Pixie Dust

Pixie Dust

By evilpinkpen

E-Mail: evilpinkpen@hotmail.com

Genre: um…Angst?

Rating: PG for darkishness

Disclaimer: Enterprise et al. belong to Paramount. I have no money.

A/N: My first attempt. Just a 1 AM ficlet that wouldn’t stop harassing me.

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It was oh-three-hundred when Trip’s nightly wandering finally led him to the Captain’s quarters. Jon didn’t mind. He was still awake, calmly brooding and keeping company with a bottle of scotch. The day had come with disappointments, as most days did in the Expanse. Jon had new regrets to nurse, and new sins. He handed his friend a glass and they talked about the crew, laughing about the epidemic of minor romances and feuds that had overrun the ship, about anything that didn’t hurt. They ran out of topics much sooner than they once had.

So they sat in dim silence, contemplating the amber liquid. Neither drank.

“You ever read any fairy tales, Captain? I mean the real deal, not those Disney distillations.”

Jon barely lifted an eyebrow at the non-sequiter. Trip’s mind processed reality a bit differently than most, or so he’d come to suspect over their long friendship. “No. What about them?”

Trip’s gaze was distant. “Truth be told, purity and goodness were almost never enough. Not nearly. You want to know how all those Prince Charmings and beautiful maidens pulled through?” Jon nodded. “Sheer dumb luck.” His friend’s expression was wry. “Emphasis on the dumb.”

Jon laughed. “Well, that’s encouraging. We may stand a chance after all.”

The answering smile was faint. Trip was as serious as Jon had ever seen him when he said, “Not unless you have a fairy godmother stashed away somewhere, Captain.” He turned the glass he held around and around, long fingers twisting constantly, the liquid scattering light like pixie dust. Jon found himself mesmerized by the lights; by the soft, level voice of the man who suddenly seemed so strange and yet so comforting; and, quite probably, by the three shots he’d already done in. The conversation had certainly taken a turn for the bizarre, but he couldn’t call up the energy to be concerned. This was, after all, what his life had become—down the rabbit hole without a ladder.

“Most of them didn’t, you know.” Trip’s voice was husky with weariness.

Jon tried to drag his vision back into focus. “What?”

“Have fairy godmothers.” Jon knew his expression was blank and cursed himself mentally, but Trip didn’t seem to mind. “Those fairy tale heroes. What’s a poor fool to do when he needs a miracle, but he’s already used up his last wish?”

Jon blinked. Either he was losing his mind, which he often suspected, or this conversation was actually beginning to make sense. If so, he wasn’t sure he liked where it was going. He asked anyway. “What did they do?”

That humorless smile flashed again. “They lied. Cheated, begged, bargained, and stole.” He met Jon’s eyes, finally. “They killed. They betrayed. Themselves, and others.” Jon looked away first. “And they won. And when the kingdom was saved and the princess bedded, I suppose those heroes had to decide for themselves whether their nightmares were worth it.” He paused. “But not before.”

Jon’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “And what do you know about nightmares, Commander?” he said, voice harsh, jaw tense, and inwardly he flinched. He felt it so often now, this fury that he fed with his fears. Fear for his home world, fear for his crew. Fear of himself. And so often his dearest friend managed to stumble right into the storm. It wasn’t fair, to either of them.

But when Trip lifted his own eyes they were filled with exhaustion, yes, but also with a dark intelligence. They held an awareness too sharp to allow either acceptance or bitterness, uncomfortably fusing with a pained and helpless affection. And Jon realized then that he was seeing his friend, for just this moment, without the walls that they had all erected to preserve their sanity in this place. Which was only fair, perhaps, as it seemed that Trip could look right through his. No, the engineer knew his place, precisely, even if he sometimes questioned it.

And occasionally that place was directly between Jonathan and his own demons.

Trip stood, knocking back his drink. “Good night, sir.” He didn’t wish his Captain pleasant dreams; somehow, they both knew it would be inappropriate. He didn’t look back as the door swished closed behind him. He knew he’d said what needed to be said, because someone had to—and on Enterprise, as in the rest of Jonathan’s life, the job had somehow fallen to him.

Jon sat down hard, his anger ebbing in the face of even such insubstantial hope, and he tried not to think about how his friend had known to offer it. He twirled his glass, watching the golden flecks dance against his skin. This place, this mission, were eating away at their souls, even as they struggled to patch them with pixie dust and desperate tenderness. He feared it wouldn’t be enough. But it had bought him one more night, dearly sold.

He left his glass, still full, on the table beside Trip’s empty one and turned off the lights.

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A handful of people have made comments

I liked this very much! I especially, for some reason, loved this line - "And occasionally that place was directly between Jonathan and his own demons".

Thank you for sharing this!

Well written and dark indeed. Let's hope that Archer realizes there are always other solutions and not just taking the road of no return. Good job though, liked the dialog very much between the characters. :)

Very cool. I too liked the directly between Jonathon and his own demons line.

How Trip explained those fairy tales.

I thought for sure with the title you'd let us know that it was T'Pol's Pixie Dust that help the fly on to Never Never land second star on the left.

But I do so like this slightly dark and somber tale.

Well done, well told, well shared,

Tracy-TheEverPresentNaggingCubedOne

Very introspective, and very true. Makes me wish we'd see more of this kind of writing on the show itself, especially when it comes to Trip and Jon.

ok, liked it but i'm confused i dont get the pixie dust metaphore