A/N: Well, after that rather chilling prologue, here we go with the story itself.

As I said in my summary, this is an alternative ending to the episode. It takes place after Trip has had the embryo removed, and returns to Enterprise. But this first chapter features Jon, as he finds out what's really happened to his friend.

I hope you enjoy it - despite its rather disturbing subject - and thanks as always for these first, very encouraging reviews!

Violations

Chapter One - Unthinkable Acts

Jonathan Archer sat in his quarters, staring at the screen in front of him through blank, unseeing eyes. Five full minutes had passed, since Admiral Forrest had ended the call that had torn his world apart. And still he just couldn't move.

Couldn't begin to believe what his longtime friend had told him.

All he could do was sit at his desk, and let the bombshells the Admiral had just dropped on him sink into a horrified mind.

"…just to give you a heads up, Jon, the Vulcan High Command has told us about a potential threat…"

"…a warning from their allies on Mazar… Jon, these are a species you'll really want to avoid…"

"…called the Xyrillians… innocent enough when you first meet them, but a real danger after that…"

"…five cases so far, and one fatality… that's why I've sent this warning as top priority…"

"…so if they ask for help to repair their engines… whatever you do, Jon, make sure you don't…"

Seven minutes now, and Jon dropped his head into his hands, in helpless fury at what he'd just heard. Yes, he'd received this emergency warning, but too late for him to act on it, and… no. Dear God. No.

'...Trip...'

Bile that had been surging up his throat now spilled into his mouth. A tide of it, too much of it to be contained.

'...oh, God... Trip...'

He barely made it into the bathroom, before a tide of physical horror hurled itself into his shower. By the time he'd emptied out his stomach, all of his strength, but not his anger, had also deserted him.

Still shaking from its exertion, still fighting to regain his composure, Jon sat on his bathroom floor – struggling to come to terms with the violation that had been inflicted so cruelly on his closest friend. He'd found it so funny at the time. Years of friendship had given way to crassly insensitive amusement.

In sickbay, he'd discussed him with Phlox as if Trip, sitting right there in front of him, didn't even exist. And for every time in his dining room, where his best friend had sat there, so completely humiliated –

'…you know what happened this mornin'? Ensign Hart pulled out my chair for me!'

– so clearly hurt, and upset, and just all out scared by the situation that he'd had forced upon him –

'…I'm the chief engineer… I spent years earnin' that position… I never had any intention of becomin' a workin' mother…'

– he'd just sat there, shaking with laughter that he'd hid behind his hand, like a sniggering frat boy.

God, even Phlox had done the same. Treated his patient's embarrassment as the sickest kind of joke.

'…you may well be putting those nipples to use before you know it…'

All because he'd sent his chief engineer to an alien ship to help them repair their engines. And instead, they'd -

Again, Jon closed his eyes against a fresh wave of nausea. Whether Trip knew what they were doing to him was irrelevant. No, they'd known. Known exactly what they were doing to him, without his knowledge or his consent, and… Christ, those bastards!

From the extreme of numbing shock, Jon's emotions now swung to their opposite state. Pure, overwhelming rage. His best friend had been near enough raped by some alien species, and what was he doing about it? Finding them? Making them pay? Being there for Trip, at this time when he most needed him?

No, he was sitting here on his butt, and… God, damn it! What the hell was he thinking?

He should be thinking about Trip now. Helping him through the trauma of what he'd been put through. If – no, when – they found those sick SOBs… well, his primal sense of justice would take care of that. More immediately, he had to put Trip first.

Trip's care at that moment lay with Phlox. A quick check that his 'condition' had been safely resolved. Try as he might, Jon couldn't contain a fresh surge of anger on how that 'condition' had come about. Rising to his feet, he strode past the startled Porthos, and almost punched his comm unit into the wall.

"Archer to sickbay."

Even if he couldn't see his anger, Phlox still heard its intensity, shaking its way through his voice. Still not fully used to his Captain's moods, he answered this one with quietly concerned neutrality.

"Yes, Captain?"

Maybe it was the concern in his CMO's voice, or belated realization that he didn't deserve this anger. But Jon felt at least part of it abate now, letting more of it escape through a soft but anxious question.

"Is Trip still with you? Is he... I – I mean, is he all right?"

"With me? No, Captain, I didn't even know he'd returned. Although I do find it odd that he hasn't come to me yet. I understood the shuttle arrived over an hour ago, and... hello? Captain?"

Breaking off in mid sentence, Phlox stared at his comm unit, frowning in both concern and curiosity. The connection had been terminated by a furious curse, then silence that made his frown deepen. He had no idea why his Captain had sounded so upset, so inexplicably angry, for no obvious reason. But he'd already guessed it was serious. Very serious indeed.

And it involved Commander Tucker.

Until he found out what was wrong with his patient, the best thing he could do was to stay put. Still frowning, he then glanced at the field kit that he always had ready for ship-based emergencies. From much more now than finely trained instincts, something was telling him he was about to need it.