A/N: I'm back again, and the absurdity continues. I'm glad I've had such a positive response so far - it gives me a nice warm feeling (it's either that or someone's tried to set fire to me again!) Anyhow... Many, many thanks go to: Orion9 (Thank you!) elbcw (You want more of this? What kind of masochist are you? LOL.) RoaringMice (Awww. Thank you.LOL. Funny you should mention a stick...wait until next chapter.) Exploded Pen (Aww, you'll embarass me. Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it!) The Libran Iniquity (If only I could get into your head - where the hell do you get your ideas from? This fic stems from me having no ideas!) and, of course, JMK758 (I just wanted to be careful with the warning - there are people who would take offence, I'm sure. More 'nonsense' for you in this chapter!) Thank you all!

P.S. I'm having computer problems at the moment. So I'm sorry if my updates aren't as fast as usual. My monitor is dying. I have a one-inch band in the middle of the screen that is in focus and that's what I'm using to see to type! As always, I don't have a beta reader, and I wouldn't know what to feed it if I did, so all mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Chapter Two

"What can we do?" Archer asked, as Hoshi and Trip slowly regained consciousness, and got to their feet, looking abashed.

"There is little we can do," T'Pol shrugged.

"Vulcans shrug?" Trip noted, "That's a human gesture! Continuity error!"

"Shut up, farm boy!" T'Pol shot back.

"You're getting out of character, T'Pol," Archer said, warningly.

"My apologies, captain," she said, settling back down again, "it is…their influence."

"The…Fanfic Writers?" Hoshi said, looking around fearfully, "I'm scared. Someone make love to me. Malcolm?"

"No," said the British accent under the table, "I'm not coming out. I'm fed up of being beaten up, revealing my feelings, and being forced into romantic liaisons with just about anybody. Even Travis, for God's sake. I'm staying under here."

"Lieutenant…" Archer began.

Without warning, the table collapsed, burying Reed. Archer blinked.

"That was a little far fetched, wasn't it?" he said, aloud.

"It could have been worse," Trip shrugged, "cap'n, ah c'n r'm'ber w'n…"

"Stop! Too much accent!" Archer ordered, "I have no idea what you're saying. We need to do something. Suggestions?"

"Find the buggers and blow them up," Reed suggested, crawling out of the wreckage of the table, covered in bloody cutsand bruises.

"Impossible. They exist on a totally different plane of existence," T'Pol responded, "They have influence over us, but we cannot influence them."

"Maybe we could, you know, talk to them?" Hoshi suggested.

"Again, impossible. They are the ones who make us speak," T'Pol informed her, "they can control our every action."

"Then why are we even aware of them? Why can we talk about them like this? What's going on?" Archer's voice rose, "How the hell do we know we're not just being controlled like puppets right now!"

"Because, Captain, even Fanfic Writers take a break now and then," T'Pol responded, "Right now, I believe we are caught in the middle of what is known as an episode of 'Writers Block'. The writers have no idea what to do with us right now, and are trying hard to think of an idea."

"Is there anything we can do? Before they get an idea?"

"We could refuse to co-operate," Trip said, his voice once again vaguely understandable, "just… do nothing."

---

A long moment passed where nothing happened. It was a void that had to be filled. Hoshi let out a scream, and leapt at T'Pol.

"I love you! I've always loved you!"

"Hey! I saw her first!" Trip lunged forwards to intercept the love-crazed linguist.

"Don't hurt Hoshi!" Malcolm swung a fist at the engineer.

"Hey! Nobody hits my best buddy!" Archer protested.

"Stop this at once!" T'Pol snapped.

The effect was instantaneous and cringingly cheesy. Archer had Reed held by the collar, one fist raised to strike, Trip had a broken bottle in one hand, poised to bring it down on Archer's head, and Hoshi was seductively tied to a chair. Immediately, Archer let go.

"How did that happen?" he asked, amazed.

"Could someone untie me, please?" Hoshi asked, batting her eyelids, "or not, if you prefer…?"

"I believe that was a random plot occurrence," T'Pol said, regaining her composure, as everyone ignored Hoshi, "the Fanfic Writers are obviously stuck for ideas."

"We need to get out of here," Archer said, looking around the situation room.

"Negative, captain. This part of the bridge is extremely boring, and nothing can possibly happen here," explained T'Pol, who was rapidly becoming convinced that her only role was to keep explaining things, and to be ogled by Trip, "should we go onto the main part of the bridge, undoubtedly we would be attacked by hostile aliens and a story would begin, we would loose ourselves in the plot, and not realise what was happening to us."

"This is…" Archer shook his head, obviously stuck for words to describe the situation, "wrong, on so many levels…"

"Agreed," said T'Pol, dryly.

"Well, ah'm not gonna jest sit here an' leddit happen!" Trip said, indignantly, "C'mon out! Show yerselves!"

"Well, at least there was something resembling an accent there," Archer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "T'Pol, what can we do?"

"We must find a way to let the Writers know that we will not cooperate with them," T'Pol said, firmly, "we must…we must…we must arrange my marriage to Trip as soon as possible…"

"T'Pol! Snap out of it!" Archer ordered.

She blinked, and shook her head.

"Sorry, Captain," she said, looking vaguely surprised, "the Writers are breaking down my emotional control."

"This is wandering from the point," Reed spoke up, flinching automatically.

Nothing happened. He swallowed, nervously.

"I have a suggestion…" he continued.

Suddenly, a transporter beam activated next to him, and an alien appeared; your usual type – funny skin, no hair, evil eyes, big gun – carrying a bucket of water, which it used to drench Reed, before beaming out again.

"Okay!" Reed shouted, "We get it! I hate water! So would you if you'd been drowned as many times as I have!"

"What was your suggestion?" Archer asked, ignoring his outburst.

"I've forgotten," Reed said, a little sulkily.

"We could try…I dunno…making up our own story?" Trip offered.

"Absolutely not," T'Pol responded, folding her arms, "I have no wish to participate in the fantasies of Commander Tucker."

"Too late," Reed murmured, earning himself a slap across the back of the head from Trip.

"Someone pay attention to me!" Travis shouted, reappearing briefly, "Blow up the ship!"

"That's not a bad idea," Reed's eyes lit up, "big explosion. Cool."

"It would not work," sighed T'Pol, "these people are totally immune to continuity. Character deaths are a common occurrence that can be overlooked for the next story. Destroy the ship and it would merely reappear in the next fic."

---

A/N: I don't know why, but the phrase 'love-crazed linguist' struck me as hilariously funny. Yes, I know you're not supposed to laugh at your own work. No, I'm not drunk, honest. Or stoned. Certifiable, but not drunk or stoned. Unfortunatly.

P.S. For those of you who are wondering about the whole thing with Trip's accent…haven't you noticed how some people try to write his accent, while others write normally? Some do kind of half-and-half…I just tend to ignore it…so yeah, I'm kind of taking the proverbial out of my own work here…