A great big thank you to my readers and reviewers.

§ Epilogue §

Archer had donned a fresh uniform – a perfectly fitting, fresh uniform of the right size! – and was on his knees, playfully fighting with Porthos, when his door bell chimed. "Come," he called, leaning back on his heels. "Enough, boy," he told his exuberant pet. The beagle gave a muffled bark, lowered himself on his front paws and wiggled his tail energetically, but Archer disregarded his antics and turned to the door. T'Pol appeared. She took in the scene, and her body language hinted to unease.

"Come in, Subcommander," Archer said cheerfully. He wouldn't let her mood affect him today.

In fact, he wasn't going to let anything tarnish his happiness today. With the help of one of Phlox's miraculous juices, he'd slept the sleep of the just, and now he felt on top of the world. He had had a brief moment of panic when he'd woken, but it had quickly been dispelled, together with the darkness, by the lights he'd turned on.

"Am I interrupting anything?" T'Pol asked, lifting one foot to take a step over the slightly raised threshold.

She entered just enough to let the door close behind her, and stopped. Even from that distance, her oversensitive nose twitched. The scents from a Human and a dog were probably a hellish enough mix to turn a Vulcan's stomach, and Archer felt a twinge of empathy, this being just after breakfast.

"Nothing important," he reassured her. With a last scratch of Porthos's head, he picked himself up and turned to give her his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"I came to see if you had… rested well."

Archer smiled inwardly. Was T'Pol trying to be a bit Human? To show concern? "I slept like a log, thank you."

She blinked.

"Means very well," Archer clarified. "A log, you know? It's dead weight, doesn't move…" He shrugged, and T'Pol's eyebrows did a little dance, as if saying, "Have it your way."

"You are late," she pointed out.

Ah. Archer heaved an inner sigh. He should have known the visit would have a logical reason, more than an emotional one. "Yes. I'm sorry. I was taking it a bit easy, for once. Had breakfast delivered to my quarters. It's all Phlox's fault, really," he quipped with a chuckle. "He must have made sure that what he gave me to make me sleep knocked me off good."

He caught T'Pol's gaze running him up and down, as if to reassure herself he was the right height, and raised an arm for her benefit. "The sleeve fits perfectly," he said. "All's well that ends well."

T'Pol licked her lips. Archer frowned. She seemed… Well, if she weren't Vulcan, he'd say that she was tense.

"I have written my report for the Vulcan High Command," she informed him, latching her hands behind her back.

Archer snorted mirthlessly. "Soval will have the time of his life reading it." As he picked up Porthos's bowl and filled it with the dog's breakfast, he thought about his own report. He wasn't looking forward to it, to reliving his misadventure. "I still have to write mine for Starfleet," he said. But he had promised himself not to let anything bother him today. "Shall we?" he asked, waving an arm towards the door.

Malcolm was having a bad start of the day. You don't say, that bitchy little voice in his mind whispered ironically, suggesting things he'd rather not acknowledge. He slammed a mental door in its face. The Captain was safely back on board, and of the right height, so there really was no reason to feel under the weather.

"Did you sleep well, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm cast a hooded glance up from his breakfast table. The question, the way it had been voiced, implied it was as clear as daylight that he hadn't – slept well. Hoshi was standing there, tray in hand.

"Anyone sitting here?" she went on to enquire, rather perfunctorily.

"No," Malcolm muttered. His gentlemanly self, apparently, was AWOL. Hoshi's eyebrows lifted, underlining his curtness.

"'No' as in you haven't slept well, or 'no' as in no one is sitting here?" she asked in that matter-of-fact way of hers, which made him feel really bad about his manners. A second later, though, she broke into a mischievous smile.

Well, there was no denying the evidence. Malcolm twisted his face into a lopsided grimace. "Both," he said deadpan. "I'm sorry, Ensign. Please." He reached over and pulled out a chair for her.

Silence fell as Hoshi settled down and began to spread jam on her toast with deliberate gestures. Malcolm was happy to quietly watch her. As always, it pleased the eye to see her elegant movements. His mind was carried away to a few days back, when they had sat at this same table, going through the same motions, blessedly unaware of the impending crisis. Hoshi flicked him a couple of glances; then, having finished her task, raised her toast to her mouth and her gaze to him. She looked as if she knew what was going on with him, which was something, considering he didn't know himself – well, sort of.

"The warning buoy we launched will save others from going through our same experience," she said, toast still hovering in front of her mouth. "Aren't you relieved that everything's ended well?" Only then did she take a bite, her dark eyes studying him all the time.

Malcolm heaved a deep breath and blew it out. "Yeah, of course," he said half-heartedly.

Munching on her morsel, Hoshi kept looking at him, obviously waiting for more.

Before Malcolm could speak, though, Trip appeared. He didn't go through the ritual polite enquiry, but plonked himself on a chair, putting his tray on the table with a cheerful, "Morning." His only concession to form, as he spread his napkin with a flourish, was a jocular, "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." When that didn't get him a reply, the wind was taken out of his sails, and he took a closer look at his breakfast companions. "Am I?" he wondered, discomfort suddenly clouding the sun of his cheerfulness. But that – as was usual – didn't last long, and his face subtly reshaped to ill-concealed curiosity.

"No, you're not," Malcolm hurried to say. That's all he needed, for Trip to think there was something going on between him and Hoshi. The man would never let him be. He caught Hoshi's mouth twitch at the corners with amusement. Every time there was a double entendre of that sort, her reaction seemed to be very different from his. Interesting.

"Malcolm was telling me he hasn't slept well," she said, quickly recovering a serious mien.

As she took another bite of toast, her gaze alighted on Malcolm's face again. She appeared to be looking for clues, as if to prove a secret theory she had formed. Malcolm sighed inwardly. Couldn't they leave him well enough alone?

Trip chuckled and attacked his eggs. "Of course. He must've spent the night tossin' and turnin', consumed with jealousy because I was the one who found the way to save the Capt'n."

So now they were both going to play shrink. Malcolm tightened his grip on his cup of tea. Even if there were any truth in Trip's words, which wasn't the case, of course, he was never going to admit it. "That's nonsense," he replied in a carefully unruffled tone. "I even complimented you publicly on your clever idea, Commander."

Trip shot him an I-know-better look, but Hoshi came to the rescue.

"It must have been the tension, then," she suggested with a dismissive shrug. "I never sleep well after I've been wound-up tight. It takes me a while to relax."

"I bet the Captain slept well," Malcolm put in. He hated all this attention on himself. This ought to deflect some of it.

"Hmm…" Hoshi reached for her cup of tea. "I don't know. This adventure was bad enough to give anyone nightmares for a month!"

Blimey. He hadn't even thought of that. Malcolm suppressed a grimace. Not only had he gone on an away mission when he wasn't feeling well, fainted inside his EV suit, and failed to protect his Captain from being turned into a midget, but he was probably also responsible for giving the man psychological problems.

"Yeah," Trip butted in, "nobody will forget it very soon, that's for sure."

Two pairs of eyes converged on him, and all of a sudden Malcolm knew he'd had enough. "Fine," he burst out irritably, "I didn't sleep well because I feel responsible, okay? Now that I've said it, maybe you can stop trying to analyse me."

Hoshi stood up and wiped her mouth. "You have defended the ship and the Captain on many occasions, Malcolm," she said firmly. "You really have nothing to feel bad about. I'm sure there was nothing you could have done, anyway." She picked up her tray. "See you on the Bridge," she said. And left.

Malcolm watched her go with a frown. It was as if she'd been waiting for his admission so she could get up and go, eased of a burden.

"Yeah, don't feel bad."

Malcolm turned back to Trip.

"The important thing is that we got him back, and in the right size," the man was saying with one of his soothing smiles. Suddenly it fell, and he jerked his head sideways. "Of course, there's the question of pride, I understand."

"I told you, I'm glad someone got him back," Malcolm patiently repeated. "I don't mind that it was you."

"Yeah, yeah, but… the chosen one…" Trip added, as if that explained anything.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "What on earth do you mean?" He had half a suspicion he shouldn't ask; Trip definitely looked to be up to something. But it was too late.

"Weeeell… Those guys wanted a Human..."

"Yes, to put him on display in their 'Species of the Quadrant Museum'," Malcolm snorted in disgust. He was digging his own hole, he was sure of it.

Unexpectedly, Trip got up too. Malcolm breathed in relief; but the engineer patted a hand on his shoulder and bent down to whisper, "Obviously, the Capt'n was a better specimen."

Bloody hell. That too. He hadn't thought of it either.

"Thank you," Malcolm hissed. "Just what my self-esteem needed this morning."

Trip let out a good laugh. "Come on," he said. "I could use your help with the transporter. I need to recalibrate it."

"All right," Malcolm sighed. He pushed up. "I suppose I owe you one."

Archer and T'Pol walked side by side in the corridor.

After a while, T'Pol said, "Captain."

Her voice commanded attention, and Archer gave her a sidelong glance.

"I cannot guarantee that Ambassador Soval will not share my report with Admiral Forrest."

Her brown eyes seemed to want to communicate something beyond the words she had spoken. Archer stopped in front of the turbolift. "I know that," he said, pushing the button. "Don't worry, I've got used to that by now." The doors of the lift opened, and he went in. Turning, he saw that T'Pol wasn't making any move to follow. "Aren't you coming to the Bridge?

She inclined her head slightly to one side. "I wish to analyse some data we collected with the help of Doctor Phlox."

"Okay." Before he could push the button, T'Pol resumed her previous train of thought.

"You are aware that my report contains… a rather sensitive issue," she said.

It wasn't a question. Archer gave her a frown of incomprehension.

With characteristic calm, she explained, "I am referring to your breaking Starfleet regulations."

Archer groaned; he hadn't thought about that. Biting his lip, he stepped out of the lift again and cast a furtive looked around, lest anyone hear this conversation. "I guess we can do nothing about it," he said, wincing.

T'Pol blinked and her brown eyes shifted for a brief moment away, before returning to Archer. She pursed her lips. "Lieutenant Reed and Doctor Phlox transported to the planet shortly after you. Thirteen point twenty-three minutes later."

She had left something unspoken, Archer was sure of it, and he began to enjoy this. "Are you suggesting we lie, Subcommander?"

Her eyebrows lifted. "Merely that we omit to specify you transported down without informing your senior staff."

"Hmm." Archer tried to keep his amusement from his green eyes as he feigned pensiveness. "Thirteen point twenty-three minutes is a rather long time. But I suppose those bigwigs sitting behind desks at Starfleet Command don't know that under certain circumstances – dusty planets and the like – the transporter, being a delicate piece of equipment, shouldn't be overloaded by transporting too many people at one time, or too quickly," he reasoned. "We could explain that to them. Soval will undoubtedly criticise my recklessness, but he's never thought very highly of me in the first place, anyway."

There was a pause. They looked at each other.

"Agreed," T'Pol said with the umpteenth lift of her eyebrows. And, with a nod, turned and started towards Sickbay.

As he watched her go, Archer finally let his mouth curve into a smile. He wondered if she "agreed" to the plan or to the fact that Soval thought him an irresponsible jerk with two left feet. But deep down he knew: both. He shook his head, smile growing larger, and pushed the button again, for in the meantime the turbolift had been called.

Oh, yes. He was thoroughly determined to enjoy the day.

Malcolm and Trip left the Mess and started down the corridor.

"So, the Captain is fine?" Malcolm asked. "I mean physically. I heard those creeps were about to turn him into a statue, when you got him back."

"Yeah." Trip blew out a breath. "Just in the nick of time. Phlox says that whatever they used on him lost its power when he regained his full size. He's okay."

"Hmm."

T'Pol appeared, coming from the opposite direction. "Morning, Subcommander," Trip greeted. Malcolm nodded, and she nodded back.

They parted to let her pass. As they resumed walking side by side, Malcolm bit his lip and flicked Trip a concerned look. "We'd better check the transporter thoroughly. I'm glad you asked for my help. Two people work faster than one, and… Well, I'm a friend. You can trust me not to start any rumours."

Trip frowned. A delicious sight.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he enquired, without a clue.

Malcolm let surprise suddenly slacken his face muscles. "Ah, right!" he said, clapping a hand to his forehead. "When the Captain re-materialised, you didn't get a chance to see him from behind."

"Why?"

Trip was definitely puzzled, almost worried, and Malcolm had to call on his discipline not to crack.

"What the hell are you tryin' to say, Malcolm?"

His Southern accent was thick. Malcolm made himself grimace. "A… greenish patch right on the Captain's… I seriously doubt it was there in the first place."

"You're kiddin' me," Trip dismissed, but his voice held a hint of uncertainty.

He had to play this well. Malcolm let his grey eyes go steely. "I'm afraid I'm dead serious, Commander."

They turned a corner, and found themselves face to face with the very man, who was waiting for the turbolift.

"Capt'n," Trip stuttered, bewilderment battling with horror for prime position on his face.

"Sir." Malcolm's inner amusement vanished as he surreptitiously searched Archer's features. To his relief, they didn't seem lined with tiredness. In fact, the man looked quite happy.

"Trip, Malcolm," Archer, indeed, cheerfully greeted them from the height of his metre ninety. "Going to the Bridge?"

"Ah… actually, to the transporter room," Trip sputtered. "Got to recalibrate the thing."

"Are you feeling well?" Archer enquired, studying his Chief Engineer. "You look… troubled."

"Uh – yeah, I mean NO. I'm fine."

Archer frowned; then shrugged and broke into a smile, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes.

They all entered the turbolift.

"F deck is closer, go there first," the Captain said.

Moments later they were there.

"See you later," Archer said, as Trip and Malcolm exited.

"Aye, Sir," Malcolm replied for both of them, for Trip seemed to have lost his tongue.

Trip watched their CO disappear behind the lift doors; then turned to Malcolm. "Greenish patch?" he repeated worriedly. "You sure it wasn't a bruise?"

Malcolm shook his head pensively. He looked around, seemingly making sure no one was coming. "Good thing it's in a spot where he won't see it very easily," he said in a low voice.

Trip lowered his gaze to the deckplating. "How the hell…" he wondered.

"You sure you didn't mix in a bit of Vulcan in that sequence?" Malcolm asked.

"What?"

Ah, the sweet revenge! A bit childish perhaps, but the look on Trip's face was well worth it.

And for once it was Malcolm's laughter that echoed down the corridor.

THE END

One last review will make me happy!