Extended Hiatus

a sequel to Hiatus, a ST: Enterprise/M7 OW crossover by Setcheti

 

 

Disclaimer:  Don’t own Four corners or the boys from Enterprise, although they seem to be happy here.

 

Jonathan Archer had known for some time that they had a problem.

 

Or rather, that he had a problem; no one else even appeared to be aware that anything was wrong.  Which, of course, was the problem.  Everyone else.  They were all settling in and just as happy as they could be about it.

 

Archer, however, was not happy.  And he didn’t want to be.  This wasn’t their world, not even their universe, and they all certainly weren’t living their own lives – they were the command crew of Earth’s first starship, for God’s sake!  Not a bunch of cowboys and part-time lawmen who belonged in this weird little primitive town.

 

The townspeople had started to reappear the day after the Enterprise crew had arrived, and not a one of them had acted like anything was abnormal at all.  The sheriff had arrived too, a very young man with a ready grin and fast guns, and although he’d seemed to know that they didn’t belong there it hadn’t appeared to bother him any more than it had bothered the gambler’s wife.

 

The gambler’s wife.  Thinking of Malcolm Reed made Archer scowl.  In spite of what the armory officer had said about just enjoying his ‘vacation’ until they went back to Enterprise, he’d settled in like a fencepost sunk in quick-drying cement.  The wife probably had something to do with that, of course; of all of them, Reed was the only one who was married, or even firmly attached.

 

Not for long, though, if things kept going the way they  had been.  Phlox had been having dinner with the widow who owned the dry-goods store on a fairly regular basis lately, as in several nights a week when his responsibilities as the town’s only doctor didn’t have him someplace else.  And Travis had been seeing a lot of Hoshi, who was ostensibly teaching him to speak Spanish.  Archer had expected Trip to be champing at the bit to go back, and for a time he had been, but it hadn’t lasted; after cutting a wide swath through the local bordello, the engineer had gotten bored…and signed up as a hand on a small cattle drive.  The drive came back flush and successful, Trip went back to his ‘soiled doves’…and then he’d ridden out again.  His second successful return, however, saw him paying only a brief visit to the bordello and several longer ones to the saloon.  And return number three ended with him bypassing the bordello entirely with just a wave for the girls there and riding straight up to the saloon.  Where T’Pol had been waiting for him.  Outside, on the boardwalk.  In a new dress.

 

That one had shaken Archer a lot.  He’d had some hope for Trip, but he’d been counting on T’Pol.  The Vulcan sub-commander was still running the saloon, and doing a surprisingly good job of it – maybe, he was starting to think, too good of a job.  She’d been resentful of the whole thing at first, she’d been cold and cutting and oh-so-very Vulcan, but now she wasn’t acting that way any more.  Now she seemed to be taking an interest in the saloon she managed, in the people who lived in the town…and in Trip, who had just left yesterday on another goddamned cattle drive.  Or something like that.  All Archer knew was that his chief engineer had taken his harmonica and hit the trail again with a blue-eyed wink and a mysterious comment about saving up his money.  He was probably planning to marry T’Pol and father a herd of little Tuckers with pointed ears that nobody in town would ever appear to give a second thought to.

 

Except for Archer, of course.  But at the moment he wasn’t even that sure about himself.

 

Because the kid sheriff was leaving town, riding off to become a Ranger or something, and he wanted Jonathan Archer to take over the wearing of his tin star when he left.  And Archer, to his own surprise, was considering it.  He’d tried to talk himself away from the idea, dredging up memories of captaining a spaceship and exploring other planets, but it wasn’t working.  Instead he kept finding his mind turning to the freedom to make decisions that he had as a lawman in this weird little town, the ability to solve problems any way he thought best without anyone being able to tell him to do things differently.

 

Sheriff Archer.  It had a nice ring to it.  Not quite as nice as Captain Archer, but the perks that came with the changed title were starting to look pretty good to him.  Authority, respect, freedom.  A home of his own instead of utilitarian quarters or transitory apartments.  Bad guys to fight who he could actually beat.  Friends he could count on to watch his back, if necessary. 

 

Nieces and nephews with pointed ears.  He had to grin.  The idea of watching Trip’s kids grow up had never occurred to him before, but now it was starting to look appealing.

 

A flash of indigo blue caught his eye, and he saw Malcolm Reed step out onto the boardwalk and light up a thin cigar.  The armory officer turned gambler/lawyer/lawman looked pensive, and Archer suddenly felt guilty for his earlier anger.  Reed had a good life, a happy life; who was Jonathan Archer to say he didn’t deserve that, or shouldn’t want it?  If they stayed here, Reed’s children would grow up with Trip’s, possibly with Phlox’s and Travis’s too as time went on.  They were already settling in, everyone but him seemed to like it in Four Corners…oh hell, who was he kidding?  Archer liked it in Four Corners too, he just hadn’t wanted to admit it.  He’d been acting like an ass.

 

He was sort of proud of himself for being able to admit, even if it was only to himself, that he’d been acting like an ass a good deal of the time even before they’d gotten to Four Corners.

 

Reed didn’t move when Archer approached him, didn’t stop leaning against the railing and straighten up, didn’t try to come to attention; in fact, Reed didn’t even look at him.  “Sir,” he acknowledged, blowing out a puff of smoke.  “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

 

Archer took a breath.  “We need to talk about something, Mr. Reed.  Would you care to join me in the saloon?”

 

“Not really, seeing as how I just left that establishment to get some fresh air,” the gambler replied.  He had tensed, though, and he did turn and look Archer in the eye.  “As it so happens, I have something to speak to you about as well.  It has been a pleasure serving with all of you, but I won’t be leaving Four Corners.  I hereby resign my commission, and you can do with it what you like.”

 

Archer had the feeling Reed wanted to tell him exactly what to do with the commission, but the man was too polite – and too proud of his reputation as a gentleman – to do that in public.  The thought made him smile; Reed had always been a gentleman, even before they’d gotten here.  “I’m afraid I can’t accept your resignation, Mr. Reed,” he drawled, leaning against the rail himself.  “You don’t actually work for me, even though you do help out from time to time – which I appreciate, by the way.  But I’ve never formally deputized you, and I don’t see as how I’d have any say over what you do or where you go unless you’re breaking the law.”

 

He really wanted to laugh when Reed almost dropped the cigar, but he didn’t.  It took a moment for the gambler to regain his composure, stubbing out his cigar and tucking it away before pushing back his flat-crowned black hat to assess Archer with keen gray eyes.  “You’ve decided…”

 

“To take over from JD, yeah.”  No need to mention that he’d only decided it a few minutes ago.  Archer smiled again.  “I don’t think anyone’s really all that interested in leaving, to tell the truth.  We have a good thing going here.”

 

“That we do.”  The gray eyes considered Archer a moment more, and then Reed appeared to reach a decision.  “My wife informed me a week ago that we’re to become parents sometime this winter, so at that point returning to Enterprise ceased to be a possibility for me.  I’ve been trying to decide on the best course of action to take ever since.”

 

Archer nodded.  Reed was first and foremost a tactician, no matter what job he was doing; making contingency plans came as naturally to him as breathing.  “I hope you’ll stay here,” he said simply, meaning it.  “We may butt heads sometimes, but you’re a valuable part of this community and I’d hate to lose you.  Have you told anyone else about the coming addition to the Reed clan?”

 

The gambler smiled, coloring up a little.  “Phlox knows, of course, which means Mrs. Potter knows, which means…”

 

“…Everyone in town knew except me, got it.”  Archer grinned back.  He wasn’t upset that they’d kept it from him; a week ago the news that Reed’s wife was pregnant probably would have sent him through the roof.  Hell, yesterday it probably would have sent him through the roof.  Not today, though.  Today he clapped the younger man on the back and said, “Congratulations, Malcolm.  When you’re done getting your air, I’d like to buy you a drink to celebrate.” And then he stepped back off the boardwalk and headed for the jail.  Reed was going to need a few minutes to gather himself, and probably a few more than that to run home to share his good news with his wife, which should give Archer enough time to find the sheriff and tell him he was taking the job.

 

Problem solved.