Gigi Sinclair

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."