Earth’s Fall

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Dr. Phlox x GN! Reader

The last episode of Star Trek Enterprise hit me sorta hard, and since Phlox is one of my comfort characters, I thought it only right to work out some of my feelings through him.

⚠️TW⚠️

Spoilers, Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

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You trusted Johnathan Archer with your whole life.

You had followed him to the end of the Earth and farther. You were now willing to go with him to the ends of the universe.

Everything was fine. Completely fine.

You were incredibly important on Enterprise, working closely with T'pol and Hoshi. You were in charge of research, making the Human Database while updating the Vulcan Database.

You would observe each species, take notes, attempt to find out more, and then type your findings into a computer.

You had been working with Hoshi, putting in information about her new telepathic friend you had run into about a week ago. She was telling you all she remembered about his race and how his telepathy worked.

That was until you were called into sickbay.

Considering you were close with T'pol, The Captain, and very close with Phlox, you were often called in when things went amiss.

You were someone for Phlox to bounce ideas and worries off of. You would sit on a medical cot as he paced, talking more so at you than with you.

Not just that. You were his partner. Someone for him to relax and joke with. You often went to movie nights together, talking about the movies in detail afterwards (as T'pol would snap at the both of you for talking during the movie).

When you’d entered, you’d expected something small, a concussion or virus of sorts. You weren’t expecting for your captain to be in the state he was in.

Phlox’s face had been thoughtful, grimly so. Not the usual beautifully thoughtful face. Lips pursed as to the side, eyes downcast but still full of energy.

No, his eyes had been dull, lips more a frown than pursed, eyebrows pulled in.

He had explained the situation, and you had let a curse out under your breath.

He often stayed in the med lab at night, unless he needed to catch a few hours of sleep or you were lonely and were not in favour of sleeping on the medical cots that night.

But that quickly changed.

You would spend nights tiredly drifting off, head in your hands, pj’s on, sitting in your boyfriend’s bed as he paced up and down the room, frantically muttering under his breath.

Hoshi had told you about her hullcinations, Phlox saying they were common on his planet with stress. But most importantly, she told you he mentioned he never really held much in.

You suppose he held in much more than he thought.

He had always been an open book, telling you how he truly felt and what was going on, but he never showed much. He was always so optimistic. If you didn’t ask about his day, he wouldn’t tell you. But asking about his day? What you got from that small question was worth more than gold.

He would give you one of his lop-sided, shy smiles, his eyes bright and bold in contrast. He would describe his day in detail, everything he observed, every worry he had about a crewmate. Everything.

Not anymore.

He was focused on Archer now.

Every waking and sleeping moment spent thinking over his condition, another crewmate’s illness and what it could become, or you.

Despite his worry and panic, he still made time for you.

Holding you at night.

You knew, though.

You knew that whenever he thought you were asleep he would get up and go over to his desk.

He didn’t know you knew he was skipping meals, both of his and his pets. You had begun to feed them most days.

Phlox had always worked well under pressure. But this wasn’t stress, it was the weight of humanity. On only two people’s shoulders, it seemed.

Phlox knew that without Archer, things would look much more grim. He took it on himself and only himself to heal your Captain.

T'pol had taken it upon herself to stop the end of humanity, help Archer, organize the ship, keep everyone in high spirits. It was impossible.

Eventually, she grew tired of the morning meetings they had.

She insisted that she continue them, but you made the point that Archer wouldn’t remember anyways, and it was only logical to take a break.

You had begun to help Archer walk Porthos in the mornings, helping fill him in on the days.

You had gotten him a notebook, writing down what had happened. Everything that was going on. Every time you would get new information, it went into his notebook.

You had a separate notebook with logs of when he had showered, eaten, walked Porthos, gone to the restroom.

You had begun to write reminders on his arm.

You would sit in his quarters for hours on end, letting him help you work.

Anything to help him.

Anything to help the crew.

At night you would go to T'pol’s quarters, talking through the day with her. Her worries, her emotions.

Before bed used to be your favourite time of the day. You would sit in med bay with Phlox and talk to him about anything and everything. You would help him feed the animals.

But now you dreaded it.

Now it was a time for you to realize just how deep of trouble the human race was in.

One day, you broke down.

In the middle of one of you and T'pol’s sessions, things just got to be too much.

T'pol never let you back in her quarters past nine again. Any digging into her emotions would end with her on a different end of the ship.

You had taken on Travis and Hoshi’s issues too.

At one point you asked chef if he could synthesize some alcohol. Cheap wine would do.

He admitted he had already made some for himself.

You hadn’t shown up in Phlox’s quarters that night.

You were too busy watching over a hammered Travis Mayweather and Hoshi Sato.

Phlox questioned your absence. You blew off the question.

Malcolm always seemed sad, forlorn, mopey, even. But this wasn’t him.

He was depressed. Either not interested in weapons and fighting, or extraordinarily violent.

Trip, having already lost his sister, was in the best shape, as surprising as it was. He was determined. Each mistake, each death, made him more determined.

You found it dangerous.

He called it hope.

Dead bodies of crew members stacked up, and so did the doubt.

Against Archer’s wishes, you stopped telling him about what was going on. You took the notebook once. And then you shoved it in the back of a drawer.

Some days you would tell him that you had won, that you were going towards a planet you had , in reality, made up.

It was cruel, and you knew that. But to see how proud he was, to receive that hug and the childish glee that came with it, it was intoxicating. You wanted him to be happy too.

But he wouldn’t be happy as long as he was sick.

At least you could try.

One day, he asked to be taken up on the bridge. Shown this mystery planet.

When you refused, he knew something was wrong.

You knew it was coming. You knew he wouldn’t remember it after.

It still hurt.

Him yelling at you, as you started blankly at his bed, legs crossed and hands in fists.

You didn’t want to hurt anyone. You just wanted a moment of happiness.

You made the grim realization that I this time and place, you were happy or everyone else was.

That lecture ended with a confession on your part, Archer’s understanding, a hug, and several hours of silence.

The next day, both notebooks were on his desk, and no one showed up to help him walk Porthos.

Not that he would know.

Three days later, you started helping with the walks again. He had looked so overjoyed to see you, until you explained the current situation.

Some days you wpild even tell him about lying to him.

This would be met with an arm around your shoulder, a pat on your arm, a smile, and a quiet promise that it would be okay.

You didn’t believe him.

The destruction of Earth didn’t come as a surprise, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Phlox had been oddly quiet the first week.

He had sat beside you and hugged you as kissed your forehead as you cried until you puked.

Your time together had become much more macabre, both sitting together in silence.

As silent as it could get with the sobs that filled the room.

Some nights you both wouldn’t sleep. You would sit in his lap as he rubbed you back and hummed, and you would do the same for him.

One night, you had entered T'pol’s room without her permission, using the emergency system.

She had not been happy. She had ordered you to get out.

You had not left, and soon your days with Phlox were much like your days with T'pol. Sitting in silence and crying.

Hoshi and Travis were a couple. Something that you disapproved of silently. They shouldn’t have gotten together because they were the only people who could comfort eachother during this time of grief.

They should have gotten together when things were happy.

But it was too late.

You were just happy they had one another now.

After what remained of the human race was moved to a new planet, Phlox had proposed going to Denobula. He insisted that he must leave and try to find a cure for Archer back on his home planet.

You didn’t want to leave anyone, but he was all you had left.

You talked to T'pol.

She insisted you go.

Should the new planet be found, you would be safe.

You called yourself a coward.

She called you logical.

You went with Phlox to Denobula.

It was fine, but not good. Things were different.

When you asked Phlox about his day, it was nothing but failure.

When he asked about your day, you ignored him.

He didn’t blame you.

As time went on, things got better.

Phlox hadn’t pushed you at first, knowing things were raw, but had convinced you to go to counseling.

Phlox had gone to counseling too. He had gotten it for himself, telling you that you were not alone.

You had met many of his family members. Wives, children, husband’s of wives. They all seemed happy that Phlox had a partner, all completely fine that you were different.

Some had asked about what happened. Phlox reprimanded his children on the invasive question, and awkwardly answered the adults.

Well, the adult-adults.

Time relaxing with him had become easier.

When asking about his day, it was a bit more happy.

You actually answered now.

You had stayed in contact with Enterprise to the best of your abilities, but it was hard considering their current state.

You would both sit down by eachother every night. You wouldn’t talk like you used to, not most of the time.

Occasionally you would bring stuff up, or he would.

You were both more open about your experiences on the matter.

You let it slip about lying to Archer one day.

He told you everyone had done it once, before pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back.

You both knew that Archer was what was keeping that ship together. But he was gone. Not fully, but still gone.

He had come up with a cure.

You hadn’t seen him that excited in years.

His ear-to-ear smile and bright eyes. Chipper voice as he pulled you into a nearly bone crushing hug.

You would both be heading back to earth soon, or what was left of it, at least.

The trip there was fine.

Getting to see T'pol and Archer was wonderful. Getting to see the crew? Awful.

They were older. You and Phlox were too, you knew, hid hair longer and just starting to grey.

But you missed them, and started to question going with Phlox again.

You didn’t talk much with them. You didn’t want to.

Phlox could tell.

He took you with him.

When you found out that killing the parasites was changing the past too, you were elated.

But Trip wasn’t. And Malcolm was violent.

You decided to defy them. Captain Tucker didn’t sound good anyways.

Archer came up with a plan to kill the rest of the parasites. You went with it.

You saw your boyfriend, a healer, with a phase pistol in his hand.

And you saw him get shot.

And you saw him hit the ground.

And you went to help him.

You thought it was so cheesy, in the movies, when they screamed.

But now you knew it was real.

You screamed as you slid to his side.

He was the last thing you had left.

Then you saw white as pain flashed through your body.

Your vision blury, you saw T'pol fall.

Then Archer got hit.

Put he didn’t fall.

And then he did.

And then you saw black.

—

You had woken your with the bed empty, but you weren’t worried. That happened a lot.

You got up, joints awfully stiff, and something nagging at the back of you brain.

You supposed it was a forgotten dream.

You took a shower, got dressed, and headed to the med bay, where you always went before your first shift.

You went through the doors, met with Phlox’s smile and a quick kiss to the head. You grabbed his wrist and gave it a quick, loving squeeze.

“Good morning, by beloved!”

“Mornin’.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

The chuckles, informing you that the Captain is up, a'okay, and on the bridge.

The anomaly had only caused a minor concussion. Just what you had thought when you were called into the room.

You bid your boyfriend adieu, and headed to the bridge.

If you see Archer on the way there, and hear him mention how good of a nurse T'pol would be, as well as asking you about Phlox with a wink.

Well, nobody ever got good rest in med bay.

Made for @monsterfiskenfor@startreksecretsanta

T’Pol/Hoshi and just a tooouch of nsfw