Web Hosting by Netfirms | Free Domain Names by Netfirms

Title: Permanent Damage
Author: Cicero
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Reed is incurably injured. Then the Xindi attack.
Email Address: Cicerothewriter@livejournal.com
Categories: AU, Drama, Angst, Character Death(s)
Feedback notes: Like it? Don't like it? Spelling or Grammar errors? Please let me know.
Warnings: Slash. Implied Major Character Death.
Notes: Written in response to Mareel's lovely "Accepting/Loss" series. It made me wonder what would happen if love wasn't enough. The first of two intended stories.
Disclaimer: I do not own Enterprise. I am writing this for fun, not profit.

During a routine science mission, I was injured while protecting two crewmembers from enemy fire. Their weapons were designed to do less outside damage, but more internal damage. Phlox almost didn't recognize that in time. But he did, and I was treated, though I will never fully recover. My heart was weakened, my lungs sometimes struggled to take in enough oxygen, and my bones ached periodically.

After I was injured, Archer and I decided that I would still be of use to the crew of the Enterprise. Such a vow of faith on Jon's part made me deliriously happy. I was able to stay with my lover and protect my friends on the ship. My damaged body was still able to accurately target torpedoes, to fire a phase pistol, and to accept my lover's hunger.

But when the Xindi attacked Earth, everything changed. Jonathan Archer changed.

I knew something was wrong when he arrived at our apartment. It was late in the evening, and as he staggered in, shoulders down, I took him gently and directed him to sit on the couch. I curled up next to him, and he accepted the comfort for a little while.

"Starfleet has made a decision," Jonathan said suddenly.

"I'm staying?" I asked him.

Jonathan nodded. "This mission must not fail," he said, eyes shifting away from mine. It was then I knew he supported their decision, although his shame was painfully obvious.

"No mission must fail, Jon," I said. Before he could respond, I continued, "I understand what you mean."

Jonathan sighed. "They've sent in a Major Hayes. He'll be in charge of security from now until the end of this mission."

I nodded. There wasn't much else to say. "What will I be doing?"

"They want you here for research and development. You've got an excellent mind and loads of experience." Jonathan Archer looked into my eyes, and in that moment, I saw his love for me instead of the dull horror of genocide. "You are brilliant," he said.

I felt heat in my cheeks, but a certain sense of pride. "I'll help you as much as I can, Jon."



Enterprise left for the Expanse. Jonathan decided that the mission was too dangerous for Porthos as well, and so he was left behind with me. I was worried that Jonathan would be left without any companion at all, but he was adamant about this. Porthos would remain.

We were fine company for each other, moping around the apartment, sleeping with an old shirt of Jonathan's, waiting anxiously for Jon's voice over the comm. Porthos' tail would wag whenever I played one of Jonathan's messages, uncaring that it was a repeat of a previous message. I had to do that more often as Jonathan's messages became fewer and fewer.

I continued my work as a weapons engineer, but I found my attention turning less to killing and more to protecting. While those around me tended to burn with vengeance, I kept to my own projects and eventually earned myself a promotion to Lieutenant Commander. I sent a letter to Jon, but never received a response. It took a few months before I found out why.

The captain of the Enterprise was dead, having led the offense against the Xindi's weapon.



I left Starfleet. There was no longer a reason for me to stay. Jonathan was no longer coming back.

I wandered for a bit, sharing my travels with Porthos. The little dog still had not accepted that his master would not return although he did not seem to mind my authority at all. I found myself doting even more on the dog, and I feared the day when he would no longer be by my side.

Earth held too many memories. Space held too many memories. However, Earth was full of the bad memories: my father, my early years, Jonathan's death. There was no real choice. Once again I left Earth, this time as a civilian. My recompense and retirement pay would hold me in good terms until I would no longer need it.

We spent some time traveling until I found a peaceful planet, controlled by the Vulcans, enough like Earth for us to be comfortable, but alien enough for me to remember where we were, if that makes any sense. I settled on the beach. The sand was light green, the water tinted pink. My aquaphobia was assuaged by the memories connected with Jonathan and his love of the water. There had been that one instance on a Mishara-class planet when Jon had taken me to the shore and showed me how fun it was to play and make love on the salty sand.

If not happy, Porthos and I were content. My only problem was the lack of medical supplies. Phlox's special pills held in remission the alien disease, and without them my body would be slowly eaten away.

Vague news reached me about the Enterprise's triumphant return to Earth, and an idea formed in my head. The joints of my fingers ached as I typed out a message to Commander Tucker. Hopefully he had outlived Jon, and would be happy to take Porthos back to Earth. I gave him coordinates to the planet, my address once he arrived, and instructions to his family members in case they received this in the event of Trip's demise.

The idea that Trip had possibly died, too, hadn't occurred to me before this, and I spent several minutes sobbing at the sudden despair. Porthos cuddled close, and stroking his silky back gave me some measure of comfort. I finished the message, sent it, and now I am waiting for a response.

I can no longer move from this bed. I managed to crawl to the door, and open it. It's now propped open by a stack of books so Porthos can come and go as he pleases. I could never lock him up. It would be too cruel.

I think maybe I have gotten a response. I can see the light on the monitor blinking, but I can barely raise my hand much less sit up and walk. I have eaten in several days, after preparing food because too exhausting and all the food that could be eaten without preparation I either ate or fed to Porthos.

I think I'm going to die before this disease will kill me. I guess I can find some measure of comfort in that.



Back to the tablinum of Cicero.