A/N: As you'll have realized, I rather enjoyed writing that last chapter! There's nothing like getting Team Archer all riled up for action to get the imagination going. And don't worry, there's more of that to come.

I rather enjoyed writing this one as well. I think we all agree that T'Pol (and, sadly, Jon too) treated Trip appallingly in the episode, and that was never addressed, or put right. At least in the world of fanfic, Jon's going to do that, in no uncertain terms.

Oh, and for those of you waiting for Trip to start reacting to what he's really been put through - well, it starts in the next chapter, and carries on from there.

Thanks again, for encouraging me so much through this story!

Violations

Chapter Seven - The First Duty

17:23. Hours yet, before he could even think about sleep.

Yet Jon was exhausted. Running, as Trip would say, on 'Cap'n Power' and… God, he needed that cheering humour now. How badly he needed, right now, to see the mischievously grinning face that could take the very worst of his moods, and lift it back into healing, soothing laughter.

Instead, he had to face T'Pol. Tell her a few home truths. And, he sadly reflected, face the same ones himself.

To her credit, she hadn't needed any order from him to stay behind, or even a less formal request. At the same time, though, he had to remember that scene in sickbay. The hurt and frustration he'd seen on Trip's face, as every part of his character had been trashed in front of his eyes.

Against the doubt of three people who should all have known better, he'd struggled to defend himself:

'Three days. You were only there for three days, and you couldn't restrain yourself.'

'I'm tellin' you, Cap'n, I was a complete gentleman, the entire time.'

'I imagine that's a question of how you would define gentleman.'

'I swear, Cap'n, nothin' happened.'

Jon now winced, both at memory and realization for what had really happened on that damn ship. From Trip's actions, at least - yes, he had remembered to mind his manners. Yes, he had been the perfect gentleman. Just as his mother had raised him, and as Starfleet had further instilled, he'd acted with every part of his personal and professional integrity intact.

But how cruelly had that been exploited, by those he'd agreed so eagerly to help. And how equally unfairly had his character been questioned, by someone who barely knew him. Who'd had no right, whatsoever, to subject him to such complete humiliation.

'One of the first things a diplomat learns is not to stick his fingers where they don't belong.'

Guilt now tugged again at his conscience. Made his head dip, in his own shame. He'd done nothing to intervene then. He'd just stood back, and enjoyed the show. Still bitterly regretting it, he was more than making up for it now.

"From my misjudgements, and your misassumptions, we've both let him down," he said at last, letting his voice leave her in no doubt that her slurs on Trip's character had been grossly unjustified.

"Neither of us have come out of this with much of the honour that you accused him of breaching. I sent him into that situation with no thought for his safety, or his protection. And you've questioned his character, where you had no right or reason to do so. I've known Trip a lot longer than you have, T'Pol. And not even I would have dragged his name through the mud, as you did. If I don't have that right, then you certainly don't. You don't know him nearly well enough yet to have done so. And, I would hope, I shouldn't need to tell you in the future, to never question his integrity, or humiliate him like that again."

A pause then, to let that little tirade sink in, before his conscience made him continue, through thoughts of how they would have to put this behind them, and help Trip as well to move forward.

"The only person who has come through this with any degree of honour is Trip. And when all this is over, we'll both have one hell of a fight on our hands, to regain his trust."

On the calm mask of her face, T'Pol showed little reaction to this softly furious rebuke. Instead, he saw it, in eyes that betrayed her acceptance of it. And he heard it, too, through the tone of her voice.

"You are right, Captain. I've misjudged the Commander's character, and insulted his honour. And I will apologize to him."

More used to his chief engineer and science officer at bickering loggerheads, Jon kept tactfully quiet. There was still a long way to go yet, before he'd get to see such a landmark moment. But as a quiet voice made clear to him, there'd be no arguments this time. Just the offer of help, that could form the most crucial part of his recovery.

"There are… techniques, Captain… in meditation, which may help him through this… trauma."

To his grateful surprise, Jon found himself smiling back at her, in real appreciation for her support. No, he realized, not just support, or as close to an admission of fault that a Vulcan could make. Sooner than he'd expected, this was part of that landmark moment. A simple gesture of friendship. And anything that could bring Trip through this horrific experience had to be worth taking.

It would be Trip's decision, of course, and he was still a long way off from being able to make it. But if it helped him through this unthinkable ordeal, then… yes, Jon knew it was worth considering.

"Well, when he's ready for that, then… yes. We can certainly suggest it to him," he agreed, part of his smile fading a little, as he realized the long and painfully difficult road that still lay ahead. Again, exhaustion washed over him. Again, he forced it back. His place had to be at Trip's side now.

Still, it was a comfort to know that she would now at least understand why.

"But until then, T'Pol… until we find them, I need to be with him. So… well, you have the conn."

As he'd expected, she'd already answered this request with a calm nod. Then again, he thought dryly, she was used to it.

"I'll advise you as soon as we find them, Captain. Until we do, I'll see that you are not disturbed."

Oh, he didn't doubt that for a minute. And, he thought through a privately wry smile, God help anyone who dared to try.

He was still smiling when, after quickly checking on Porthos, he then returned to Trip's quarters. To his relief, he was still sleeping, and looking rather better than he'd done before. Curled into a snug huddle of bedclothes, he was - yes. Yes, safe in his dreams, he was actually smiling.

Phlox looked happier too, as he moved away from his side, and quietly reported on his progress.

"His fever's come down, Captain. Now we just need to let him sleep. Let his system recover."

Reminded again of what his system was having to recover from, the doctor then frowned. Although he'd never faced this situation before, the needs of his patient still came naturally easily to him. Even if he knew his advice was so obvious that it wasn't needed, duty compelled him to offer it anyway.

"And in the circumstances, I'd suggest he stays here, in familiar surroundings, where he feels safe and unthreatened."

From where he'd now stationed himself at Trip's shoulder, Jon nodded in still distracted agreement – confirming what his CMO already knew, in an observation that brought a proud smile back to the Denobulan's face. While not in any physical danger, his patient would still need monitoring through the coming night. He'd need the presence of someone who he trusted, completely, to offer him comfort.

He was all ready to volunteer himself, of course, but… well, in hindsight, he should have known better. Where you had a sick or injured Trip Tucker, you'd know his Captain would never be far from his side. In the long and difficult days to come, Phlox knew he'd need that support, more than ever before.

But for now, he lay in a deep, healing sleep. Oblivious to the friend who watched so anxiously and protectively over him. As Phlox also observed, his Captain was oblivious to his presence too, and his next words of advice.

"Keep him comfortable, Captain, and warm, but not so much as to smother him," he said gently – that last part perfectly timed as Jon started to drape another blanket around Trip's shoulders. A mumbled protest, and fretful wriggle, told him he really didn't need it.

Removing it, Jon conceded defeat through a sheepish grin, and an almost embarrassed admission as he watched Trip settle back to sleep.

I know, Phlox, but… God, after what he's been through, and to see him like this, it's damn hard not to."

It had been damn hard, too, to keep the tiredness and the emotion out of his voice. Comforting reassurance for both came through a firm hand on his shoulder, and the compassion in his CMO's voice.

"Yes, Captain, I know. You're as worried about him as any friend, or the brother I know you see yourself as being to him, would be. But he will be all right. We will get him through this."

A trace of a smile had returned now, to his Captain's face. It silently told him now, that it was the right time for him to leave his patient in the very safest of hands. Smiling too, Phlox packed away his kit, then headed towards the door - pausing there to glance behind him, and a scene of welcome calm.

"I'll be back in the morning. But if his condition changes at all, Captain, call me straight away."

Once he'd gone, Jon glanced back at Trip, grateful for the peace this albeit induced sleep had brought him. Resting his hand on his shoulder, he then settled in for what he hoped would be an equally peaceful night.