The BLTS Archive - It Rests Heavy On The Soul
by Sue Christian (smc5597@waitrose.com)

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Date: 22nd June, 2003.

Archive: Permission granted to EntSTCommunity, MEGA, Our Perfect
Couple

Beta: None

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: They're not mine, alas. They'd get a lot less work done if
they were. I'm getting no financial reward for this, just a lot of
pleasure.

Author's Notes: This bunny mugged me during a long drive. It wanted to
be part of a longer story, but didn't fit with anything I'm working
on.

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It had been a long day and Malcolm Reed was tired. He still wasn't
sure that Captain Archer was right in his decision to help the Akanshi
in their fight against the Meintok raiders, but the question was moot
now, with the victory won. His whole security team had been involved,
along with Enterprise's senior officers and every Akanshi who could
handle a weapon; they were all been needed for the bitter fight. The
raiders were gone, hopefully for good, and the last hours had been
spent clearing the aftermath of battle; checking weapons, restoring
order, attending the wounded--burying the dead.

Reed trudged through the village--little more than an encampment
really--phase pistol still on his hip. He was heading towards the camp
fire by the Enterprise officers' tents, where his lover, Trip, and
Captain Archer were. He'd stalled as long as possible, restless,
disturbed, not wanting the happy camaraderie that he knew awaited him.
He felt inadequate, unable to cope with Archer's and Trip Tucker's
company, but had no more energy left to put into avoiding them. Part
of this, he knew, was a reaction to the adrenalin surge of the fight,
but only part.

As he neared the fire he could see Archer and Tucker sitting, talking,
their backs towards him. They were the only people abroad at this late
hour. No, he amended as he passed the last capatchi tree, not quite
the only ones. A lone figure sat on the bench outside the Akanshi
weapons store, cleaning a stripped-down firearm. It was Maedra, a
young mother of the tribe and fierce defender of her people, who had
killed one of the two Meintok to have died today; killed him with his
own knife and taken her part in the death badly. Reed changed his
course and went to join her.

He stood beside the bench, watching her, but apart from one quick
glance at his approach, Maedra did not acknowledge him. Eventually he
lowered himself to the bench, an arm's span away from her.

'Are you all right?' he asked, watching her profile.

'If you're another one come to tell me I should be proud of what I've
done, that it will get easier, you can forget it,' she snapped, not
pausing in her work.

'No, it doesn't get easier. If it ever starts to get easy, that's the
time to worry,' he said quietly.

She shot him a look then, as he idly picked up the sight from the
weapon she was working on. 'You'd be an expert, I suppose!'    Reed
ignored her sarcasm, allowing himself a tight smile and a
self-deprecating snort.

'You could say that.' He twisted the sight around, watching the play
of firelight on its lens, feeling the metal cold against his hands.

'How many does it take to become an expert, then? How many people have
you killed?' Her voice was hard, challenging.

'Dozens, hundreds maybe, in the ships I've destroyed or damaged whilst
on Enterprise,' he said, not looking at her. 'But if you mean face to
face, personally, then five, including today.'

'You keep a tally? Notches on your gun?' Her response was scornful.

'I remember them.' He wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the
sight, gripping it tightly.

'Tell me about them.'

His head lifted at that, blinking as he looked at her. He could see
his younger self mirrored in the guilt and desperation in her eyes.

'I want to know what you remember. What I should remember about the
man I killed.'

'You remember what you need to.' He looked down again, his attention
back on the sight.

'That's not good enough. You're an expert,' she said harshly. 'Tell me
about your killings.'

Their conversation had drawn the attention of the two men at the fire.
Out of the corner of his eye Reed saw them turn to face himself and
Maedra. He put them out of his mind as he considered her demand. She
was reassembling her weapon and reached across to take the sight from
him. He looked at his hand, watching the blood flow back into his
fingers. He sat forward, elbows resting on his knees and splayed out
both his hands to study them--hands he used for making love, hands he
used to kill.

'The first one was an accident.' He felt Maedra pause in her work, and
cast a quick glance in her direction, catching the surprise on her
face. Did she think he wouldn't tell her, or that he had been lying?
Which? He sighed. As if it made a difference.    'I didn't mean to
kill him. It was a bar fight. I stunned him with a low energy weapon
but he hit his head as he went down. He died later that night. My
superiors said it wasn't my fault. But he was still dead.'

'The second was a terrorist, she had hostages. You shoot to kill in a
situation like that. I blew her brains out. There was an inquiry; not
about the death, but because the hostages complained about being
splattered with terrorist brains.' He gave a hollow laugh and linked
his hands, fingers twined together, knuckles white.

'The third one was a drug smuggler. There was a fire-fight. It was a
shoot-to-kill operation, and I shot him.'

'The fourth...' He paused as the memories threatened to overwhelm him,
concentrating instead on the turquoise beetle crawling across the toe
of his boot. Taking a deep breath, he started again. 'The fourth I
killed to save my life. He attacked me, with a knife. I broke his neck
to save my life.' Once again he spread his hands out, examining them,
looking for some evidence of what they had done. 'Nothing else,' he
murmured. 'Just to save my own life.'

'That worries you?'

'Yes!' He looked at her sharply, then dropped his gaze again.    'He
attacked you.'

'You think that makes it right? He had a family who relied on him. I
had...just me.'

'He was trying to kill you.'

'So I killed him.'

'I'm glad.'

He didn't react, adrift in his memories, and started when she laid a
hand on his arm.

'I'm glad you killed him. Your life is worth saving.' The hard edge
had gone from her voice and there was concern in her eyes.

He stared at her, disorientated, still lost in the past.    'Today,
when the raider attacked you, tried to kill you...' she began.

'And I broke his neck. What?' He looked at her, the challenge in his
eyes now. 'You want to know if I worried about his family?'

'If you felt the same way. That he might have a family and you are
just you.'

He heaved a sigh. A log fell in the nearby fire and the glare from the
sudden blaze hurt his damp eyes as he turned towards it. He saw Tucker
sitting with his head bowed, Captain Archer's hand resting on his
shoulder. With an effort he dragged his mind back to the present.

'No. It's not just me anymore,' he said quietly. 'But it doesn't make
it any easier. Nothing makes it easier.'

'It rests heavy on the soul.'

'Yes. Yes, it does.' He stirred himself, straightening and turning to
look at her. 'I'm sorry. I wanted to try and help you cope, not burden
you with my...problems.'

'You have helped. Thank you. And you are not a burden. I'm sorry you
had to kill the Meintok today--that you had to do it that way. But it
was necessary. Your life is valuable, your cause was just. It was the
right thing to do.'

'Is that how you feel, about the one you killed?'

She looked at him for a long moment before answering.

'Yes, it is, thanks to you. I think I need to go to my family now.'

She stood, but made no move to leave. He saw her eyes flicker to the
fire and allowed his own to follow them. Tucker was sitting there
alone now; Reed wondered when Archer had left.

'Go,' he said. 'They'll be wondering where you are. Talk to them; tell
them how you feel, let them help you. It doesn't get easier, but it
will be all right.'

'And you...?' She hesitated and he gave her a wan smile.

'It's all right. Go to your family. I'm fine.'

She nodded her acceptance of his assurance, slung her firearm over her
shoulder and walked away.

Left alone, Reed went back to contemplating his entwined hands. In
control again, but barely so. He heard Tucker's boots crunch in the
fallen capatchi fronds and couldn't decide whether he wanted his
lover's company or not. The decision was made for him when Tucker
knelt in the dirt and gently pulled Reed's hands apart, holding them
firmly in his own.

'Malcolm,' he said softly, 'I'm sorry. I didn't know, didn't
think...what it must be like for you.'

'It's my job.'

'Yes, I know, but...I just want to let you know, I'm proud of you.'

The words were like a slap in the face; he jerked his head up and
tried to pull his hands away, but Tucker hung on tightly.    'You're
proud that I kill people?'

'No, Mal, not for killing. For being willing to kill, and to carry the
burden of it, for us. For me.'

Reed gave a shuddering sigh and Tucker moved to sit beside him on the
bench, an arm round his shoulders, holding him close.

'I'm proud of you, Mal, and I love you, whatever you have to do. Never
forget that.'

He leaned into the comfort of Tucker's embrace, trying unsuccessfully
to stop himself shaking.

'You told her to talk to her family, to let them help her. Talk to me,
tell me what you feel. You're not alone now, Mal. Let me help you,
please.'

Tucker, as he always could, breached his defences and he found himself
crying against his lover's shoulder as his pent-up emotions--stress,
fear, guilt--finally got the better of him.

When he was reduced to the occasional hiccupping sob, Tucker helped
him to his feet and over to their tent. There, tucked up in the
sleeping bag, Tucker's warm body at his back, the arm round his waist
securely anchoring him in the present and keeping his demons away, he
finally let himself slide into a deep, exhausted sleep.

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The End