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Between Friends by gammara - Trip and Archer get into a fight (Part III)
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-------------------------------------------------- Archer lay on his bed. His hot, sweaty body stuck to the sheets and Porthos didn’t assume his customary position on his stomach or curled into his side. Instead the dog settled in his bed, afraid to move closer to his master. That wasn’t the only reason Archer wasn’t able to sleep. Staring at the ceiling in the dark of the room, the events of the day plagued his mind. She could toss him in the brig as he awaited – for eons – a court-martial. He’d get busted back to Commander (if not worse) or tossed out of Starfleet and lose any respect he had … even as the “hero of the Expanse.” The moniker wasn’t important, but the dishonor he’d bring to his surname -- his father’s name -- was. She could end their friendship; and there wasn’t right now any reason to maintain it. In all likelihood, she was furious with him – of course in her own Vulcan way. Things between the two would be strenuous for a while; maybe the damage would be irreparable. It’d taken months … maybe even years to develop what they had now. His peevish behavior most likely put an end to it. All the same, he knew it was only a matter of time that he’d hear from T’Pol. He’d wanted to clear the air anyway, and had spent the better part of the day debating whether he should contact her. His brain worked out an apology … a thousand apologies and the words that would accompany it. But, he was afraid during this request for amends, he’d admit something that he was loath to confess. Without saying the words, he closed his eyes. He heard the comm buzz. Throwing off his covers, he ran to the computer to see who it was – even bare-chested as he was. “Archer.” T’Pol visage came across, her eyes lazily blinking and her lips forming a perfect horizontal line across her face. She wore a light robe – an indication to him that she’d been meditating. “Captain, after deliberating about the incident. I think -- ” She’d contacted him no more than five hours after he told her to get out of his sight. “I’d like to take a leave of absence,” he’d interrupted. Everything with the Kredarans was settled. It made sense to volunteer this; he figured it was self-punishment. Slanting her eyebrows up, she asked, “For how long?” “Two weeks.” “Sir ….” Her voice sounded apprehensive and she closed her eyes as she spoke. He couldn’t make out if it was because she didn’t think it was long enough, or because she had reservations about him being gone that long. “Not enough time?” he asked. “No, it’s not that. I’m concerned --” Keeping his eyes on his desk that he was leaning against, he cut her off. “Listen, I haven’t been sleeping too well lately and I’ve been under a lot of stress. I know … I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior ….” She was quiet. And when he dared to look, her expression was placid. “I’m … I’m sorry for the way I acted. I had no right,” he said. She remained composed and quiet. “Well --” She didn’t rescue him either, and instead of giving up, he stammered through occasionally closing his eyes and bowing his head. “Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I hope you know that.” She was silent. Finally, his voice hoarse, he asked, “Trip okay?” An eyebrow poked into the air. “You haven’t contacted him?” “No.” “Perhaps you should.” He was afraid the engineer wouldn’t answer. And, maybe he was reticent those harsh words, or new ones that sprang to their minds, might be said again. He wasn’t just worried his friendship with T’Pol was over, he was concerned his more than 10-year relationship with the sweet-natured Floridian was gone. “Maybe … but not right now,” Archer said. After a long pause, she answered his question. “Yes, he’s fine.” “Good. That’s good.” His head nodded and he felt a small amount of relief crawl into his belly. As he was about to call it a night and tell her she could mention whatever she needed to Starfleet, she spoke up. “I am not going to contact the admiral.” He held his breath and her lip twitched. “I believe we should consider this matter closed.” As he was about to bring up more information, including trying to talk through his two closest friends dating and whether it should really be allowed, she spoke. “I believe Trip should be confined to quarters for a day as well.” He didn’t answer and the two hung on, waiting for the other to speak. Archer was almost certain she would prod about how the fight started or why he’d dragged her relationship up. “I know you didn’t intend to cause me distress,” she said. Ducking his head and leaning forward, his voice was soft. “I never would.” “I know.” “Listen about Trip ….” His eyes remained at his desk, dodging a pair of inquisitive brown eyes leveled at him. “Whatever you want to do ….” “Captain–-“ “Whatever you want to do. I was … hasty when I quoted the regulations.” Without looking, he bobbed his head. “Good night, T’Pol.” As he was about to end the transmission, he heard her voice again. “May I … may I ask what you intend to do for two weeks?” He sighed. With a tenuous voice, he answered. “Get my head together.” His throat tightened and threatened to quit working. Instead of causing a commotion, he produced a smile – which came across sadder than he’d intended – and pressed the button to end their conversation. Maybe he’d spend the next two weeks in his cabin reading. Whatever he did, he bargained to himself that he wouldn’t venture out of his cabin. The suggestion of two weeks off was his voluntary suspension. It’s what I’d give any crewman. As he lay back on his bed, he wondered what would happen with his two senior officers.
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