The BLTS Archive - Bouncing Back
by Gigi Sinclair (gigitrek@gmail.com

---

Archive: For Kylie Lee at EntStSlash and Anne at BLTS;  anyone else is
fine, just le tme know.

Spoilers: Minor for "The Expanse."

Notes: This was supposed to be an EntStSlash Anniversary Challenge
fic, but I couldn't get the Andorians in.  So that'll have to be
another one.  (Like I need an excuse to write more.)

---

Jonathan Archer was a private man, but not a secretive one.  Anybody
who happened to visit his temporary quarters on Jupiter Station
immediately knew that the two most important men in his life were his
five-month-old beagle and his thirty-three year old boyfriend.

Pictures of Porthos and Trip decorated every surface in Jon's
quarters, and a few of the walls as well.  You couldn't open your eyes
in the tiny room without seeing one or both of them, and Jon liked
that just fine.  He'd been on Jupiter Station for three weeks, he had
another three weeks to go, and every day he was away from them seemed
about twenty-four hours too long.

But it was necessary, he sighed, collapsing onto his narrow bunk.
'Enterprise' was due to ship out in less than three months, and, for
some reason, the admirals didn't think it was enough for the captain
to look at drawings and schematics in his office in San Francisco.
Or, better yet, look at drawings and schematics in the apartment he
shared with his newly appointed chief engineer.  Jon sighed again.
That had been a battle, but at the end of the day, Trip was the best
man for the job, and Starfleet would have been crazy to exclude him
because of his relationship with Jon.  Who was apparently also
considered the best candidate for his job, because Starfleet
had-eventually, after yet another battle-agreed to let him bring his
puppy along, as well.

For now, though, Jon had to content himself with pictures and daily
comms.  It gave him something to look forward to, anyway.

He showered, dried his hair and stared at the few items of civilian
clothing he had brought up with him.  In eight years of friendship and
six years of love, Trip had seen him at his worst, numerous times, but
that didn't stop Jon from making sure he looked good when Trip called.
He was always aware, sometimes acutely, of the age difference between
himself and his lover, and Trip worked with a lot of attractive
younger people, men and women, on a daily basis.  Trip was young
himself, and very-sometimes exhaustively-sexually active.  Jon knew
Trip would never deliberately cheat on him, but when he was away for
prolonged periods, and Trip was surrounded by so many willing
replacements...well, it couldn't hurt, Jon thought, to remind Trip of
what he already had.

By the time the comm sounded, Jon had chosen a button-down shirt and
jeans.  Already grinning in anticipation, Jon switched on the comm.

And, instead of Trip's face, saw only the Starfleet insignia screen
saver.

"Hi, darlin'."  It was Trip's voice.

"What's going on?"

A pause, and Trip replied, a little sheepishly:  "I was trying to
install some upgrades to our system and I kind of...made a mistake.
Nothing I can't fix, don't worry."

Jon wasn't worried, but he was disappointed.  "I can't see you."

"Then look at some of them photos," was Trip's practical answer.  Jon
did that, looking at one of the flower-shaped photo frames, marketed
to adolescent girls, attached to his monitor.  It wasn't the same.

"How's Porthos?"

"He puked up somethin' all over the carpet last night.  I took him to
the vet," Trip continued quickly, before Jon could interrupt.  "And
he's fine, so don't go gettin' yourself all worked up."

"What was it?"

"I don't know, some allergic reaction or something.  He's back to his
usual yippy self now, though, so I wouldn't be too worried."

Jon nodded, then remembered Trip couldn't see him.  "OK."  He trusted
Trip, he reminded himself.  And usually, he did, unquestioningly, but
when it came to Porthos, Trip's laid-back attitude worried him.  "How
are you?"

Trip's voice changed slightly, almost imperceptibly. "I'd be happier
if you were here."

"Me, too."  Jon smiled.  "Only three more weeks."

Trip groaned.  "Still too long.  Hey, guess who Alex and I ran into at
602 last night?"

"Alex?"  Jon tried to sound nonchalant.  "Who's that?"

"You remember, the guy who lived with the sister of that water polo
buddy of yours."  Jon was none the wiser.  "Lieutenant Commander
Menzies."

"Ah."  Now, Jon knew who he was talking about.  And he was less than
thrilled to recall that Lieutenant Commander Alex Menzies was a
six-foot-two-inch, muscular blond from the security division.  "I
didn't realize you were friendly with him."

"Not friendly, really, but he stopped by the office and asked if I
wanted to go for a drink."  Of course he did.  Jon ground his teeth,
not caring if Trip heard him or not.  "Anyway, that's not the point.
A.G. Robinson was there with his latest conquest.  And I don't know
what she sees in him, but it sure ain't his brains.  He didn't
recognize met at all.  Didn't clue in till I told him I was your
fiancé."  Trip laughed.  Jon was concerned about greater things than
A.G. Robinson's memory.

"So Alex knows about us, too, then, right?"

"Yes, Jon."

"Good."  Jon smiled, for once not even caring about Trip's insistent
use of the words 'fiancé' and 'engaged.'

---

Trip had Jon completely.  Jon made sure Trip knew that, but Trip also
knew that marriage wasn't on Jon's agenda.

"It's pointless," he'd told Trip, back when Trip had first brought it
up.  "Marriage doesn't help anything."  By which Jon meant, of course,
that being married hadn't helped his parents.  "I'm not leaving you
anyway, so what does it matter if we're married or not?"

"My family's real important to me," had been Trip's reply.  "You know
that.  Now, I know we ain't never gonna have any kids..." He put up a
hand to stop Jon before he started.  Which was just as well, Jon
thought, because if marriage wasn't on his agenda, children weren't
even in his hemisphere.  "And that's OK.  But I'd really like you to
be a member of my family."

"I am."

"A real member, Jon.  My husband."  It was clearly important to Trip,
and Trip was important to Jon, so Jon said:

"OK.  One day, we'll get married."  Trip had been pleased with that.
Very pleased, Jon recalled, thinking of the passionate sex that had
ensued.  After that, whenever Trip brought up the subject, Jon
repeated his promise of "One day", and Trip had always seemed
satisfied.

Even if, inwardly, Jon cringed when he heard Trip refer to Jon as his
fiancé, and when Trip's mother referred to them as being engaged.  Not
because of disdain for Trip, but because of disdain for the entire
institution of marriage.

---

"Actually," Trip's voice changed again, and, since the comm screen was
useless, Jon looked at the nearest photograph.  It was one of his
favourites, of all three of them, taken by a friend shortly after
they'd acquired Porthos.  "Seeing A.G. again made me think of the last
time we met him."

"Oh, yeah?"  Jon didn't remember it immediately.  There had been a
time when he and A.G. had been pretty close, but then Jon had met
Trip, and he had eclipsed all of Jon's other friends.  Eventually, the
eclipse had extended to Jon's love life, as well.

"Don't you remember?"  Trip's voice turned husky, almost sultry.  Jon
shifted in surprise.  Trip was energetic and very passionate, but he
didn't usually do the sex kitten thing.  Quite the reverse.  Until he
started sleeping with Trip, Jon had never laughed in bed, and he'd
never thought that silliness could be sexy.  "It was at Captain
Jeffries' Christmas party."

"Right."  Now, it was coming back to him.  Jon felt himself blush.

---

Captain Jeffries had given a Christmas party shortly after Jon and
Trip had moved in together.  Like most Starfleet parties, this one was
more political than festive.  Under normal circumstances, Jon wouldn't
have gone, but he and Trip decided to make this their "coming out"
party, the one that would finally force the Starfleet brass to
acknowledge their relationship.  Although Jon knew that he and Trip
could have sex right there on the hors d'oeuvres table and there would
still be people who persisted in calling them "friends" or
"roommates."

One of the people who did acknowledge their relationship was Denise
Carver, an engineer and a captain who knew she would never be given
command of a ship because she was a woman.  She seemed certain that
Jon had given up any chance he might have had of his own command, as
well, and after listening to a long, embittered and rather depressing
rant along those lines, Jon went to refresh his drink and found that
Trip was missing.

Looking for him was the excuse Jon needed to extricate himself from
Captain Carver.  With a polite wave, he left the Jeffries' living
room, searching first the basement, where a group of commanders were
playing air hockey.  Trip wasn't among them, though, so Jon continued
looking.  It was a good five minutes of searching and dodging
conversational eddies before Jon moved back the curtain beside the
Christmas tree and saw Trip outside, lying on his back on the Jeffries
family trampoline.

"What are you doing?"  It was a chilly night, and Jon had left his
jacket in the house.  He wrapped his arms around himself as he crossed
the painstakingly landscaped yard, festively illuminated by red and
green floodlights.

"Looking at the stars."  Trip propped himself up on one elbow, the
trampoline undulating beneath him.  "Want to join me?"

"It'd be better than listening to Denise Carver tell me why I should
have stayed in the closet."  And listening to A.G. Robinson agree with
her.

"You'll get your own ship one day," Trip reassured, confidently and
easily.

"Because I'm that good?"  Jon smiled to show he was joking, although
Trip's unfailing faith in him was one of the main things that kept him
going.

"Because they can pretend they don't know."  It was less than
complimentary, but Jon knew it was true.  Starfleet was an old boys
club, and a lot of the old boys were willfully blind.

Pressing a button to temporarily deactivate the safety field, Jon sat
on the edge of the trampoline.  "Are you nearly ready to go?"

"I was ready three hours ago."  Then, belying his words, Trip reached
over and pulled Jon backwards.

It was a long time since Jon had been on a trampoline.  Off-balance,
he fell over, the trampoline surface dipping, and he ended up on top
of Trip.  As the safety field buzzed back on, Trip laughed and pulled
him closer, the surface rolling beneath them like a centralized
earthquake.  Jon tried to sit up, but Trip held him tightly.

"Trip..." Was all Jon managed to get out, before Trip silenced him
with his tongue.

It was completely inappropriate, of course, but Jon kissed back,
enjoying the familiar feel of Trip beneath him and the unfamiliar
rolling and bouncing sensations.  When he broke away, he was more than
ready to go home and finish what they'd started.  Trip, apparently,
had other ideas.

"I love you," he panted in a tone that didn't sound like someone who
was going to put on his coat, thank Captain and Mrs. Jeffries for a
lovely evening and drive the twenty minutes back to their house before
expressing that love.

"Me, too."  Jon caught the hand that had been running through his
hair, kissing it affectionately.  "Let's go home."  It was worth a
try, anyway.

"Why bother?"  In one swift maneuver, Trip rolled them over until he
was on top, bouncing a little as he positioned himself.

"Trip, there's a house full of people over there."

"The curtains are closed."  He flicked his tongue into Jon's ear and
put a hand on his crotch.

"Trip..." But the protest was half-hearted, and getting less
persuasive with every kiss Trip planted on his face.

"It won't take long, darlin'."

It didn't.  The strange, but admittedly sensuous, feeling of the
trampoline beneath them, the edgy possibility of getting caught, and
the feeling of Trip's hand down his shorts was a treacherous
combination.  Before Jon knew what was happening, he was coming into
Trip's hastily applied mouth.  Just as well.  Jon would have hated to
explain those stains to Captain Jeffries.  As it was, he had never
again been able to look at the picture of Jeffries' three children,
bouncing energetically on the trampoline, that the captain kept in his
office.

---

Smiling at the Starfleet-insignia on his useless Jupiter Station
monitor, Jon said:  "We were crazy back then."

Thousands of miles away, Trip laughed.  "You were terrific, Jon.
Still are."  He hesitated  a moment.  "Marry me?"

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to look directly at
a picture of Trip in one of his Hawaiian shirts, raising a glass of
beer to the camera.  "One day."

"When you get back?"  Trip continued, hopefully.

Jon pretended he hadn't heard, glad, for the first time, that he
couldn't see Trip's face.

---

It had been a long day.  A long week, for that matter.  Jon had barely
had any time to spend with Trip since their premature arrival back on
Earth, not that this was a new development.

Since the 'Enterprise' had launched two years earlier, he and Trip had
been spending progressively less time together.  This wasn't through
any kind of deliberate plan, it was just the way things had worked
out.  Trip was busy with his engines and Jon was busy with everything
else.  They slept together (and more often than not, that was a
literal description of all they had the energy to do) three or four
nights a week, at first, but that soon dwindled to one or two, if they
were lucky.

By the time of their Cogenitor-inspired fight, Trip and Jon hadn't had
sex in three months, although Jon suspected that Trip hadn't been
entirely faithful during that time.  Apart from the-very
suspicious-incident with Kaitaama, Jon knew Trip had developed a
profound friendship with Malcolm Reed, and he often wondered if the
friendship was strictly platonic.

At first, Jon had been pleased to see Trip had made a friend apart
from him.  On Earth, Trip had had his Engineering buddies, but the
only person he regularly spent significant amounts of time with was
Jon.  It was nice, Jon initially thought, to see Trip expanding his
horizons.  Much healthier than clinging to Jon all the time.  It was
only later, when Jon remembered that Trip and Malcolm were both
healthy young men with more free time than Jon had, that he began to
feel uneasy about how close Malcolm was to Trip.

Still, when they arrived back on Earth and Trip told Jon he wanted to
see where Lizzie had died, Jon was glad to have Malcolm around.  As
the captain, Jon's schedule was full of meetings with Forrest and the
Vulcans.  There was no way he could accompany Trip to Florida, and Jon
didn't want Trip to go by himself.  Malcolm was the perfect person to
go with him.  And, when they got back, it was Malcolm who told Jon
just how badly Trip was taking things.

After the Cogenitor incident, and before Jon was kidnapped by the
bounty hunter, he and Trip had had one day together.  They'd gone
hiking in the mountains, they'd made love for the first time in
months, and, for a brief moment, Jon could concentrate on Trip,
instead of the million other things that demanded his attention every
minute of the day.  For one day, Jon had been deluded enough to think
this may mark a change in their relationship, but then they got back
to the ship and reality returned.  With a vengeance.

Jon had been so caught up in disasters, first his own kidnapping and
then the ramifications of the Xindi attack, that he hadn't even
remembered which of Trip's sisters lived in Florida.  Trip hadn't said
anything, but Jon knew he'd been hurt about that lapse of memory.  Jon
wasn't too thrilled about it himself, especially since they'd visited
Trip's older sister in Hawaii just weeks before the launch of
'Enterprise.'

That was nothing, though, compared to what Jon felt when Malcolm
caught him in between meetings and said:  "Forgive me, sir, but I
really think Commander Tucker needs you."  Malcolm detailed the
argument they'd had in the hallway, and Jon knew he had to do
something.

It wasn't until they'd left Earth and were headed for the Delphic
expanse, though, that he got the chance.

Trip was lying in bed with the lights off when Jon arrived at his
quarters.   For the first time in the history of their relationship,
Jon wasn't sure what to say.  So instead, he let himself into the room
and sat on the end of Trip's bed.

"Go away, Captain," was the eventual response from the pile of
blankets.

"I brought you a beer."

"Leave me alone."

"Trip, it's me."  Holding the bottles, Jon moved up the bed until he
was leaning against the headboard.  "Remember?  The guy you've lived
with for eight years.  The guy who loves you.  The guy," he smiled at
the memory.  "You jerked off on Captain Jeffries' trampoline.  You can
tell me anything."

A pause, then Trip pulled down the blankets enough to look at him.
"Don't you have some meetings to get to, Captain?"  He emphasized the
rank, which Jon supposed was fair.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around.  But I'm here now."  He gave Trip
what he hoped was a winning smile.  It clearly left something to be
desired, because Trip immediately started to cry.

Jon held him for what seemed like hours, while he poured it all out.
The grief, the pain, the guilt that he hadn't been able to protect
her.  Eventually, the sobs subsided to hiccups and Trip's breathing
evened out.  When he was certain Trip was asleep, Jon eased himself
out of bed, careful not to disturb Trip, drank both bottles of beer,
and sat at Trip's computer console.

---

Jon wanted to let Trip sleep as long as he liked.  When it got to be
0900, however, and he still wasn't awake, Jon leaned over and kissed
him as gently as possible.  Trip didn't move.  Jon kissed him again,
with a little more vigour, and Trip grunted and rolled over, away from
him.

Abandoning that idea, Jon shook him a little.

"What?"  Trip opened his eyes, automatically searching for the
chronometer.  "Shit."  He sat up, more resigned than panicked.  "I'm
late."

"It's OK," Jon reassured him quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"We've got the day off.  Well, half-day.  Unless there's an
emergency."

Trip narrowed his eyes suspiciously, noticing, apparently for the
first time, Jon's dress uniform.  "What's going on?"

It took a valiant effort, but Jon managed to restrain himself from
grinning too maniacally.  "Surprise meeting.  Hurry up and get
dressed.  In your good uniform."

Jon had already checked the observation lounge and, as T'Pol had
promised in her prompt, efficient reply to last night's message,
everything was prepared.  Hoshi, clutching a box of tissues, and
Phlox, clutching a notepad, were waiting to act as witnesses, while
T'Pol had donned a ceremonial Vulcan robe and had, as she informed
Jon, 'adequately familiarized herself with the principal rituals of
the human marriage tradition.'

Someone, Jon suspected Hoshi, had even fashioned a couple of crepe
paper wedding bells, which hung from the ceiling, and Chef had been up
a considerable portion of the night preparing a two-layered cake with
white icing and hastily turned-out sugar wedding bells on top.  Even
Porthos was there, sitting obediently at Phlox's side, a white crepe
bow around his neck.

Jon couldn't wait to show it all to Trip.  It was what Trip had always
wanted and Jon knew that, if anything could cheer him up, it would be
this.  Jon hadn't completely gotten over his dislike of marriage, but
this wasn't about what Jon wanted.  And, he thought as he led Trip to
the observation lounge, after everything Trip had given him, it was
time Jon gave something back.

Jon would have liked to take Trip's arm, or at least hold his hand, as
they stepped into the lounge, but that would have given it away.
Instead, he entered the room a little ahead of Trip and waited, which
meant he had a perfect view of Trip's face when he saw the observation
lounge for the first time.

It also meant that Jon had a perfect view of Trip's back as he turned
and walked right out again.

It wasn't often that Jon was at a complete loss.  Usually, if he had
no idea what was going on, he still jumped in heartily, acting first
and thinking later.  At the moment, however, he wasn't even sure how
to act.  He stood, gaping, for a good minute, until Phlox said:

"Fascinating, Captain.  While a symbolic pursuit is a part of many
Denobulan wedding ceremonies, I was unaware humans practiced a similar
ritual.  It reminds me of one of my weddings, when Feezal's first
husband mistook me for the postal deliverer when I arrived at his
third wife's home and..." Jon never got to hear the details.  By that
time, he was out the door.

Trip had a minute's head start, but it didn't take Jon long to catch
up with him.  Even when he did, Trip didn't seem inclined to stop
walking, and Jon had to say:  "For God's sake, Trip, I just want to
talk to you," before Trip reluctantly turned to look at him.

While Jon had been, if not willing, at least accepting that the crew
know about their marriage, he didn't want to get divorced in front of
any crewman who happened along.  Jon pulled Trip into an alcove, where
he looked at him, face-to-face, for the first time.

There were tearstains on his cheeks, but Trip didn't look upset.  He
looked angry, so angry that Jon took a half-step backwards before he
said:  "What's wrong?"

"The idea that you can replace my sister."

"What?"

"Or am I supposed to believe that this is a coincidence?  You say no
for eight years, then Lizzie dies and you suddenly decide, hey maybe
marrying Trip wouldn't be so bad after all?"

"I don't want to replace your sister."  Jon felt like he was speaking
to a stranger.  "I thought you'd be happy.  I don't..." He blinked at
Trip, feeling completely lost.  It was, he thought, like the time he'd
spent hours preparing a three-course meal for his father's birthday,
only to have Henry comm him, just as he was putting the finishing
touches on the strawberry shortcake, to say he was going out with his
engineering team and Jon shouldn't wait up.  "I don't understand."

Trip sighed, and his voice changed from angry to sad, which Jon found
even less understandable.  "You never do, Jon."  He walked away and
this time, Jon didn't attempt to follow.  Instead, he went to his
ready room and sat, staring at his wall, wondering what had happened.
Wondering what Trip had meant.  Wondering if he and Trip had just
broken up.

It was a good half-hour before he realized he should tell the wedding
party they wouldn't be needed after all.

---

Later that afternoon, when Jon was attempting to get some real work
done and failing miserably (he had read the same sentence four times
and still couldn't identify the active verb although, in all fairness,
that may have had more to do with Admiral Forrest's writing style than
with Jon's distraction), the door chimed.

"Come in."  Jon steeled himself for T'Pol.  He was preparing the
excuse he was going to use when she asked, in that politely
condescending way of hers, why he hadn't finished his paperwork, when
the door slid open and Trip came in.

"Oh."  Jon stood up, then sat back down again.

"Can I come in?"  Trip asked, staring at the carpet.

"You...you already are," Jon said, then wondered if that was yet
another example of him not understanding, and if Trip would turn
around and walk out again.  Instead, Trip said:

"Thanks," and sat in the free chair.

For a long moment, the only sound was the air circulator, accompanied
by the far-off hum of the engines.  Given the spectacular way in which
he had misinterpreted the last situation, there was no way Jon was
going to be the first to speak now.  Instead he sat and waited.
Finally, Trip said:

"I want to apologize."

"Thank you," Jon replied, politely, when nothing else seemed
forthcoming.  There was another pause, and Trip continued:

"I appreciate what you did.  Gettin' all that together so fast.  Must
have taken some work."

"T'Pol did most of it.  And Chef." And the crepe paper had been all
Hoshi's idea.

"Yeah."  Trip cast his eyes up and awkwardly rubbed the back of his
neck.  "I kinda already apologized to them.  And Phlox and Hoshi."

"Oh."  Jon didn't know what else to say.

"It's just..." Trip moved his hand around to rub at his eyes, and Jon
couldn't take anymore.  He didn't even care if he sounded desperate.

"You don't have to be shy, Trip.  It's me.  You can trust me.  Tell me
what it is."

Trip looked him in the eye and did just that.  "I want to marry you, I
always have, and it kind of hurt to know you only want to marry me
because you feel guilty about what happened to Lizzie."

Jon moved his mouth wordlessly, then remembered it would be easier to
communicate if he spoke.  "That's not why.  Not at all."

"Yeah, it is.  You feel bad that my sister died and you weren't there
for me, and you thought doing this would make it all better."

It was clear from Trip's expression that he honestly believed that was
the truth.  Well, Jon thought, he'd just begged Trip to trust him.
And he had always been a captain who followed his own orders.

"I didn't want to marry you because I saw my parents' marriage fall
apart, and I didn't want that to happen to us.  I thought I could
prevent it by not getting married at all.  But then Lizzie died, and I
realized you can't predict the future.  You've got to live in the
moment."  Sure, residual guilt, and beer, had helped him reach that
conclusion, but that didn't matter.

At the moment, Jon didn't care about marriage, either.  He just wanted
things to go back to the way they were before.  He wanted Trip not to
hate him.  Everything else, he could take or leave.  He looked up from
the blank comm screen to see that Trip had inched his chair a little
closer to the desk.  "And I want to spend as many moments as I can
with you.  I really am sorry, Trip."  Don't leave me.

"Captain."  Trip smiled, and Jon's heart stopped, only to start up
again, erratically, when he added: "Jon," and took Jon's hand on top
of the desk.  "I knew you'd understand."

Jon gaped for a moment, then decided not to question a good thing.  He
never had before.

Instead, Jon smiled.  "Good."   He hesitated and, hoping it wasn't the
stupidest question he'd ever asked (outside of "Hey, who are these
'Suliban' guys, anyway?"), said:  "Do you still...I mean, would you
like to..."

Trip understood, too.  He grinned and squeezed Jon's hand.  "One day."

Jon wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew exactly what he had to
do now.  He pressed the comm.  "Archer to Chef.  Would you mind
sending a steward up with that cake?  My..." He grinned at Trip.  "My
fiancé and I are taking a coffee break."

---

The End