Awake and Aware
the next story
in the “Waking Up” Series
by Setcheti
Disclaimer:
Author’s Note: This is where the series really goes AU, just to forewarn you. There are references to the previous Waking Up stories, so if you haven’t read the series you might want to now. This story also has some minor spoilers for Canamar and Cogenitor. It’s not really Fix-Fic #8…but it could be.
Jon Archer wasn’t really sure where he was. At one point he thought he felt a hand in his hair, fingers ruffling lightly through it, but the thought set his mind off on another memory-tangent and the outside world of sensations went away again. Jon didn’t even notice. It had been six years ago, and the ruffling fingers had been his. The hair had been Trip’s.
He’d been spelling his friend’s mother and sister, sitting beside the comatose engineer and wondering if three days ago had been the last time he’d get to hear Trip’s voice or see him smile; the still face framed by the harsh white pillow was blank and still, not even a flutter of eyelashes or a twitch of REM to prove there was a person still resident in the silent body on the bed. Trip would wake up the next day, while his sister was sitting with him, but at the time Jon couldn’t have known that and the too-near stupid loss had leached away all his belief in his friend’s recovery. He’d gotten into the habit of playing with Trip’s hair during those long, depressing watches and hadn’t lost it over the years. If Trip was lying down and Jon was nearby, he went right for the hair; it was soft and thick and something about the way it curled and slid around his fingers reassured him. It reassured Trip too, he thought, and so he’d never made an effort to put a stop to it.
Now what had gotten him thinking about that again? Oh yeah, someone had been…no, Trip had been playing with his hair. But why would his friend be doing that? Jon’s hair wasn’t nearly as nice as Trip’s, which was like rough silk that shone with a wonderful play of gold and amber against his skin…
Okay, he was losing it again – he had to stop thinking about Trip and start figuring things out. Someone’s hand in his hair. Ruffling. Had to be Trip, no one else would do that. The sensation came back and logic failed him for a moment in his pure enjoyment of it. Oh yes, that was really nice…with a monumental effort he forced himself to turn slightly into the hand he couldn’t see to make the sensation stop. Well, or pause; Jon certainly hoped he hadn’t stopped it for good. But he had to sort this out, he had a feeling it was important. And he was the captain, he couldn’t just let the important stuff go.
Oh wait, maybe that was it…
A Sound interrupted his train of thought and he irritably tried to get it back. No luck. The Sound was right by his ear…hmm, right by the hand in his hair too. Jon concentrated, and sure enough the Sound became a Voice that went with the hand. Trip’s voice, with that beautiful Southern song in its depths that only came out fully when he was very happy, very drunk, or very upset.
Not that Trip could sing. Trip couldn’t sing worth a damn, hence the harmonica. But his voice, not singing…
It suddenly occurred to Jon that Trip’s voice was saying something. Hmm, now that really could be important. Trip wasn’t just Jon’s friend with nice hair and a beautiful voice (but not for singing!), he was also chief engineer of Jon’s ship. It was a very nice, special ship too, and Trip was very good at taking care of it for him. Sometimes things happened to it anyway, though. There was this scratch on the hull…
Hmm, maybe if he listened to Trip’s voice he’d know what was going on. It took him a minute, but Jon finally managed to concentrate hard enough to make the voice turn into words. It took him a minute more to sort out the words, and once he did he frowned. Trip wasn’t talking about the ship. Trip wanted him to…wake up? And to be okay…yeah, he just said that part again so it must be really important. Trip didn’t usually repeat himself unless it was really important. So that meant it was really important for him, Jon, to be okay.
He was okay, wasn’t he? Oh, the hand was moving again…
No, no, no. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by that again, he had to figure this out. Maybe if he could see Trip. Yeah, that might help. Trip had a very expressive face, it made it very easy for Jon to see what he was thinking. That brought up another problem, though: why couldn’t he see Trip already? He hadn’t actually thought about it until now, but it was pretty dark around here. Was that why he couldn’t see Trip, because it was dark? Oh he didn’t like that, not one little bit. Jon wanted to see Trip, he needed to see Trip so he’d know what was going on. Now how was he going to make this happen?
Well, opening his eyes might work. Jon hadn’t realized they were closed, maybe that was something Trip would need to fix – knowing whether your eyes were open or closed could be important. He’d know for sure in a minute.
Getting his eyes open was harder than making Trip’s voice turn into words, especially since now that the words were there they kept distracting him. Oh wait, that was Trip telling him he knew he could do it. Jon smiled; Trip was so nice. The hand in his hair moved again, but instead of ruffling some more it went down to his cheek and patted. That felt good. Maybe this was Trip’s way of helping him open his eyes? Yep, there they went, whatever Trip had done must have fixed the problem. Jon blinked, and blinked again, and Trip grinned at him. Different words this time: “’Bout time you woke up.”
Jon took a moment to sort that out. Time for what? He looked a question and Trip, of course, answered it immediately. “I was just waitin’ for you to wake up, Jon.”
Oh, okay. And Jon did like it when Trip called him by name, no one else on the ship ever did that, so he smiled back. Hadn’t there been some other reason he wanted to see Trip, though? Other than the fact that he just liked to look at Trip, of course – Trip was very nice to look at. Jon blinked again and looked…but that wasn’t it. It was nice, though, so he kept at it until Trip started to look unhappy and then he stopped. He didn’t want to make Trip unhappy, he wanted Trip to smile at him again. The ruffling thing might be nice too, if he could get it. So he did his best to look like he wanted those things to happen and hoped that would do it.
Hmm, maybe that hadn’t been the right look; all that had happened was Trip’s big blue eyes getting very wide. Not that that wasn’t nice too, but it wasn’t what Jon had wanted. Before he could try again, though, Trip stopped looking at him and looked someplace else. Words again. “Doc, are you sure he’s okay? ‘Cause he sure ain’t actin’ like it.”
Before Jon could sort that out into something that made sense more words came from someplace that wasn’t Trip, along with a noise that sounded like someone walking on a cold floor. “Never fear, the captain is just fine.” A shadow fell across Jon and made him blink again, and he frowned at it. “Hmm, yes, everything looks just as it should. The medication I gave him might be limiting his cognitive functioning right now, though.”
Trip snorted. “You can say that again – just a sayin’, Doc, you don’t have to repeat yourself,” he added quickly. “How long until it wears off?”
“Oh, tomorrow most likely.” A hand that wasn’t Trip’s made Jon look someplace else, and he scowled up at the face that appeared and tried to get back to looking at Trip again. The face – Dr. Phlox’ face, that was it, and looking really strange from this angle – broke into a smile and the hand released him again. “He appears to want you and not me, Mr. Tucker. Perhaps you might try asking him something?”
Jon wasn’t listening to Phlox any more; Trip didn’t look so unhappy now, that was enough for him. And when Trip looked down at him that was even better. “Yeah, I’m happy to see you too,” his friend told him. “I don’t suppose you have anything to say, do you?”
Hmm, a question. What was he supposed to do with that? Oh, of course – words. He could do that, right? Sure he could, it was for Trip and Jon would do anything for Trip. He opened his mouth, closed it and cleared his throat, then opened it again. “What do you want me to say?”
Jon’s eyes widened in surprise after he said it; that had worked really well, a lot better than he’d expected. Trip’s eyes widened too, and then he started to laugh. “That…was just fine, Jon,” he managed. “Tell you what, why don’t you go back to sleep and I’ll come see you again later, okay? I’ve got to do some work today or T’Pol’l have my ass.”
She would? Jon wouldn’t have thought she’d have wanted it; she didn’t notice it all the time like he did. Trip was leaving so she wouldn’t take it, though…wait, Trip was leaving. Jon didn’t want him to leave! He tried the hopeful look again, hoping it would work this time.
Trip’s eyes got wide again, but this time the look on his face was different. It was confused and hopeful and even a little bit scared all at the same time…and then it was sad. Very, very sad, like Trip wanted something very much and knew he couldn’t have it. Who would take something away from Trip?! Jon wouldn’t allow it. But before he could find the words that would say that Trip was talking to him again. His beautiful voice was sad too, so sad Jon wanted to cry. “It’s okay,” Trip was saying, and the hand had come back to his hair just where he wanted it but Jon wasn’t sure he cared anymore. Trip was so sad… “You just…just go back to sleep, and when you wake up again you’ll be feelin’…more like yourself.” But for some reason that didn’t seem to make him happy, even though he did smile. “Go back to sleep, Jon.”
Jon didn’t really want to go back to sleep, but if that was what Trip wanted he’d do it. Anything to make that look go away, that look like Trip wanted very much to cry too. And once Jon closed his eyes again he couldn’t see the look, and then the hand was ruffling his hair again and it felt so good that he had to smile.
He just hoped that meant Trip was smiling too.
Malcolm Reed had had a busy day. It was end-of-period report time, and since he technically oversaw two departments instead of one he had double the paperwork to get through that anyone else did. Their recent encounter with the Enolians hadn’t helped that any either, since he’d technically been second-in-command while it was going on.
Not that Sub Commander T’Pol had acknowledged him being in that position, of course. Malcolm would have been surprised if she had…although it would have been a nice surprise, at that. Not that he tended to expect nice surprises from T’Pol.
In spite of being busy, though, he’d made time to run down to Sickbay and check on the captain. After all they’d been through in the past month, it was rather ironic that Archer had managed to seriously bung himself up while using one of the shuttlepods to check out the outer ring of a spectacularly expanding collapsed star. Luckily there had been another explorer out there doing the same thing who had helped them retrieve the ‘pod, and they’d exchanged diplomatic information with him before he’d gone back to his own ship. Malcolm had to snort, remembering; apparently the Vissians had the same problem with captains who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘security’ that humans did. He’d been almost glad Archer hadn’t been in any condition to actually meet the Vissian captain who had rescued him, because they would almost certainly have ended up interacting with the other crew – and something about the Vissians had set all of Malcolm’s internal alarms off. He had a feeling that if they’d prolonged contact with them it mightn’t have ended well.
He shrugged it off. The Vissians were gone, so hopefully they’d dodged the bullet – this time, at least. Dr. Phlox had said the captain would be fine, and Malcolm had checked himself and confirmed it. Not that he didn’t trust Phlox, he’d just…he’d just wanted to see for himself. Archer had been sleeping when he’d gone in, looking quite well considering…
Malcolm admitted to himself that he’d stood there looking just a bit too long. Jonathan Archer looked younger asleep, and not so forbidding. He was a very attractive man…
It had been at that point that Malcolm had fled Sickbay and thrown himself back into his reports. Thoughts like that were dangerous and he couldn’t afford to indulge them – no matter which superior officer they were about. He could only hope that Phlox hadn’t picked up on anything odd. But speaking of superior officers…
He hadn’t seen Commander Tucker all day, which had been another definite lack. Part of that time, according to Phlox, Trip had been in Sickbay visiting Archer – the captain had even woken up for a bit, after which Trip had left to go back to work. The engineer might bear checking on, at that. If nothing else, Malcolm could ask him how he’d felt about the Vissians.
Trip was puttering around in Main Engineering when Malcolm found him, and the look on his face said something was definitely wrong. “Commander,” Malcolm said by way of announcing himself. “Your reports are all done, I take it?”
“Huh? Oh, hi Mal.” Trip ran one hand through his hair, leaving a streak of grease black against the muted gold. “I was just…”
“Worrying about something?” Malcolm leaned against a console and folded his arms across his chest. “Phlox said the captain was going to be fine, I hear he even woke up while you were there.” One dark eyebrow went up. “Did he say something that concerned you?”
“No.” The answer was too quick, and Trip’s hand went through his hair again as he realized it. “No, he just…it just bugged me to see him out of it like that. He wasn’t actin’ like…himself, you know?”
Malcolm nodded. “Quite well. It wasn’t all that long since our good doctor had me on his so-called ‘happy juice’, if you’ll recall. And I seem to remember you being quite a lot of fun the last time you were on it as well.”
Trip blushed, and Malcolm stopped himself just short of wondering how far down the color was going with a mental kick in the arse and a sharp personal reminder that ever since the minefield incident both Trip and the captain had become very uncomfortable whenever they saw him eating ice cream. He’d wondered more than once if what they were remembering was anything like his own incident with Trip and the shaver or Archer’s with Trip and the pecan pie. God, what a threesome they were…
Now that had been a thought he really shouldn’t have allowed himself to have. All right, back to Trip’s problem before his…fore cannon armed itself. “He’ll be right as rain tomorrow, Trip.”
Trip nodded, but…my God, where had that look come from? It was gone so fast Malcolm almost doubted he’d see it. All right, playtime was over, this was apparently serious. The armory officer unfolded his arms and stood up, closing the distance between himself and the engineer to a degree that probably wasn’t safe, considering what he’d only just been trying not to think about. He wasn’t thinking about it now, though; Trip was his friend first. “Is there something you’d like to…talk about?”
A sharp intake of breath, followed by a reluctant shake of the blond head. “Thanks, Mal, but…no, I’ve just got to get my mind around somethin’.”
“All right. But the offer is open if you change your mind.” Malcolm cocked his head up at his taller friend and then reached out with one hand. Trip’s eyes widened when Malcolm touched his hair, but he didn’t draw back and he looked almost…disappointed? when all the armory officer did was show him the smear of grease he’d just transferred to his own fingers. “You should probably go get this washed out, you know.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Trip backed out of Malcolm’s personal space then, easing himself around one corner of the console. “I’ll…I’ll do that. I’m not gettin’ any work done around here anyway.” He hesitated before ducking out of the room, though. “Did you…did you need somethin’, Mal?”
Malcolm shrugged and pulled up his excuse. “I was just wondering what you’d thought of the Vissians. They gave me rather a bad feeling, I’d wondered if you noticed anything.”
“Now that you mention it, yeah.” Some of the sad – sad?! – look in Trip’s eyes gave way to a thoughtful frown. “There was somethin’ about that captain of theirs, and I could have sworn that one of the times we were in contact with them I saw…well, it was one of them but dressed real plain, not in a uniform, and I think they were orderin’ her around.” He made a face. “Looked sort of like a slave to me. I mean, I can’t be sure…but I didn’t like the way it looked.”
“I don’t blame you.” Malcolm made a face too, at least partially because of what Trip thought he’d seen. “Well, I’m glad to know I wasn’t the only one. Hopefully we won’t encounter them again, and if we do we’ll be prepared.” He wiggled his grease-smudged fingers in the air. “You were going someplace, I believe?”
A small smile, one that didn’t quite banish the shadows residing in the blue eyes. “Yeah. Catch you later, Mal.”
“See you at supper.” Malcolm retreated in the opposite direction, back to the armory to think. The way Trip had been acting, the way he’d responded…the answer hit Malcolm like a bolt of lightning and he groaned, leaning against a torpedo and covering his eyes with one hand, forgetting the grease still on his fingers. Oh good Lord, of course – he’d been absolutely blind not to see it sooner, especially with the way Phlox had been acting around them lately. Malcolm wished he could kick himself for being so stupid, he’d already had the answer. A threesome indeed.