Chapter Three: Who Bloody Knew Dreams Could Come True?
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: There's a bit of a POV switch in this chapter, with the incorporation of Malcolm's point of view into the mix. Up till now, the story's been told almost entirely from Cupid's angle, but honestly - do you think I'm going to pass up the chance to hear Malcolm's reaction to having a half-naked Hoshi Sato clambering all over him? Heck no! LOL! Enjoy!
Surreal. That was the only word that could describe how Malcolm's night was progressing. Surreal and off-kilter.
The cheering section crowded into Sickbay wasn't helping much, either.
"What's wrong with her, doctor?" the armory officer found himself asking as he hovered near Doctor Phlox's elbow while the Denobulan ran several thorough scans of Hoshi's vital systems. He blatantly ignored the audience pressed up against the glass, watching them from another section of Sickbay. The Doctor had banished the movie crowd there while he worked on diagnosing Hoshi's problem.
"Absolutely fascinating," was Phlox's reply. He tapped a few buttons on his PADD, then ran another scan. "Amazing."
"What is!" Malcolm barked impatiently. "What is so bloody fascinating? Is she going to explode or what?" He'd never liked doctors, precisely because of their penchant for being so bloody cryptic all the time. Absolutely fascinating, or Amazing, or Nothing to worry about at all, Lieutenant. Swelling of that type is only natural at this time of year for males in the prime of their sexual maturity.
"Ooooooh, Malcolm," Hoshi moaned from the table, her body rippling like waves on a river. "I just LOVE it when you're forceful."
Malcolm was trying his best to ignore her, but it was getting ever more difficult. They'd had to cuff her to the biobed so Phlox could examine her. Admittedly, Malcolm had concocted plenty of fantasies over the years that featured Hoshi sprawled out on a bed in restraints, but nothing quite this… bizaare. And usually they involved quite a bit more privacy, and oodles more leather.
"Explode? No," Phlox reassured him. "Though I'm sure she feels like she will, and soon. Her hormone levels are absolutely through the roof. I've never seen such elevated readings, not even in the Denobulan Stimwibbit during the height of its mating frenzy."
"That sounds uncomfortable."
"Oh, it is. Quite pleasant little creatures most of the time, but when they're ready to mate, stand back! They look something like toads with porcupine prickles and rabbit noses. Odd little things."
"I didn't mean the bloody Stimwibbits, Doctor, I meant Hoshi's hormone levels."
"Ah."
"Isn't there something you can do for her?"
The doctor tucked his PADD away in his pocket and crossed his hands in front of himself. "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. Whatever has heightened Ensign Sato's hormones has also made the effect irreversible. I'm at a bit of a loss on what to do."
"A bit of a loss? A bit of a BLOODY loss! Pull the other one, doctor. I'M the one she's gunning for, aren't I? Me! I can't have Ensign Sato clambering all over me during our bridge shifts, now can I? Or when we're off duty for that matter! It's fraternization, isn't it? I could be demoted for that!" He was getting stressed, which meant he was getting shrill.
"Lieutenant, calm down."
"I can't!"
"You must. Overreaction isn't going to help the situation."
Malcolm wheezed out a laugh. "I hardly think this is overreacting, Doctor," he said. "I think I'm bearing up admirably."
"Mmmmmmm, I think you're WONDERFUL, Mally," Hoshi cooed, batting her lashes at him and straining at her wrist cuffs again.
Malcolm swallowed.
"Doctor? How's Hoshi?"
Malcolm's back stiffened reflexively as Captain Jonathan Archer joined their group. The commanding officer looked deeply worried about his friend. Malcolm felt a flush of guilt that he was somehow responsible for that worry, even if he didn't know how.
"Her hormone levels are off the scale, Captain," Phlox replied, filling in Archer in on the same information he'd provided Reed.
"So there's nothing we can do for her?" The captain was obviously unhappy about that.
"I'm not so sure about that, Captain."
Both men looked at the doctor. "What?" Malcolm demanded. "What do you mean? I thought you said you were at a loss."
"For a cure? Yes. For a temporary treatment until I can FIND a cure, I may have an idea. Though..." The Denobulan furrowed an alien eyebrow.
"Yes, Doctor?" Archer pressed. "What's your suggestion?"
"I'm afraid it would require Lieutenant Reed to... broach a few boundaries he may not be comfortable with, Captain, which is why I'm hesitant to share the idea."
Reed felt his knees go weak, even as Hoshi squealed with delight.
"Let's hear it, Doctor," Archer said with a sigh. "Lieutenant Reed's an honorable man. I'm sure he'll do whatever's necessary to help Ensign Sato."
"As you wish, Captain," Phlox responded, and began to speak.
Five minutes later, Malcolm was lightheaded, dizzy,
and close to being sick to his stomach for the Nth
time that day.
"That's... an... interesting suggestion, Doctor," Archer said noncommitally.
Phlox gave the two humans an unearthly grin. "Thank you, Captain."
"A bit unorthodox, though."
"Ensign Sato's ailment isn't textbook, sir. It requires unconventional therapy."
"True."
"Of course, her hormones have been stewing unabated for quite some time now, so the initial treatment will naturally take longer than subsequent doses. Might I suggest Lieutenant Reed be reassigned to Sickbay for the next day and a half or so? Or perhaps be given a leave of ab-"
"Abso-bloody-lutely not!" Malcolm broke in, eyes darting between the Denobulan and his commanding officer. "Captain, I must protest! This is... depraved!"
"Oooooh, depravity," Hoshi purred, and wiggled her legs invitingly. "Yummy."
"Malcolm, calm down," Archer said soothingly. "No one's asking you to do anything improper."
"Nothing improper? Sir, the good doctor has just described that very thing!" Malcolm turned to Phlox, eyes wild. "You want me to... lay HANDS on Ensign Sato?"
"Lieutenant," Phlox replied calmly, "the few times you HAVE had physical contact with Hoshi since bringing her to Sickbay, her hormone levels have dropped noticeably. Those levels then immediately start to grow again upon loss of contact."
"Can't I just... hold her hand or something?"
"My theory is that the more prolonged and personal the touch, the greater the effect."
"No one's asking you to do anything... unseemly, Lieutenant," Archer remarked.
"For instance, I won't prescribe any sexual intercourse," the Doctor added off-handedly.
Malcolm nearly choked on his tongue. "Hell's bells!" he yelped.
"You'd prefer it if I did?"
"NO!"
"Fine then. Here." Phlox held out the data PADD he'd been tapping away at throughout his examination of Hoshi. Malcolm took it, and saw that the screen was filled with a detailed regimen of "acceptable" touch-related activities. //Hugging,// Malcolm read silently to himself, //holding hands, spooning, massage, INTIMATE massage...//
He felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick," he croaked.
"Then you're in the right place." The Doctor grinned, and turned to the captain once more. "Do I have your permission to prescribe the treatment, Captain?"
Jon looked unsure, but eventually nodded. "I don't see as there's any other way to curb the effects," he admitted. "If we can get her hormones down to a suitable level, perhaps we can get her lucid enough to tell us just what the hell happened to her." He turned to Malcolm. "Treat her right, Lieutenant," he said firmly. "Hoshi and I go way back. Understood?"
Malcolm managed a weak nod. "Crystal, sir," he replied.
"Good. Doctor, keep me apprised of the situation. I want to know the instant any progress - good or bad - has been made."
Phlox nodded. "Certainly, Captain."
"All right then." Jonathan glanced at Hoshi, who was currently pouting her lips in Malcolm's direction and flexing her pelvis at the armory officer. Malcolm wanted to crawl under a rock and die. "And Doctor?"
"Yes?"
Jon made a vague gesture in his comm officer's direction. "Get her some clothes to wear."
"Right away, sir."
Jonathan nodded, then exited slowly, glancing curiously over his shoulder a couple of times before finally leaving. He obviously wasn't used to seeing his friend so... wound up. Malcolm knew the feeling.
"Right then," Phlox declared amiably, clapping his hands together and grinning at the tactical officer. "I'm sure you'll want a bit of privacy. Would you like to use the decon chamber? Or perhaps somewhere more comfortable. Your quarters?"
Malcolm stared at the doctor.
Then, without any ceremony and absolutely no warning, he bent forward over his knees and wretched all over the Denobulan's shoes.
In the next room, the peanut gallery clapped.
Hoshi pouted. "Oh, poor baby. Let me kiss it all better."
Malcolm turned and bolted from the room.
Meanwhile, back in the empty screening room, T'Pol
and Cupid were thinking up a plan of action. Or
rather, T'Pol was thinking. Cupid was pacing up and
down like a caged lion.
"What was that!" he yelped suddenly, coming to a standstill and scanning the room around them with wild eyes.
"I heard nothing," T'Pol replied.
"You didn't hear a little popping noise?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"I assure you, I have excellent hearing. There was no popping noise, little or otherwise."
"Well... Okay." He was unconvinced, but recommenced his pacing. "Think of anything yet?"
T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him. It was an annoying little habit of hers. He debated - for the hundredth time - cursing her eyebrows away and leaving her with a bald forehead. But he was already in enough trouble without adding Vulcan baiting to the list. "If you are the god you purport to be," she argued composedly, "then it would seem the burden of planning would fall to you. I am unsure of how to counter sorcery, if sorcery is in fact what is at work here."
Eros turned to her, hands on his hips. "Why won't you believe I'm a god?" he asked sulkily.
"You have not yet provided me with adequate proof."
"The floating on a cloud and invisibility thing didn't convince you?"
"I have already explained that invisibility, in any form, is merely an illusion, not magic. And levitation, while unusual, can easily be accomplished through technological means."
"And the shoulder thing?"
"There are a number of alien races that possess remarkable healing abilities. You may be one such species."
Cupid rolled his eyes. "Whatever. This isn't helping. We need results, and we need them fa- What was that!" He froze again, eyes darting left, right and center.
"What was what?"
"I heard something!" he whispered.
"No you did not."
"Yes I did!"
"If your mother wished to do you harm, do you believe she would let you hear her approach?"
Cupid whimpered. "I don't know. She's tricky."
"Perhaps she has not seen you yet."
"Perh- THAT'S IT!"
T'Pol arched another eyebrow, but Cupid ignored it. "That is what?" she asked.
"The answer! It's the eyes! Oh man, I don't know how I didn't think of it straight off! I'm such an idiot."
"I will refrain from comment," T'Pol said drily.
Eros ignored her and dug into his jumpsuit pocket, pulling out a slender cell phone. Flipping it open, he hit speed dial #5: Obee and Ania
T'Pol eyed the phone placidly. "What is that?"
"A cell phone, Tee-pee," he said, feeling uncharacteristically cheerful considering the level of trouble he was in. "Early 21st century Earth technology. Massively outdated now, of course, but that doesn't matter. I mean, I'm a god. Do you KNOW how great that is for reception?"
T'Pol said nothing, and Cupid listened as the line rang once... twice... three times...
"Pick up," he muttered impatiently. "Come on, Obee, I know you're - Hey! Obee!" He grinned broadly as the other end of the line was picked up. "Long time no talk, buddy! How're the woods? ... Yeah? ... Oh, man, that sucks. ... Well, you know what they say - hindsight's twenty-twenty. Which is really deceptive, you know, since the last time I was at Delphi the oracle was pretty twenty-twenty with her FORESIGHT about that horse I bet on in the Olympian games. Remind me to never, EVER bet against a centaur when it comes to horseflesh, all right? Hey, actually, while I'm chatting with you and all, I wonder if I could ask you a favor? ... No, no, no, nothing like THAT, Obee. Nope, I learned my lesson with that last time. Honest. Really! ... Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, I've said I'm sorry so many times now, it's gone out of style. ... Well they grew back, didn't they? So why're you complaining! ... Oh. Ouch. ... Okay, I'm sorry. AGAIN. Now can we talk about MY problems for a minute? ... Yeah, well, the fact of the matter is, I did a little of my mojo, but something went massively haywire and now I've got to UNDO it, which means I need that little herb of yours. ... No, no, not the purple flower. I'm the God of Love, Obee, why would I need love juice? ... Look, I don't have a lot of time to argue with you, Obee. You're the only one who can hook me up with the stuff, and I'm willing to do anything to get it, and FAST. Just ask, and I'll deliver. ... Obee! Dude, that's inhuman! ... Well... Yeah, okay, so you're not human. ... Okay, okay, neither am I. ... Fine! Sheesh. Remind me not to send you a casserole next Solstice, Mister Bitter. ... Uh-huh .... Uh-huh ... Awesome. All right, Obee, I'll be there lickity-split to get the merchandise. ... Okay. Thanks man, I owe you big. ... Yeah, I know you're going collect. ... No, I'm not leaving town anytime soon. Why do you ask? ... Obee! You wound me. You really, really wound me. Look, give my best to Ania and the little ones, all right? I'll see you soon! And Obee, I do mean SOON. Later!"
Eros flipped the phone shut and tucked it back in his pocket. "Man," he muttered, shaking his head and looking at T'Pol. "You immortalize the guy in ONE Shakespearean play* - ONE! - and he suddenly thinks he's, like, king of the world or something. The guy's on a total ego trip, I swear. But he's got what we need!" It was all he could do to keep from squealing with glee. "T'Pol, babe, we are on our WAY!"
"Do not call me babe."
"Fine, whatever, Miss Thunderhead. You're not going to rain on my parade! All I've got to do is teleport over to Oberon's little villa, pick up some of his healing herbs, come back, do a little eye-swabbing, and bingo! The God of Love is back in business, and no one's ever the wiser." He crossed his arms smugly over his stomach. "Am I good or what?"
"Your pocket is smoking."
The response was so unexpected, Cupid had to blink. "What?"
T'Pol nodded to the hip of his jumpsuit. "Your pocket," she reiterated, "is smoking."
Looking down, Cupid was shocked and amazed to discover that the Vulcan was right. His pocket was, in fact, smoking. Rather like a chimney, actually.
"What in Hades...?" Reaching in, he carefully pulled out his cell phone with two fingers. It fell out of his grip and clattered to the floor, before bursting into flames.
"Intriguing," T'Pol remarked.
Eros, meanwhile, felt himself go white as a ghost. "Oh... no," he whispered hoarsely. He watched with wide eyes as the burning cell phone suddenly exploded; but instead of sending pieces of smoldering plastic and metal spraying in all directions, the obliterated phone sent out a burst of sweet smelling, vanilla scented rose petals.
"More intriguing," T'Pol said.
"Oh... crap," Cupid groaned, covering his face with one hand. "She knows!"
TBC...
*For those who might not be familiar with
Shakespeare, the play Cupid references is "A Midsummer
Night's Dream." Obee and Ania are, respectively,
Oberon, King of the Fairies, and Titania, his queen.
Oberon used the juice of a special purple flower to
make Titania fall in love with Bottom - a man made to
look like a donkey - as punishment for an argument he
and the queen were having. He later cured the love
potion by swabbing her eyes with special herbs which
lifted the enchantment and made her see clearly again.
It is THESE herbs that poor Cupid is after, if his
mother doesn't feed him to pigeons first. LOL!