Important A/N!!!!

This story is not a romance per se, the bulk of it is humor. However, what romance there is, including the epilogue, will be A/T. I understand that most of you are T/T shippers, and I respect that. Please respect my pairing by not sending me hateful reviews telling me how wrong I am. I don't go into T/T stories and do that, I am simply requesting that the same level of courtesy be returned to me. Thank you.

Title: The Impossible Dream Author: Chocolatequeen Rating: PG Archiving: Archers and Endeavors, anywhere else please ask Disclaimer: I own neither Enterprise nor Don Quixote. Summary: After watching a recording of his high school play, Jon finds himself lost in another world.

Chapter 1: I, Jon Quixote

Darkness, there was so much darkness. Jon groaned and shifted against the deck, fighting the darkness and the pain pulsing behind his eyes. "Where am I?" he mumbled, pulling himself upright.

It was a rhetorical question, but as he looked around the unfamiliar cabin, he realized with a growing sense of panic that he really didn't know where he was. "Whoa, I must have hit my head pretty hard," he said weakly, rubbing the aching knot above his left temple.

Despite his initial instinct to panic, something deep inside him was urging him to be logical. "Right, logical. So what do I remember?" He frowned, wracking his brain for something, and piece of information that might lend a clue to his identity. "I'm called. Jonathan!" he proclaimed triumphantly. "My name is Jonathan Archer!"

Knowing his own name did more to calm him than anything else could have, and very soon memories of his most recent adventures flooded his mind. He saw images of himself on a dusty road, carrying a sword as he sallied forth to glory, visions of strange four-armed giants, and a strange memory of being surrounded by mirrors. Putting the pieces together, he drew the only conclusion he could. "I am a noble knight!" he cried out joyously. "Mine is the highest calling, as I travel from town to town, robbing from the rich to. No, that's not right," he said with a frown.

Pulling himself up onto the bed, he searched for more clues. "Every knight has a quest," he realized. "What's mine?" The very word "quest" seemed to unlock a whole stream of memories. "To run where the brave dare not go. that means I." His mind struggled to grasp yet another memory that threatened to slip away. "I am boldly going where no man has gone before!" he remembered. "And when I do, I protect the weary and oppressed along the way, all with the help of my worthy squire."

Suddenly, clear blue eyes and a Southern drawl eased there way to the front of his brain. "Sancho! How could I forget Sancho?" he bemoaned. "What kind of knight errant would forget his own squire? I must find him," he announced, getting to his feet.

He took a step toward the door, wincing at the pain that went shooting through his head at the motion. When he got there he reflexively reached out to touch a button, opening the door before he even realized what he was doing. Standing in the corridor, he looked first right and then left, uncertain as to which way to go. Try as he might, he had no memory of this place. "We must have been overtaken by villains, Sancho and I," he reasoned. "Why else would I not recognize my surroundings? Sancho may be in grave danger, it will be up to me to rescue him!" he declared. "But first, right or left?" He looked down both ways again and finally moved toward the right. "I'm coming Sancho. I think," he muttered.

Following the corridor, he passed several closed doors. Part of him wished to open them, but once again something in his gut spoke to him and said no. Finally, just when he was about to succumb to the pounding in his head and sink back in the merciful blackness, he saw an open door ahead. "Maybe I can at least sit for a while until this pain abates," he said weakly as he stumbled into the mess hall.

He pulled out a chair and collapsed into it, oblivious to anything but the greyness that was pressing down on his vision. Hence, he did not even notice the other occupant of the room until he heard a blessedly familiar voice. "Cap'n, what happened?" Trip asked. "Not to be insulting, but you look like hell, sir."

Trip approached his commanding officer with a level of concern that soon turned to confusion. Jon's eyes had focused on his face the instant he'd heard him speak, a broad smile gracing his features. "Sancho!" he cried. "I feared I would not find you in time. But how did you escape their vile clutches?" he asked, puzzlement wrinkling his brow.

Trip stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the man who'd been his best friend for the better part of ten years. "Jon? Do you know who I am?" he asked tentatively.

"Why of course I do," Jon scoffed, bringing a look of relief to Trip's face that disappeared with his next words. "You are Sancho, my faithful friend and loyal squire!"

Now Trip was well and truly befuddled. "And who are you Cap'n," he asked, half afraid of the answer.

"What kind of question is that? I'm Jonathan Archer, Knight of the Woeful Countenance!"

"Knight of the." In a flash, Trip knew what was happening. "Yes Cap'n. I mean, my lord. Do you remember where you are?"

A flash of bewilderment crossed Jon's face before he answered. "I had hoped you would know more about that than I," he remarked woefully. "You see, I fear this blow to my head," he gestured to the nasty black and blue lump he was sporting, "has addled my mind slightly. But I am assuming The Enchanter captured us and took us to his lair?" he questioned, looking to Trip for confirmation.

Trip drew a deep breath before answering. "No quite, my lord. This is our home."

Stunned, Jonathan looked around and caught a glimpse of the stars through the porthole. "Are we sailing through the heavens?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Yep. Don't you remember? You decided that other planets needed a knight protector just as much as Earth, so we left two years ago for the stars." Trip held his breath after he told this slightly skewed version of the truth, hoping the captain would buy it, he himself very pleased with the story he'd come up with.

He seemed to consider that for a moment before smiling. "That is a noble endeavor!" he pronounced.

Trip grinned at that. "Yes Cap. my lord, it is very noble. Why, so far we have stopped wars, freed innocent prisoners, and helped a group of refugees get to freedom." A possible way to for help struck him and he said, "In fact, I was just on my way to find out what our next gallant action will be."

"We shall go together!"

"No! That is, your head looks like it's hurting you something awful. Why don't you just sit here and." he stopped and looked around desperately, then ran to get a cup of coffee. "You just sit here and drink this. It'll help your headache and I'll be back before you even know I'm gone," he promised, backing out through the door.

"T'Pol is never going to believe this," he muttered as he raced down the corridor to her quarters. Arriving slightly out of breath, he pressed the call button until the door opened to reveal a pajama clad Vulcan. "Evnin' Sub-commander."

"Commander Tucker, I assume there is a reason you are standing outside my quarters at 01:42 in the morning," she inquired coolly, eyebrows raised.

"Nah, I just felt like pissin you off. Listen T'Pol, do you know the story of Don Quixote?" he asked anxiously.

Her eyebrows shot up even farther at that. "Good night Commander. If you still wish discuss human mythology in the morning I might have time to listen."

She moved to shut the door but was stopped by the anger and frustration in his voice. "If you care about the cap'n you'll listen now!" he spat out. Seeing that he had her attention, he continued with his explanation. "Don Quixote was a crazy old Spanish man who thought he was a knight. He pulled all kinds of ridiculous stunts in the name of nobility, stuff like fightin a windmill. I just came from talkin to the cap'n and it looks like he thinks he's Don Quixote."

"It is highly unlikely that the captain is suffering from an identity crisis," she countered.

"Yeah, well the knot on his head seems to be controlling his actions a little," Trip retorted.

She looked at him a long moment before nodding. "Wait here while I change," she ordered, shutting the door in his face.

"Yes ma'am," he grumbled sarcastically.

Five minutes later he was practically climbing the walls. "Took you long enough," he snapped when she reappeared, fully clothed.

"I took the liberty of waking the senior staff and asking them to meet me in the briefing room in thirty minutes," she replied calmly. "Now tell me what you know about the captain's condition."

"Well, he came into the mess about 10 minutes ago, looking like he was 'bout ready to keel over, you know what I mean? He had this lump on his head and he was all washed out. so anyway, I asked him how he was doing."

"Did he respond at all?" T'Pol interrupted.

Trip snorted in response. "Oh yeah he responded! He looked at me and asked how I'd escaped their vile clutches. Then he called me Sancho."

"Sancho?"

"That's the name of Don Quixote's squire in the story," he explained.

"I see. And did he happen to mention whose vile clutches he thought you had escaped?" she queried.

"The Enchanter, Don Quixote's arch enemy."

"Hm. Carry on with your story."

"So I told him as much of the truth as I think he'll believe. He knows we're on a starship and it's our home."

"What was his reaction?"

"He seemed to think that traveling the stars righting the wrongs of the galaxy was worthy work for a knight," Trip replied wrly.

By this time, they'd reached the mess hall. T'Pol started to walk in but Trip put a hand on her arm to stop her. "I should warn you, he'll probably call you."

But it was too late. Jon saw her soon as she stepped into the doorway, and his eyes lit up with a soft glow. "Dulcinea!" he breathed.