Title: The Q Experience

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

Rating: PG

Genre: Humor/General

AN: Thanks to Reedie (what kind of games did you play *g*? Just curious), Gabi (e-mail gekriegt? Schick Chapter 17, bittebitte! ;-) ), grubber, Dacker Spaniel (flu slows them down?? Well, some of them, maybe, but some kids will only go really hyper when they are sick :-) ), A.Windsor, chopsticks, soultoast, Brian (good idea... in any case, Picard will have another apperance at the end of the story), csifan2000 (thanks so much for your e-mail! Answer will be coming soon!), Chris and Exploded Pen (your cousins do sound scary ;-)... hehheh, "naughty chair", good idea!) for reviewing!

Here's Chapter 7, please r&r... and don't miss the Author's Note at the end of the story (yes, another one;-) )!

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Chapter 7: Babysitter Blues IV - Sweets For My Sweet

The sound of the door swishing open startled Archer out of his sleep. He rolled onto his side, casting a bleary look at his alarm clock, and let out a weary sigh as he saw that it was just after 2 am.

Not again, Archer thought, pushing the covers aside and sitting up. As he saw that Malcolm's bed was empty, he quickly scrambled out of bed, switching on the lamp on his nightstand.

This boy and his fixation with the Armoury is going to be the death of me, he thought. And why does he always have to sneak off in the middle of the night?

Taking a quick glance at Trip who seemed to be fast asleep, Archer pressed the panel beside the door and stepped out into the corridor. At a distance of about thirty feet, he saw a small figure shuffling down the hallway heading towards the turbolift, and let out a deep breath. Well, at least he hadn't gotten very far.

"Malcolm!" he called, and Malcolm jumped, turning around.

"Wha-"

"Yes what," Archer said, walking towards him. "Where do you think you're going?"

Malcolm blinked up at him, a miserable expression on his face. His cheeks were glowing red and his teeth were chattering as he was shivering in the cool air of the corridor. Archer sighed.

"Where do you think you're going?" he repeated. "It's 2 am. You're sick. Get back to bed."

Malcolm scrunched his eyes shut. "I've got a headache," he mumbled, starting off for the turbolift again. Archer caught him by the arm, beginning to feel a little worried.

"Hey, stop there. Where are you going?"

Malcolm gave him a bleary look. "Turbolift."

Imagine that. "And where do you want to go with the turbolift?"

Malcolm was silent for a moment, obviously trying to remember where exactly he'd planned to wander off to. "Phlox," he said then.

"You wanted to go to Dr. Phlox?" Archer inquired, and Malcolm nodded. Archer raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

Malcolm blinked again, apparently beginning to feel slightly irritated at being held up for so long. "I've got a headache," he repeated a little impatiently.

Archer sighed, thinking that a little more input on Malcolm's part would contribute greatly to this conversation. "Well, you can't just run off like that, you know. You should've woken me up."

Malcolm looked at him for another moment, then resumed his slow journey to the turbolift. "No."

Archer stared after him for a moment, then quickly caught up with him, taking him by the arm again. "Now wait a minute. I think you've got quite a fever, you don't seem to be feeling so good. Maybe it would be best if we go back to my quarters and I'll call-"

"No," Malcolm said, feebly trying to pull his arm free from Archer's grip. "I want to go home."

Archer shook his head, feeling a little sorry for Malcolm as he saw just how out of it he seemed to be.

"No, you can't go home now," he said gently. "Let's get you back to bed, and I'll call Phlox. He can give you something for the headache." When Malcolm just stood there, not moving in either direction, Archer took him by the hand. "Now come on," he said, and Malcolm followed him without another word, stumbling along behind him as they walked back to Archer's quarters. As they entered, Archer saw that Trip had woken up as well and was sitting up in bed, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Where've you been?" he asked, blurring the words even more than usual.

"Malcolm's not feeling so well," Archer said, ushering Malcolm over to his mattress and helping him lie down again. "I'm gonna call Phlox. You go back to sleep."

"I don't feel so well, either," Trip said. "I don't think I can go back to sleep."

Sighing inwardly, Archer got back to his feet and pushed the comm button.

"Archer to Phlox."

"Phlox here." Archer heard a whining sound in the background and recognized Hoshi's voice. "Just a minute, Hoshi," Phlox said brightly. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

Archer looked over at Malcolm, who'd buried himself under his blanket and was hardly visible anymore. "Doc, I think you'd better come here and take a look at Malcolm," he said. "Looks like he's gotten worse."

"Well, Captain- no, stop that, Travis, I'll be with you in a minute! Well, Captain, actually I'm a little tied up here right now. The two little ones have got quite a fever, and I don't think it'd be advisable to leave them alone at the moment."

Archer rested his forehead against the wall, suddenly feeling very tired. Now they're sick, too. Great, just great.

"I'll get him down to sickbay," he said. "Archer out."

He saw Trip open his mouth and held up a hand. "I know, I know," he said before Trip could say anything. "You want to come, too."

Walking over to Malcolm's bed, he crouched down beside him and carefully pulled the blanket away.

"Malcolm," he said. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to get up again."

Malcolm turned his head away, squinting his eyes shut and pulling the blanket back up again. "No. Go away."

Gently, Archer took him by the shoulder. "Malcolm. We have to get you down to sickbay. You need to get up now."

"Leave me alone," Archer heard Malcolm's muffled voice from under the covers. "I don't want to go to sickbay."

"But that's where you wanted to go before, remember?" Archer said a little desperately. "So Phlox can give you something for the headache."

Malcolm didn't answer, burying his face in the pillow and covering his ears with his hands. Sighing, Archer took the blanket and pulled it aside, then took Malcolm by the shoulder again, shaking him a little.

"Come on Malcolm," he said, "you have to get up-"

"NO!" Malcolm tried to push him away, groping for his blanket. "I don't want to get up! Leave me alone!" He began to cry. Archer gave up trying to convince Malcolm to get out of bed and simply picked him up, getting to his feet again. For a moment he was afraid Malcolm would start kicking and screaming, but Malcolm just rested his head on his shoulder, crying harder.

"Put me down," he sobbed. "I want to go home."

Patting him on the back, Archer turned back to Trip who was watching them with wide eyes. "Well come on, let's go."

"What's wrong with him?" Trip asked, following him to the door.

"He's sick."

"I'm sick as well," Trip said. As they walked down the corridor towards the turbolift, Trip fell silent for a moment, a considering look on his face. "My brother says if you get over a 106, you die," he said then, looking up at Archer. "You think he's gonna die?"

"No, of course not," Archer said, hoping Malcolm hadn't heard that little remark. "He's going to be just fine."

By the time they arrived in sickbay, Malcolm had almost fallen asleep again. Trip, however, seemed pretty lively, telling some long story about his brother Archer had long since stopped listening to. Glancing around the room, Archer looked for Phlox, and a moment later the doctor emerged from the children's bedroom.

"Ah, Captain," he said. "I just got the little ones settled. Well, seems like someone is feeling a little under the weather, hm?"

"You could say so," Archer said, putting Malcolm down on one of the biobeds. Malcolm blinked and opened his eyes again, then reached up to shield them from the light.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled, and Archer smiled a little. Phlox came up beside him and glanced at the monitor, clucking his tongue.

"Tsktsk, 105.8." Filling one of his hyposprays, he looked at Archer. "I'll give him something to lower the fever, then he should be feeling better in the morning."

Archer nodded, and, sitting down on a biobed, he watched Phlox press the hypospray against Malcolm's neck.

"I've got a headache as well," Trip said, climbing onto the biobed next to Archer. "But I don't need a shot!" he added hastily as Phlox turned around, hypospray still in hand. The doctor pulled out his scanner and ran it over Trip, who was watching him suspiciously.

"I really don't need a shot!" he repeated emphatically, and Phlox nodded.

"I won't give you one," he said, putting his scanner away. "You're stable at 102.6 degrees. Nothing a little sleep won't remedy." He smiled at Trip, who nodded, satisfied.

"But I don't wanna go to bed now. I'm not tired."

"Oh yes, you are," Archer said, becoming aware of a dull throbbing behind his forehead. "It's 2.30 am and you're sick. You are tired."

"No, I'm not," Trip said, dangling his legs. "I don't think I can sleep now. You could read me Harry Potter again!"

"No," Archer said, ignoring Phlox' raised eyebrows. "You are going to go to bed now."

"But I don't wanna- "

"You-are-going-to-bed-now," Archer repeated, and Trip fell silent, sulking.

By now Malcolm was back on his feet again, standing next to Phlox and looking rather dazed.

"Feeling better?" Phlox asked him, and he shook his head.

"No."

Phlox looked at him, tilting his head to one side. "Still feeling bad?"

"No."

Smiling, Phlox took him by the hand and set off for the childrens' bedroom. "Well, let's get you back to bed, hm? Maybe you'll feel a little more communicative in the morning."

Archer half expected him to say "no" again, but Malcolm followed the doctor without another word, looking like a sleep-walker as he trudged over to the bedroom. As Archer gave him a pointed look, Trip slid off the biobed, slowly shuffling over to where the doctor was waiting for him.

"Well then, good night, you two," Phlox said, closing the door behind them as they disappeared into the room. "Sleep well."

Archer leaned back on the biobed, closing his eyes, only just now realizing how tired he was.

Thank God they're back in their own room, he thought. Four sick children to take care of... never mind, at least I'll have my quarters to myself for the rest of the night.

Archer realized that a good night's sleep was just what he needed. His headache had gotten even worse by now, and he felt absolutely beat.

Opening his eyes he noticed Phlox standing beside the bed, watching the monitor above his head with a frown.

"What's up, doc?" he asked wearily, and Phlox raised his eyebrows at him.

"Well, Captain," he said, "it seems like I'll have the nurse's role all to myself the next few days."

"What are you talking about?" Archer asked, sitting up. This was a mistake, though; the quick movement made his head spin, momentarily blurring his vision. Squeezing his eyes shut, Archer waited for the dizzyness to pass, and heard Phlox' voice beside him.

"Take it easy, Captain. You've got quite a fever, a 101.1 degrees. Seems like you caught the kids' flu, hm?" Before Archer could protest, Phlox pushed him back down onto the biobed, picking up the hypospray again. "Just stay put, I'll give you something for the headache and-"

"No no no," Archer said and held up a hand, getting up from the biobed. "I'll just go back to my quarters and get some rest. I'm sure I'll be feeling fine in the morning."

Phlox raised a doubtful eyebrow, but made no further objections. "If you say so, Captain."

Trudging off towards the door, Archer grimaced. Now that the doctor had officially announced that he'd caught that flu, he somehow felt a lot worse than before. With a feeling of dread, he thought of what the next few days might have in store for him and sighed.

They shouldn't call it Starfleet, they should call it the Intergalactic Navy, he thought. Never Again Volunteer Yourself.

-###-

The next morning, however, Archer didn't feel fine at all. Opening his eyes, he blinked, grimacing. The headache was still raging behind his forehead, and there was an awfully vile taste in his mouth, as if something had died on his tongue not too recently. He'd just decided he'd try and go back to sleep when a voice spoke up, making him jump.

"Good morning, Captain Archer."

Archer turned his head, and his eyes widened when he saw T'Pol sitting on a chair next to the bed. He scrambled to a sitting position, squeezing his eyes shut as dizzyness washed over him once again.

"What..." He swallowed, trying to get rid of that roadkill-taste on his tongue. "What are you doing here?"

T'Pol got up from her chair, and Archer had the impression that her cheeks suddenly had an unusual green tinge to them. Picking up a tray that had been sitting on the desk, she walked over to the bed.

"I... I got you some breakfast," she said, a deep green blush creeping up her cheeks. "I hope you like plomeek soup?"

"Erm..." Archer took the tray from her hands, surveying its contents. There was a bowl with some kind of bright green fluid in it, a cup of very strong black coffee and a plate containing of all things pancakes with cream and peanut butter. Archer's stomach gave a small lurch. "Sure," he said quickly. "Thank you."

T'Pol shifted her feet. "I prepared it myself," she said. "I did not add ger'ak, though."

Archer slowly picked up the spoon, giving the bowl another suspicious glance. "What's ger'ak?"

"A Vulcan spice," she said. "I checked the ingredients of plomeek soup in the data base and found that on humans ger'ak has similar effects like a laxative."

"Oh." Archer carefully dipped the spoon into the liquid and a few small black crumbs came bubbling up from the bottom of the bowl. Archer's stomach did another backside-flip.

"You... you're sure it's not in there?" he asked, looking up at T'Pol. She raised an eyebrow.

"Of course, Captain Archer."

Still a little sceptical, Archer dipped the spoon into the soup again and carefully lifted it to his lips. It smelled like a mixture of lavender and sweaty socks. Closing his eyes, he put the spoon into his mouth and almost gasped. The soup was hot. Hot and spicy. Very hot and very spicy. Blinking the tears away, Archer looked back up at T'Pol, who was watching him expectantly.

"I- interesting," he managed, and T'Pol's blush deepened.

"I still have some more when you're finished with that," she said, and Archer swallowed.

"Oh... erm... thank you, but- "

"I prepared about three liters," T'Pol announced proudly. "You can eat as much as you like."

"That's really nice of you," Archer said weakly, stirring the soup again. A few red crumbs surfaced, mixing with the black ones, and Archer knew that he just couldn't eat this. All the same, he lifted another spoonful to his mouth.

"Captain Archer..." T'Pol sat back down on the edge of her chair, blinking at him with big dark eyes. "Is it true that you once freed eighty Suliban prisoners from a detention camp? Without any help from your officers? In less than one hour?"

Coughing, Archer put the spoon back down on the tray and looked at T'Pol again, who was watching him, admiration written all over her features. Both the plomeek soup and the fact that his twelve year old science officer obviously did have a crush on him made Archer feel faintly sick. Well, maybe not so faintly, after all. He swallowed.

"Erm... how do you know that?"

T'Pol blushed again. "I read all the log entries about your missions in the data base. I... I think you are a very brave man. So responsible. And so protective of your crew..."

Archer felt his ears grow hot and cleared his throat. "Umm... T'Pol... I... I'm flattered you would say so, but, you know, on all those mission I did always have a lot of help from my crew-"

"Oh no, Captain Archer, I do not think you have any reason to be so modest. I have noticed that your log entries as well display a certain... humble attitude, and even Surak said that being humble is a sign of greatness." T'Pol looked back at his tray, raising an eyebrow. "Do you not like the ploomek soup?"

Quickly, Archer swallowed another spoonful of the spicy liquid. "No, it's really good," he said, glad to steer the conversation away from the topic of his personal greatness. "Um... what's plomeek, anyway?"

T'Pol folded her hands as she always did when she was about to launch into a lecture. "Plomeek is a spice which is cultivated in the provinces around the Lesser Sea on Vulcan. It is very nutritious, and it has an agreeable flavor that is appreciated by most Vulcans. There are many different ways to prepare plomeek soup. I can give you the recipe if you like."

Archer nodded weakly, and, ignoring his throat and stomach which both felt as if he'd swallowed dishwasher detergent, he put another spoonful of soup into his mouth. "Thanks."

T'Pol opened her mouth, probably to recite the recipe down to every crumb of salt that needed to go into the soup, when the door swished open and Phlox came in. The doctor looked from Archer to T'Pol and raised his eyebrows.

"Now, young lady, I told you not to stay too long. Captain Archer needs to rest."

Archer's head snapped up at these words. "You... you sent her?" he asked incredulously. "Doc..."

"Captain Archer liked my plomeek soup very much," T'Pol announced proudly, blushing again. "I think-"

"That's really nice, T'Pol," Phlox interrupted, "but I do have to ask you to go down to sickbay now and look after the little ones. They're asleep right now, so I'm sure they won't give you any trouble."

T'Pol looked slightly disappointed but got up just the same. "Very well, Dr. Phlox. I shall notify you if there are any problems."

"You do that." Phlox smiled as he watched her leave the room wiggling her hips a little more than usual. Archer leaned back on his pillow, letting out a deep sigh.

"Doctor," he said. "Would you mind taking that... soup away."

Phlox picked up the tray, setting it back down onto Archer's desk. "Well, Captain, how are you feeling this morning?"

"You know, Doc, I think I feel really humble today," Archer said, closing his eyes. "Was that really necessary, sending her up here?"

Phlox smiled, pulling out his med scanner. "She asked me, and I think she would have been really disappointed if I hadn't allowed her to go." As he ran the scanner over Archer, his smile widened. "Ah, your temperature is almost back to normal! With a little rest you should be back on your feet in no time."

"Thank God," Archer sighed. "How are the kids?"

"Better," Phlox said brightly, tucking his scanner away. "Malcolm's temperature is back to a 102, and Trip even ate some breakfast this morning. They're all a little cranky, of course, but that's normal for kids who are recovering from flu."

"Really," Archer said, but all the same he felt relieved. He had been quite worried about Malcolm last night, and hearing that he was feeling better certainly eased his mind. Sitting down on the edge of the desk, Phlox rolled up one of the pancakes and popped it into his mouth.

"You'll be glad to hear, Captain," he mumbled around the mouthful of pancake and peanut butter, "that we'll be reaching our destination in less than twenty-four hours. I checked the navigation computer this morning and found that tomorrow at 0900 hours we'll arrive at the coordinates where Mr. Q said we'll find the Lake of Learning. I do have to say that I am most interested to see what we're going to find there."

"Hopefully my crew," Archer said. "Knowing Q, though, it'll probably be a sign with "Haha, gotcha!" written on it."

Phlox raised his eyebrows. "Now let's not get cynical, Captain," he scolded. "Maybe we'll find a way out of this after all, hm?"

Archer sighed. "I do hope so."

TBC...

Please let us know what you think!

AN: To all our dear readers! Since we got so much feedback of people telling us about their own babysitting experiences or making suggestions what Archer could do, we thought some of you might like to write missing "Babysitter Blues"-scenes, using your own ideas you told us about in your reviews... just thinking of the "naughty chair-thing", Exploded Pen, or the letter to Mr. Jean-Luc Picard... or anything else you might come up with... things your babysitter-kids, little brothers or sisters or own kids did to you and which you always wanted the world to know. Give it an Enterprise-twist and send it to sita_t-eyla_contact@web.de, and we'll add it to the last chapter of the story. And of course we'll forward the reviews, the best thing about posting at ff.net... like someone said, feedback is better than chocolate:-)!

Anyone out there, just give it a try... doesn't have to be long! And to anyone reading this in a couple of months or whatever, you can still send your creations... as long as we'll be walking the face of the earth and posting at ff.net, we'll be posting yours, too!