A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!

CHAPTER 27

They moved Archer, at his request, to his quarters. After what had happened, Hoshi couldn't blame him for wanting to leave sickbay. She hadn't wanted to stay there any longer than necessary herself, and she wasn't the one who had been the target of an assassination attempt. Sickbay was too vulnerable. Anyone in the entire crew could waltz right in without warning.

Reed was still off somewhere, so Hoshi and Mayweather half led, half carried Archer to his cabin. The captain had refused to use a wheelchair or a stretcher. He didn't want the crew see him so incapacitated. As it was, it being late in the ship's day, they didn't see anyone in the short distance from sickbay to his quarters, which was on the same deck as the medical facility.

Hoshi got Archer settled in his bunk. Between the exertion of moving to his cabin and the painkiller she'd gotten from one of the shuttlepod first aid kits kicking in, he was asleep almost immediately. At least his agonizing journey from sickbay hadn't resulted in any blood showing through the bandage on his side.

Next, she paged Cunningham to bring some food. When asked, Mayweather told her that he had eaten and rested. That was good, because she felt like she was about to drop at any moment, and she wanted to have someone with the captain at all times. Of the entire crew, she only trusted Mayweather and Reed to do that. She thought she could rely on Mayweather because he'd unfailingly followed her orders earlier, not to mention that Reed would probably have him shot if anything happened to the captain on his watch.

Trusting Reed was another matter. He still made her uncomfortable, especially after that look he'd given her in sickbay before he'd left with Phlox. But he seemed to be just as concerned with Archer's safety as she was.

T'Pol might also be trustworthy, but for the moment, Hoshi didn't want to widen the circle protecting Archer.

A wet nose nudged her hand as she stood lost in thought after ordering the food. She looked down to smile at Dart. The doberman had been underfoot during the slow walk from sickbay, aware that something was wrong with his master, but he had calmed once they'd brought Archer into the cabin. Dart was the most loyal of creatures, but she had no doubt who would come out the winner in a match between a dog and a phase pistol. It would be unwise to leave Dart to protect Archer by himself.

Mayweather, standing by the door, let Cunningham in when he arrived bearing a covered tray. After the steward had placed the tray on the table, Hoshi lifted the lids on the various dishes: a cheeseburger and potato chips, salad, and a small thermos of iced tea, along with a bowl of thin soup and crackers, which apparently was the standard fare for invalids on this ship. The aroma that reached her nose sent her salivary glands into overdrive.

Despite her hunger, she looked suspiciously at the food. "Who fixed all this?" she asked.

"I did, ma'am," Cunningham responded quietly. "I always prepare the captain's food."

That probably explained why the food the captain ate, both in his quarters and in his private dining room, was so much better than what was available in the mess hall. Someone who cared about what they were preparing had fixed it. She looked back at the steward, whose pensive attention was on Archer in his bunk.

"Do I need to have you taste everything on this tray?" she asked Cunningham sharply.

He turned startled eyes to her. "No, ma'am," he replied, seemingly more hurt than indignant by her implication.

Unrelenting, she asked, "You do know that Doctor Phlox tried to poison the captain?"

Cunningham shook his head. "No, ma'am. Did he really? I heard that the doctor had a session in the agony booth because he'd displeased the captain. That's all, I swear." His brow furrowed in puzzlement, he looked back at the captain. "Why would the doctor want to do that?" he asked.

There was no prevarication or artifice in Cunningham's speech that Hoshi could detect. She thought he was telling the truth. "Make sure no one else touches the food you prepare for the captain. If you have any doubts about any of it, don't use it. That's all for now."

Cunningham dipped his head and headed for the door. It had just slid shut behind him when her stomach let out a growl that made Dart lift his head from his paws where he was lying next to Archer's bed. She looked again at the burger and chips, and decided that she was much too hungry to let the possibility of poison, no matter how remote, deter her. She sat down at the table and took a large bite of the cheeseburger. She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. It tasted even better than it smelled.

The door chime sounded. She hurriedly chewed what was in her mouth and swallowed. "Would you get that, Corporal?" she said to Mayweather.

She was wiping her mouth with a napkin when the door slid open. She couldn't see who was outside, but Mayweather stepped back to allow the person to enter.

Reed walked in. His gaze went immediately to Archer. "How is he?"

"Sleeping," she said.

"I can see that," he said testily. "How's his condition?"

Hoshi clamped her lips shut before she could say something she'd regret. Reed was really starting to tick her off. She was a communications officer and a linguist, not a med professional. She didn't even belong in this universe, but she was expected not only to protect the captain of this ship, but be his doctor as well? After all she'd been through today, the only one who had asked how she was doing had been Mayweather, right after the explosion. He probably had been afraid she'd died and he would get in trouble for having failed in his bodyguard duties, she thought uncharitably.

She wasn't aware that she was glaring angrily at Reed until she saw one of his eyebrows go up in surprise.

"Maybe I should check for myself," he muttered.

Hoshi picked up the cheeseburger, chomped off a large bite, and chewed vigorously, telling herself that she needed to get a grip. It had been a long day, full of tense and dangerous moments. She must have reached her tolerance limit. It was merely chance that Reed had been the one to push her past that limit; he was just being himself. Well, himself in this universe, she amended.

Her spurt of anger cooled somewhat as she realized that reaction to the day was finally setting in. She poured herself a glass of tea from the thermos as Reed pulled the sheet covering Archer back far enough to see the captain's bandaged side.

Actually, Reed wasn't acting like the Reed of this universe, now that she thought about it. He should have been in her face, taking her down a notch, for her behavior toward him. Maybe he wasn't used to someone standing up to him.

Whatever. As soon as he left, she was going to have Mayweather stand guard for a few hours while she had a nervous breakdown in her cabin. Hopefully, she'd get some sleep while she was at it. Now that she was putting some food in her system, she could feel lethargy taking hold.

Reed put the sheet back in place, stood for a long moment looking down at the captain, and turned back toward her. "He seems to be doing as well as can be expected." A small smile crossed his lips. "Most of that's due to your care."

Hoshi, the glass of tea halfway to her mouth, paused to stare incredulously at him. He'd actually complimented her. Studying his face, she saw that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes -- what on her Malcolm's face were called laugh lines but here were no doubt the product of suspicion and distrust -- seemed more pronounced than usual. He was just as tired as she was.

"Um, thanks," she mumbled. She took a long drink of the tea.

He took a few steps closer to her. "Until the captain is out of the woods, we'll need to have someone with him at all times."

"I've already thought of that," she said. "Me, you, Mayweather. Is there anyone else?"

"Cunningham, perhaps. He's loyal to the captain." Reed looked at the food on the tray. "It would probably be better just to let him take care of the captain's food. He uses a small kitchen separate from the main galley." His glance flicked to her. "Unless you'd like to do that.

And now he expects me to be a cook on top of everything else? she wondered. "No, thanks. What about T'Pol?"

"She can't cook," Reed said. He shook his head as if to clear it. "I can't believe I said that. I know you meant guarding the captain. T'Pol's a last resort. She's loyal to the captain because she has to be, not because she wants to be. She might find this--" He glanced to where the captain lie in a drugged sleep. "--too good an opportunity to pass up."

Archer must have some type of hold over T'Pol. Hoshi had spent enough time in this universe not to be surprised by that possibility, but the thought itself jolted her. She didn't like automatically assuming the worst of people. Even more, she didn't like how this universe was changing her.

But then, it wasn't often that she associated with a person who might be a murderer. She still hadn't had a chance to ask Archer about avenging his father's death. Or what kind of deal he'd made with Shran. There was definitely something fishy about the whole Andorian affair.

Her preoccupation was shattered when Reed reached over and snatched a chip from her plate. "You need to get some sleep, luv," he told her before popping the chip into his mouth and chewing. When he swallowed, he turned to Mayweather, "Corporal?"

"I'm good for at least eight hours, sir," the bodyguard said.

"Very good," Reed told him. "Remain on duty until I relieve you."

"You're going to stand guard?" Hoshi asked Reed. "What about your other duties?"

"My duty to Captain Archer takes precedence over everything else." Reed's gray eyes glinted sardonically as he added, "I could also take over Mayweather's bodyguard duties for you when I'm here."

"Oh, get out!" she said, tossing another chip at him; it was the only projectile close at hand. She didn't have enough energy to protest more than that.

With a tired laugh, he deftly caught the chip and left, leaving Hoshi to wonder. Was his comment more of the same from a despicable caricature of a man she'd known and respected for more than four years, or had he merely been teasing her?

With a sigh, she turned back to her meal. She'd worry about that tomorrow, after she got a good night's sleep.

The shouting woke Hoshi. After a moment's disorientation, she realized the noise was coming from Archer's cabin. She'd left the door between their quarters slightly ajar, and she could clearly hear Archer's voice, loud and angry. From the garbled, disjointed shouts, it sounded like someone was attacking him. Thankful that she'd been too tired to change out of her jumpsuit, she tossed back the covers, leaped from her bed, and rushed into his cabin.

Mayweather was holding Archer down on the bunk, trying to dodge the captain's flailing arms. Hoshi's breath caught in her throat. Had she been wrong about the bodyguard? Then she picked up what Mayweather was saying, which was all but drowned out by Archer's raving. He was trying to reassure the captain, who appeared to be in the midst of some demented state.

It didn't help that Dart had clamped onto Mayweather's pant leg and was tugging for all he was worth.

"Dart, Sitzen Sie!" Hoshi commanded.

The dog let go of Mayweather and sat.

Mayweather looked up worriedly at her approach. "He woke up a few minutes ago and started acting like this."

Archer's face was flushed bright red and his eyes were glazed. How much of that was due to his agitation and how much to his injury, she didn't know. He might have developed an infection, which could result in a fever that was causing his current state. What she did know was that something had to be done about it. If he kept thrashing around, he was going to reopen the wound on his side.

"Keep holding him," she told Mayweather as she rushed over to where she'd left the med kit on a shelf. "He's delirious and could hurt himself."

She rifled through the contents of the med kit. Last night, she'd loaded a hypo with more painkiller in case Archer needed it when he woke. After a quick search for another hypo, she found the cartridge she wanted -- a broad-spectrum antibiotic. Snatching up what she needed, she strode back to the bed.

"Whaz that?" Archer slurred out as he spotted the hypos in her hand.

"It will make you feel better," she said, leaning toward him, the antibiotic hypo at the ready.

"No!" he yelled, his eyes so wide that his irises were ringed with white. "You're trying to kill me! You're all trying to kill me."

"I hope that's a sedative," Mayweather said, then grunted as one of Archer's swinging arms connected with the side of his head.

Hoshi almost stamped her foot in frustration. She didn't know if a sedative on top of a painkiller and an antibiotic was a good idea. Or if she gave him a sedative, maybe she could skip the painkiller; he wouldn't know he was in pain if he was unconscious.

The sound of the door chime interrupted her indecision. "Hang on," she told Mayweather and ran to see who was at the door.

T'Pol, as cool and composed as ever, was standing on the other side. "I came to see how the captain is." Her gaze went past Hoshi to the ruckus on the bunk. "Perhaps I should come back later."

"Yes," Hoshi said, then changed her mind. "No! Get in here."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow.

Hoshi didn't have time for niceties. She grabbed T'Pol by the arm, hauled her into the room, and said, "Pinch him."

T'Pol's other eyebrow rose to join the first. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Hoshi said, making a pinching motion with her fingers on her shoulder. "Pinch him. Like Vulcans can do." A thought struck her. "Do Vulcans in this universe use the nerve pinch?"

Comprehension dawned on T'Pol's face. "Surely a sedative would work better."

"I can't get close enough to him with a hypo to give him anything, much less a sedative. If he doesn't calm down, he'll reopen the wound in his side. So go pinch him!"

"As you wish," T'Pol said. She walked over to the bunk, where Archer looked up at her with fever-mad eyes.

"You!" he spat, struggling harder against Mayweather. "I should have known you were behind this."

Ignoring the outburst, T'Pol calmly leaned down, positioned the fingers of her left hand on Archer's shoulder, and gave a squeeze. His eyes immediately rolled up in his head and he ceased struggling, collapsing back onto the bed.

T'Pol straightened and looked at Hoshi. "He is much warmer than is usual for a human, even one who has recently exerted himself."

"He's running a fever," Hoshi said.

As Mayweather moved out the way, Hoshi whipped back the sheet. As she'd feared, the bandage on Archer's side had a large bloody stain. She was going to have to redress the wound. Her nose wrinkled at the putrid smell as she peeled off the bandage. The deep gouge had definitely become infected. That could be the result of some more of Phlox's handiwork, but she didn't think so. She'd been there during the surgery and hadn't seen that he'd done anything to cause it.

Then again, as she had told herself several times in the last twelve hours, she had no formal medical training. She'd do what she knew was safe, and no more. "I'm going to give him an antibiotic and hope that helps. I'll hold off on the painkiller until he wakes again."

T'Pol gazed at the captain, then back at her. "I suggest you also have the sedative handy when he does."

Hoshi heartily agreed.