In Your Dreams
Cogenitor Fix-Fic #5, by Setcheti
Disclaimer:
Author’s Note: As my friends well know, I had a VIOLENT reaction to Cogenitor and I still have a tendency to refer to it as The
Episode That Shall Not Be Named. Won’t
loose the whole rant here (it would be longer than the fic!),
but suffice it to say just hearing the title is still enough to set me off. And after Archer’s action figure recovered
from my extreme displeasure (because Reed’s action figure got jostled and fell
over on top of him with phase pistol in hand, resulting in a scene of what can
only be described as unparalleled kink), I was driven to try to fix the
problem.
I was, unfortunately, driven to try to fix it five
separate times – partly with input and encouragement from
The first thing Trip noticed was that he felt…heavy. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, more of a weighted-down, ‘I-slept-too-long’ feeling. Maybe even an ‘I’ve-been-sick’ feeling. So hard to concentrate, though, too hard. And the noise wasn’t helping. It was loud and it was right over his head.
It was annoying him. A lot. And he already didn’t feel good, so being annoyed wasn’t something he was all right with. So he groaned in protest and swiped out with one heavy arm in the general direction of the noise…only to have his arm captured by a strong, warm hand and gently pressed down across his chest. A voice joined the noise, then another. It was far too much; he tried to swipe again. “Stop…t’much noise…”
There was an apologetic exclamation, and the noise stopped. Trip slowly pried his eyes open, to be greeted by a blurry vision of his captain’s grinning face. “Welcome back,” the vision said.
The engineer blinked, and blinked again…and then to Archer’s surprise his blue eyes widened with a combination of shock and pain and the biobed’s alarm went off again. “What the…”
Dr. Phlox pushed him aside. “Commander Tucker?!”
But Trip’s eyes had followed Archer, even though he could no longer see him; he was hyperventilating, his breath coming in huge, ineffective gasps, tears beginning to streak down from his eyes. “Didn’t mean ta…sorry, Cap’n…so sorry…know ya can’t forgive…” Another alarm shrilled, the engineer’s face going from red to white as hyperventilation took its toll. “So sorry…Charles…the baby…didn’ mean ta…jus’ wanted ta help…”
He abruptly went limp, and Phlox snatched up a hypospray which he quickly injected into the side of Tucker’s neck before tossing it aside again and scrutinizing the readouts on the panel over the bed. Almost as an afterthought he slapped off the alarm, the fingers of his other hand resting lightly over the engineer’s carotid pulse point. Archer stood frozen with shock behind him, his eyes wide. This was not the awakening he’d been expecting, not at all. Phlox had told him Trip would come out of his comatose state disoriented and maybe a little weak but otherwise fine, but this…this wasn’t fine. This was a long way from fine. “Phlox, what the hell is going on?! You said…”
The Denobulan whirled around, startling him. “I said the commander had incurred no permanent damage from being repeatedly attacked by the Wisp aliens,” he snapped. “I said his collapse was due to the cumulative effects of those attacks, of being knocked about rather thoroughly and of then being gassed nearly to death to force the invading entity to leave his body. And I did say that he would regain consciousness once his mind and body had had some time to recuperate and that he should be fine. But I believe I also mentioned to you on more than one occasion over the past three days that Commander Tucker was in a very strange sort of coma and that his brain was displaying an unusually high level of theta activity.”
Archer waved it off. “You said he was dreaming, so what? You also said that everyone who’d been overtaken by the Wisp was dreaming more than usual. Now tell me what went wrong!”
“You tell me, Captain,” Phlox demanded sternly. “Whatever it was that went wrong between the two of you just prior to this incident, I need to know now. Tell me what you did to him.” He scowled at Archer’s openmouthed look. “If you had not been the instigator, the commander would not have had this sort of reaction to seeing you now – and you would not have been looking quite so guilt-ridden each time you asked me if he was going to be all right. You must have planted a seed in his mind which somewhere during his comatose state germinated into a very poisonous plant. I can’t destroy that plant if I don’t know what it is; is your embarrassment more important than his mental health?”
Archer looked down at his shoes. “No,” he said immediately. “No, of course not. But I…we just had an argument. And yes, it is embarrassing, but I really don’t see how it could be relevant.” He sighed when he saw that the doctor wasn’t going to accept his excuse. “All right. I was upset about what was happening with the Wisp. They’d already attacked Trip twice, and yet he had nothing bad to say about them. Hell, he wanted to go back and he thought everyone else should try it too! I wasn’t getting any help from T’Pol, and when I went to him all he could talk about was some beach he’d been walking on and how it felt to ride with Hopalong Cassidy.”
“So you lost your temper during one of his glowing recollections,” Phlox surmised flatly. “And then what? What did you say, Captain?”
“I lost my temper,” Archer muttered, not looking up. “I told him that his wrongheaded ‘interactions’ with the aliens we kept encountering were going to see this mission cancelled.” He scuffed his boot against the floor; Phlox waited him out, and finally he sighed and shook his head, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I told him…I’d be there when it happened, and I’d make sure he knew just how responsible he was for destroying everything we’d all worked for. I told him we’d just been lucky so far he hadn’t gotten anybody killed…but I knew we couldn’t be lucky forever.”
“I see.” The doctor’s voice dripped ice, cold enough to burn. “Well, then, it appears you created a self-fulfilling prophecy. I would surmise that you carried out on your threat somewhere in Commander Tucker’s subconscious mind while he was comatose. He has a vivid imagination, and that coupled with the after-effects of Wisp possession most likely resulted in a dream ‘experience’ that was extremely detailed and very realistic.” Some of his irritation escaped in a short, sharp sigh. “Did you also, perhaps, somehow lead him to believe that your deeper relationship was at an end?”
Archer’s head snapped up. “I didn’t…” He saw the look in the doctor’s eyes and stopped. And frowned, more at himself than Phlox. “I…might have done that too. I may have mentioned that it was time he stopped getting slapped on the wrist instead of nailed to the wall just because he was,” he swallowed, “fucking the captain.”
“According to my findings on his last few physicals, it was the captain fucking him, not the other way around.” Archer winced and started to protest, but Phlox didn’t give him a chance. “Go…somewhere, anywhere, Captain. Just get out of my Sickbay.” He sounded more tired than angry. “I will contact you when and if you may return.”
The captain was halfway back to his ready room before he realized the doctor had said ‘if’.
Phlox showed up in Archer’s ready room the next morning with his report on Tucker’s condition, still obviously angry and not bothering to hide his disgust. Archer didn’t call him on it, he was still wrestling with his guilt and the doctor’s findings only added to his burden. Severe emotional trauma…passively suicidal…unfit for return to duty. That was what he’d done, with one single fit of temper he’d almost completely destroyed the man he professed to love more than life itself. But in spite of that, surprisingly, Phlox had given him permission to visit Tucker in Sickbay that afternoon. “For his benefit, not your own,” the Denobulan had told him pointedly when Archer had started to cheer up. “The commander is displaying extreme paranoia with regards to his dream-induced delusion, and he seems to believe that I am lying to him for medical and security reasons. I would not allow a confrontation between the two of you if this were not the case.”
Phlox hadn’t really explained what Trip’s ‘delusions’ entailed exactly, although T’Pol had reported that the doctor had requested her to find any possible reference in the Vulcan database regarding a race called the Vissians. She’d been thorough – extremely thorough, even for her, which made Archer wonder just what else Phlox had shared with her about Tucker’s condition that the doctor hadn’t told him – and had turned up nothing. Archer had a copy of her report to Phlox, and the parameters disturbed him. A third sex? Was that what Trip had been talking about a baby for, had he thought he’d interacted with some alien and gotten pregnant again? Or maybe gotten someone else pregnant? They had been talking about consequences…
He stopped himself, a resurgence of guilt putting the brakes on that train of thought. What had happened between he and Trip hadn’t been a talk. And if he wanted to know what exactly these delusions entailed…he was going to have to ask the man who was having them.
Archer walked down to Sickbay at the appointed time, and ran into Malcolm Reed headed the same way for the same purpose. He found himself shamefully relieved to meet the armory officer right then, mainly because he was hoping Phlox wouldn’t light into him again in front of a junior officer. So they walked into Sickbay together, Reed a half step behind him and Archer trying hard to control his nervousness. How was Trip going to react to seeing him? And if they needed to hash out what had happened then maybe Reed being here wasn’t such a good idea after all. But apparently Phlox had told Reed he could visit…
Trip was laying back on his biobed, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, staring at the ceiling. When he heard them come in he sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side; he didn’t look at them, just transferred his staring to the floor. “You don’t have to say it,” he told them quietly. “I figured it out when the doc wouldn’t give me my uniform, just these civvies. Am I confined to quarters until we meet up with them, or do we have a brig now?”
“A brig? Good Lord, what sort of dreams have you been having?” Malcolm wanted to know. His laughter died a quick death, however, when the engineer flinched as though Malcolm had slapped him. The armory officer looked to his captain for help…and his frown deepened when he saw Archer biting his lip and looking at the floor; no help there. He moved closer to Trip, who had resumed his own downward stare. “Trip, what the devil are you talking about? We don’t have a brig, the captain won’t let me build one, remember? And why would you be confined to quarters?”
Tucker looked up at him again, blue eyes filled with pained disbelief and the distinct shine of tears. “Why are you here to ‘escort’ me out of Sickbay?” he countered, sniffing. “I’m glad you didn’t…didn’t bring restraints, though, don’t think I could’ve taken bein’ dragged through the ship like that.” His eyes widened suddenly and his face paled. “Are they…are they already here, is that it? Am I goin’ straight to their brig?”
“They? But we haven’t…” Malcolm turned to Archer again, anger beginning to overtake confusion. “Captain, what the bloody hell is going on here?!”
Archer didn’t answer, just shook his head, and Phlox’ displeased voice suddenly startled them all. “Delusions, Mr. Reed,” he said flatly, circling around the silent captain and moving nearer Malcolm and Trip. He was giving the engineer a very sympathetic look. “Our encounter with the Wisp…came at a very bad time for the commander here, and his current view of reality is not the correct one. He believes that we had an encounter with another alien race which ended in disaster due to his interference.”
Tucker flinched and Malcolm shook his head, putting a hand on the other man’s slumped shoulder and frowning even more when he felt him trembling. “But Trip, we haven’t seen anyone since those Wisp aliens took over the ship.” He shook his friend lightly. “Look at me, now, why would I lie?” Blue eyes swung tentatively back up to meet his, and the fear and guilt in them almost choked him. Malcolm grabbed the man’s other shoulder, forcing the engineer to keep facing him. “Trip, this is the first time I’ve seen you conscious since you came to let me out of my quarters five days ago! You released the security lock on my door and then collapsed at my feet, frightened the bloody daylights out of me and you’ve been in Sickbay ever since.”
Trip blinked at him, and then again; the tears that had been threatening started to drip. “There weren’t any,” he swallowed, and the next word came out a whisper, “Vissians?”
Malcolm blinked back. “What’s a Vissian?”
He suddenly had an armful of sobbing engineer. “There are no Vissians, Mr. Reed,” Phlox told him quietly. “But until this moment they were very real to Mr. Tucker.”
A few hours later in his ready room, Archer was still staring out his window and wondering if maybe he was the one who was unfit for duty. He’d been happy when Reed had been able to break through Trip’s delusion, but when he’d tried to approach, needing to touch his lover, intending to take Reed’s place…Phlox had blocked his path.
And evicted him from Sickbay. Again. So here he was.
Reed was still with Tucker, doctor’s orders. And Phlox had just sent him a partial recording of the session they were having, of Trip telling them about the Vissians and what had happened with them. About what that dream Captain Archer had said to him afterwards, and what he’d done.
Oh god, what he’d done. Archer had been sick after hearing it, literally and figuratively, and he still didn’t think he’d be eating dinner tonight. And he’d been even sicker seeing the way Reed jumped right in to comfort Tucker – distant, suspicious, contentious Reed, seeming to know just how to touch, just what to say, just how to hold the engineer to make him smile, to calm him down, to soothe his tears.
And Phlox was watching it all…with a goddamn smile on his face. Archer thumped his desk with a closed fist, for the fifth or sixth time, each time hitting a little harder than the last. He knew the Denobulan was mad at him, disgusted with him even, but that didn’t mean he had the right to decide who was and wasn’t right for…
You could have gone anyway, a little voice whispered accusingly in the back of his mind. You could have gone back to Sickbay, even snuck back in to Sickbay, you should have tried to go in and make things right. And you should have come right out and admitted the truth: Trip was completely blameless in the incident you blamed him for. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t.
“I didn’t,” he whispered to the stars streaking past. He’d been a coward, he’d been embarrassed, he hadn’t wanted to face the accusing, disgusted look on the doctor’s face…he hadn’t wanted to face the fear and shame on Trip’s, knowing that he’d put it there. So, he hadn’t.
And now Malcolm Reed was there. Taking his place. He’d rewound the tape – with the sound off – and watched Reed’s face. Reed cared about Tucker, and not just as a friend. Maybe Reed was even in love with Tucker.
Archer was in love with Tucker too. But he was starting to wonder if that was a good thing, for either of them. Severe emotional trauma…passively suicidal…unfit for return to duty. He should never, ever have gone off on Trip like that, never. But on the flip side, if Trip was so fragile that he couldn’t take one of Jonathan’s outbursts without breaking apart…
Sounds like you’re trying to blame him for your problem. The inner voice sounded disturbingly like Phlox…or maybe like his dad, or his old friend A.G. Robinson. He was starting to hate the sound of it.
He was hating even more that it was right. He was trying to blame his own stupidity on Trip, Trip who’d been taken over three times – violently, against his will – by the Wisp. Trip who had just spent almost three days in a coma. Trip who’d awakened in Sickbay thinking he’d killed an alien and an unborn baby just because he wanted to teach someone to read. Trip who had felt sorry for an intelligent being who was being kept as a virtual slave and wanted to help.
Trip who had loved him, with all his great big generous heart.
And now Malcolm Reed was right there, and Archer wasn’t, couldn’t be…wouldn’t be. He could see the handwriting on the wall, and it said, “Buddy, you had your shot and you blew it. Time to step aside and let a better man clean up your mess.”
Reed. Archer looked at the screen again, where he had it frozen on Reed looking deeply into Tucker’s tear-reddened eyes. Reed would have snuck into Sickbay – hell, Reed would never have been evicted from Sickbay in the first place! Reed wasn’t a coward, far from it. Reed didn’t blame the people he hurt for letting him.
Maybe, just maybe, Reed didn’t hurt people that way at all. Intentionally. Cruelly. Just because he was frustrated and mad and scared and he could. Trip didn’t either, of course. Trip had a hot, quick temper, but it came with a just as fast sincere apology and a fine talent for honest groveling built in and ready to make amends. You didn’t stay mad at Trip, he didn’t let you.
But obviously Trip didn’t realize how effective that gift was, or how honest.
The story the engineer told about the non-existent Vissians
and
And then there was Malcolm Reed’s part: engineer introduces armory officer to alien lady, alien lady seduces armory officer, armory officer shags alien in the armory – under different circumstances the disgusted expression on Reed’s face when he heard that would have been hilarious. And at first glance none of it seemed to make sense because everything else tied in so obviously with the load of crap Archer had dumped on Trip about the Wisp. Malcolm’s role in the whole thing was a lot more subtle, and it wasn’t until Phlox very delicately started to comment on it that Archer had realized what it meant.
It meant Trip had feelings for Reed too. Once he was looking for it, the sexual symbolism alone made Archer want to crawl under a rock, because he knew a lot of it reflected back on the relationship he himself had with the engineer. Had he conditioned the younger man to expect so little from a partner? The dream Reed had also abandoned Tucker in favor of playing with the new aliens, he’d even had sex with one of them in one of the most secure areas of the ship, right next to Trip’s precious engines. More than a simple betrayal, it was a sneering slap in the face – especially considering that the ‘cogenitor’ Trip had been involved with during the whole thing was, by human standards, sexless. And the grateful being had named itself Charles; it had in effect been Trip’s child, a symbol of the commitment he wanted. A child Archer had effectively killed, ‘for the good of the mission’. The fact that Reed wasn’t in any of those parts of the story made it obvious that Trip’s doubts about the armory officer didn’t extend that far; Reed’s betrayal had been outside of commitment, Archer’s had come from within and been all the more heinous for it.
How much of what he’d had with Trip had been about the sex? Archer forced himself to honestly evaluate what they’d had, even though it hurt. A lot of it, from his end anyway, had been about Trip being gorgeous, affectionate and easygoing; he had to admit that he’d taken advantage of the younger man’s forgiving nature a lot more than he should have. That whole incident with the clandestine warp engine test…looking back, Archer still couldn’t believe he and A.G. had forgotten about the young engineer for nearly a week, a week Tucker spent in jail thinking his career was over, a week where Forrest was actually putting through the paperwork to drum him out of the service because neither of his ‘accomplices’ had said anything about him and Trip had refused to turn on them. A week Tucker had forgiven him for so readily that Archer had been able to push aside the wrong he’d done to the younger man and almost forget it had happened. But of course, it wasn’t the last time. Replacing Trip with T’Pol, that whole Xyrillian incident, forcing him to go to Zobral’s planet…the list went on. And on, and on. And Tucker had apparently let them all go just as easily as the first one.
This time, Archer didn’t think that was going to happen. Oh, Trip might let it go…but Phlox certainly
wasn’t going to and Reed might not either.
He looked back at the frozen picture on the small screen and
grimaced. No, Reed definitely wouldn’t. And the armory officer wouldn’t take
advantage like Archer had all those years ago, wouldn’t build a relationship on
– how had A.G. put it? – on a case of hero worship and
a nice ass. That had been right before
“God damn you,” Archer whispered. Robinson was a bastard…but then, maybe that’s why he’d been so quick to recognize another one. Passively suicidal… “Dammit!” he shouted, hitting the desk again. “I hate it when he’s right!”
The comm buzzed. “Captain,” came T’Pol’s voice. “Is something the matter?”
Great, just great. Why the hell wasn’t this room soundproofed better? “No, T’Pol,” he responded tiredly. “I was just…going over something. And I don’t want to be disturbed.”
The comm clicked off. Archer sighed. She probably didn’t believe him, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care. Not right now anyway. Once he’d settled in his mind what he was going to do, maybe then…
A sudden realization made him go cold. It wasn’t about what he was going to do, it wasn’t even about what Trip was going to do – it was about what Reed and Phlox were going to do. And he already had a pretty good idea what that was going to be. Activating the tape again, Archer sat and watched numbly as Trip finally reached the end of his story and broke down, saw Phlox give a little go-ahead nod to Reed and then watched Reed pull the sobbing engineer into his arms and hold him comfortingly. Then after a long few moments of soothing, Trip looked up…
…straight into Malcolm’s gray eyes, and both of them froze. If Phlox’ smile had been any bigger it would have touched his ears. And then the triumphantly grinning doctor had reached over and stopped the recording. He could have stopped it a couple of minutes earlier but no, he’d captured the exact moment that would tell Archer who’d won and who’d lost. Apparently the captain wasn’t the only bastard on board.
Archer had a feeling that if the Denobulan ever met A.G. the two of them would get on like a house on fire. He hit the desk one last time, and then reached for the rewind button. Unfortunately, it would be his house.