beagle as if wondering if things could possibly get any weirder. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. But at least he didn't bark.
"Everything is perfectly fine, Lieutenant," said Phlox, beaming. "You won't be resuming your duties for a few days, however. You've had to have quite a serious operation on your head, and I'm afraid you'll be here for a while so I can keep an eye on you."
It was difficult for a man already lying down to slump, but somehow Reed achieved it. "Yes, Doctor," he said in accents of the gloomiest resignation.
"I guess you won't be short of visitors, though." The captain carefully avoided looking at those linked hands. "When they're off duty, of course."
"I hope not." Malcolm didn't avoid looking at them. The small, slightly embarrassed grin was rather cute. And Hoshi had gone an equally cute shade of pink.
"Porthos, I get the feeling you and I are surplus to requirements around here." Jon looked down at his pet. "What say we go check out the Mess and see if Chef has any cheese? Just a tiny piece," he added hastily, remembering where he was.
Phlox caught the speaking look, and blinked a couple of times before he caught on.
"Why, I'm feeling a little peckish myself. I'll bring you back something for supper, Lieutenant, though I wouldn't imagine you're feeling particularly hungry yet."
The doors swished shut behind them, but unfortunately not quite fast enough to block out a murmured suggestion from Malcolm to Hoshi that he certainly wouldn't have uttered if he hadn't thought both the doctor and the captain were safely out of earshot. It appeared that not absolutely all of his delusional inclinations had been erased.
A couple of paces down the corridor Archer paused. "Did I just hear him say what I thought I did?" he asked incredulously.
"The surgery was on his brain, Captain. I imagine that other parts of his body were quite unaffected."
Archer shook his head in the effort to adjust the picture. He knew that still waters run deep, but … heck, not that deep. Besides, the man had only just woken up after surgery. He surely wouldn't be able to ….
He rerouted his train of thought fast. Don't go there, Jon. Just don't.
Too late.
The visual was now burned into the back of his brain. He'd never be able to look at either of them again without seeing it.
"Tell you what, Doc, after we've had something to eat would you care to watch some water polo? I've got some drinks in my cabin." He had a stash of bourbon, and some Andorian ale as well. Either. Both. Anything. Just to help him get some sleep tonight.
"Why, thank you, Captain. I'd be honored." Phlox's bright, guileless smile was no consolation. He wondered if Trip was doing anything. Where was Movie Night when you needed it? What did a captain have to do around here to have a properly run ship?
He sighed. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.
It was a dog's life.
The End.
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