The BLTS Archive - Those Days Are Over
by Elf (maddooks@yahoo.com)

---

Warnings: Mentions of non-con

Spoilers: None

Archive: Permission to archive granted to Entslash. Anyone
else - please ask.

Beta: SueC, once again betaing above and beyond the call of
duty.

A/N: This story has been a WIP for five years. Now it's
finished...Any remaining mistakes remain mine and mine
alone. Everything else belongs to someone else. I'm hoping
to post this in four parts...if they're too long, I'll up
the chapter count. But it is most defo finished, not a WIP.
Promise. XD

---

My trainers pound on the pavement as I run. I can feel my
breath rasping in and out of my chest. I haven't run like
this for a while - not in the open air.

It's raining, and there's a mist rolling in off San
Francisco Bay, so there aren't many people around, but I see
a figure up ahead, leaning against the railings at the side
of the road.

As I approach I can see it's a man, and he's not dressed for
the weather. He's in a tight white t-shirt and black leather
trousers. I run by and he glances up, but doesn't meet my
eyes.

I run the same route almost every night, and see the man
most times, either on my outward or return journey. It feels
like I almost know him after a few weeks.

Then one night I'm out pretty late after work, and I've just
turned for home when I slip in the wet. I feel something
wrench in my ankle and pain flares up my leg.

I limp to a stop, swearing under my breath. I lean down and
massage the injury, hoping it will ease, then begin limping
homewards. Just as I'm starting to worry if I'll make it
back to my apartment I hear a softly accented voice.

"Are you all right?"

I look up and see the man I pass each day.

"I, er, just twisted my ankle."

My southern American drawl contrasts sharply with his accent
- English, I think.

"Can I do anything to help? Call you a taxi?"

"I suppose I could do with a hand, if you're offering," I
answer, knowing that's not what he expected me to say.
Something in me wants to get to know him a little better
though.

"Of course," he says, but looks even more shocked when I
gesture down the street.

"Just some company, at least," I smile and begin limping
again.

He glances around, then falls into step with me. He looks
around us all the time, alert to our surroundings.

"I'm Charles Tucker--but my friends call me Trip." I hold
out a hand to him.

"Er, Mal." He shakes my hand.

"I feel like I know you already, after all this time," I
say, looking to him for reaction.

His eyes flick onto my face for a fraction of a second
before he looks back to the pavement.

As we walk further my ankle begins to stiffen up. In the end
I stop and flex it a bit, trying to ease it.

Mal looks concerned. "Have you injured it badly?"

"I don't think so."

"Let me look. Sit down there," he gestures at some steps.

His hands are gentle as he pushes up my sweat pants and
assesses the damage.

"It's not too bad - you've damaged the muscle slightly -
torn it, maybe. And the ligaments might be strained. You
should rest and ice it."

"You a doctor or something?" I ask, smiling.

He looks slightly embarrassed. "No, nothing like that. But
you should see a doctor, get someone to look at it. Get a
professional opinion." He pulls me up to standing. "Lean on
me, or call a taxi. You really shouldn't be walking on it."

I smile and put an arm around his shoulders. "I only live a
few blocks down."

He nods and begins walking, bearing a lot of my weight.

After a short walk I point to an apartment building.

"That's home. Come on up - have a drink, payment for helping
me home." I give what I hope is a winning and friendly
smile.

He looks up at the block, and I think I see something
between awe and envy in his eyes. "It looks a nice place,"
he says, sounding nervous.

I nod. "Where are you based? You're not from around here."

Again he looks awkward, almost haunted. "I, er, my family
are English," he says. "But I was raised in different
places. Mainly Malaysia and the UK."

I hit the button to call the elevator and soon we're outside
my apartment. I open the door and gesture Mal in. God knows
why, as I've only just met the man. But something about him
intrigues me.

He looks nervously around my sitting room, then returns to
my side. "You should sit down, take the weight off your
ankle. Do you have any ice?"

"I... er, maybe in the kitchen." He turns to go and look and
I call after him, "Grab us both a beer too, while you're
there."

He pauses, then smiles slightly and gives a sharp little nod
before disappearing into my small kitchen. He returns
quickly with both ice and beer and proceeds to sort out my
ankle. I'm half amazed that I'm letting a total stranger do
this to me, but he has a gentle efficiency and I don't
interrupt his work. Besides, he doesn't seem to be acting
like this is anything out of the ordinary.

Once he's done propping my ankle on the end of the sofa he
smiles at me. He's a beautiful sight; his wet clothing
clings to his toned body. I smile back - and the next thing
I know is soft warm lips kissing my mouth and down my neck.
A hand comes to rest on my thigh and suddenly my head
catches up with the rest of my body.

There's a total stranger kissing me. A totally male
stranger. I jump away as far as I can, my back hitting the
sofa cushions, my hand on his chest pushing him backwards so
he has to put his own hands out to steady himself.

"Wait." I nearly choke on the word.

He looks at me, a puzzled expression on his face. "If
there's something you'd like in particular, just ask," he
says.

I'm speechless, and my shock obviously shows.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he asks. "This is why you
picked me up?"

"P-picked you up?" I stutter, my hand still held out, as if
to ward him off.

"Oh Jesus." He stands up. "What the fuck do you think I am?
What do you think I'm doing hanging around on street corners
every night? Waiting for my mother?" He grabs his jacket and
walks out.

As the words sink in I realise what's been staring me in the
face for weeks. He's a prostitute. I don't know why I didn't
realise. I'm so stupid. I want to follow him, but I don't
know why. My hand moves by itself and touches my neck where
his lips were. And it begins to dawn on me. I'm attracted to
him. Him. A man. And for some reason I'm not as shocked as I
think I should be.

I sit in thought, my still-wet clothes rapidly cooling off,
despite the warmth in my apartment. His words come back to
me. What did I think he was doing on the street every night?
I come to the conclusion that I didn't think at all. He was
just a part of the scenery. I missed him when he wasn't
there.

So now I have to figure out what to do.

---

I can't run for the next few days. I had my ankle checked
out and Mal was spot on with his diagnosis and treatment,
which makes him all the more intriguing to me.

On about the fourth night I decide to walk out to his
'spot'. It's a slightly dreary night, with mist threatening
the city.

I reach his stretch of road to find it deserted and my heart
sinks. I begin to think that maybe he's moved on, after what
happened, and I might never find him again. Then I chide
myself - just because he's stuck in my mind doesn't mean
I've stuck in his.

As I'm standing there in thought a vehicle pulls up. Mal
climbs out and slams the door, watching as it drives away.
Then he turns to walk to the pavement and he sees me.

He unselfconsciously stuffs what I assume is money into the
pocket of the faded jeans he's wearing, then swings a leg
over the railing and hops over with ease.

"How's the ankle?" he asks.

I nod, dumbly. "It's... er... getting there."

He gives me a lopsided grin, almost pitying, then gestures
to a couple of steps in a doorway. "Then you should still be
resting it. Take a seat in my office."

I smile and sit down, glad that he seems okay with me.

Once he's seated too I look sideways at him. He looks tired,
kind of slumped. The spark that I've seen in him on previous
nights isn't there. He rubs a hand over his face, making
himself look very vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I walked out the other night - I'd had a bad day.
I made an error of judgement and took it out on you. It
wasn't fair."

My mouth hangs open. He's apologising to me - me, the guy
who gave him every wrong signal possible and dragged him
halfway across the city for no reason.

"It... you... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give you the wrong
idea. I didn't realise... " I trail off.

He shrugs. "I was surprised to see you here again. Most
people who don't realise what I do don't want anything to do
with me once they've found out."

I nod, then hear myself say "There are a lot of things I'd
like to do with you."

He looks away quickly, staring at the pavement.

"Fifty gets you a hand job, seventy for oral, hundred for
full. Anything kinky is extra."

The difference in him is obvious. He's gone from showing me
a little of himself to coldly listing his prices as if he's
never met me before. I suddenly wish I could have the other
Mal back, but I know I've changed things between us now, and
I can't change them back. So I just plough on.

"One hundred?" I know I can easily afford it.

"Yeah. And if you want a hotel room, you pay that too. I
know places who'll charge for the hour if you don't want to
pay more."

I swallow. "What about my place?"

He looks up, and for a moment there's a hint of a smile in
his eyes. "You're sure you know what you're letting yourself
in for this time?"

I just nod.

He stands, obviously ready to go, so I follow his example.

As we walk he looks across to me. "So what changed your
mind?"

I look blank, not quite knowing what he means.

"Last week you were mortified when I offered, and now you're
asking," he expands.

"I, ah, did some thinking," I answer.

He nods, looking like his thoughts are miles away. I want to
ask him what he's thinking, but our relationship has changed
now I'm a customer.

Relationship. As if.

We get back to my place and I let him in. He smiles when I
take his jacket, although it looks a little forced now. Then
he kicks off his shoes. I wonder how many other stranger's
houses he's walked in to, how many other people's beds he's
been in.

"What do you want then, Trip?" he asks, and I'm somehow
touched that he remembers my nickname. Then I realise he's
still looking at me, and I'm woolgathering. I don't have a
clue what to answer.

"I... uh... I don't know," I stutter.

"You want to top or bottom? Or have you changed your mind?
You can ask for anything, I won't be shocked."

And that just makes me wonder what he's been asked to do -
what he's done - in the past.

"Er, what would you like to do?" I manage to say.

He smiles a little smile and walks toward me. He slides his
fingers inside my waistband and pulls me against him,
reaching to kiss me on the lips. He trails wet kisses down
my neck, and without really knowing how he's done it I'm
sitting on the sofa. He kneels between my legs and continues
to kiss me. His lips are soft in contrast with his rough
stubble. It's the first time I've kissed a man. I mean,
really kissed. I like it; I don't feel like I have to be too
gentle. It's like I can really get stuck in. I'm not into
rough sex or anything, but with women I've always been... well,
this is just different. I can imagine what he wants because
I know what I want.

Mal's pushing at my shoulders and for a moment I wonder why,
until I realise he's unbuttoned my shirt and is now removing
it. His warm wet mouth trails down to my nipple and he
gently bites the hardening nub, then licks it. My cock
jumps, straining against my clothing. No one's ever done
that to me before, not using their teeth. I know he's
heading for my other nipple and it's like torture, waiting
for the pleasure that I know is to come. He drags his tongue
over it, then blows cold air across, making it hard as a
pebble before gently biting it.

I realise he has a talent for distraction, as my fly is now
undone. He kisses down my front, pushing me backwards until
I'm slumped on the sofa. His tongue swirls around my navel,
making me squirm. He pulls on my pants so I obligingly lift
my hips. My cock springs free as he divests me of both my
underwear and pants in one go. The cooler air of the room
touches my skin for a moment before his warm breath replaces
it as he kisses across my hips and down one thigh, removing
my shoe and sock. He does the same on the other side, and
he's even careful of my ankle. Once he discards my trousers,
leaving me sprawled naked across my sofa, he sits back on
his heels.

"Made up your mind what you want yet?" he asks.

I'm not sure I have the power of speech, so I shake my head.
He seems to be doing fine without me saying anything.

Looking at him I realise I'm totally naked while he's only
taken off his shoes.

"Take your shirt off, wouldya?" I ask.

"Oh, so you do have some ideas?" he smiles as he removes the
garment.

I look him up and down. Both nipples have silver bars
pierced through them. I swallow at the sight, wanting
desperately to reach out and touch them. I've never thought
I'd find something like that sexy until now.

As for the rest of him, well, I knew he was slim, but seeing
his pale skin almost stretched over his ribs makes me
realise he's skinny, not just slim. His wiry muscles ripple
as he moves and rests his forearms on my thighs.

"Anything else?" he asks.

I grin and shrug. His fingers are tickling as they ghost
over the sensitive skin on my inner thighs.

He leans forward and takes my cock into his mouth, its
entire length in one go. I gasp, trying not to buck my hips.
In response he begins to swallow, his throat muscles
massaging the tip. I nearly come, and I think he senses how
close I am because he stops, pulling back, gently sucking
me.

I groan as the warm wetness leaves me. A warm gust of air as
Mal laughs makes me look down.

"Been a while, has it?" he asks.

I can't help but smile when he does, so I nod. He has no
idea.

"You got some lube?' he asks, all business again.

I swallow. Of course I haven't. And it's just starting to
dawn on me what I'm about to do. It's meant to hurt, isn't
it? I mean, how can it not hurt, having someone's cock up
your ass? I know some people enjoy it, obviously, but
they're... well, they're gay. I'm not. Or I wasn't. Now I'm not
so sure.

I guess he takes my silence as a negative, as he stands up
and walks over to his jacket, pulling something out of the
pocket. As he walks back toward me I see he has a plastic
sachet in his hand. I should have known he'd be prepared.
After all, he is a professional.

"So, you want to top or bottom?"

Top, now, I'm guessing that would mean I get to... well, that
can't be bad, can it? Just like fucking a woman, I suppose.
At least I hope that's what it means.

"I want to take you," I answer, just to be sure. "But not
here, on the bed."

He glances over his shoulder to where I gesture.

"Sure."

He reaches out for my hand and I lead the way, feeling my
heart beating at a million miles an hour. I'm not sure if
it's arousal or fear. Probably both.

When we reach the bed I realise he's still in his jeans.
Nervously I reach for his waistband, and I can see my
fingers shaking. I touch his stomach and slide my fingers
inside the heavy denim. As I pull on it I feel each stud of
his button-fly come undone. I'm not sure what to do next,
but he obviously realises and takes my hands in his. He
slides our joined hands around his hips and pushes down over
his butt, sliding his jeans off and onto the floor.

My cock is pressed between our stomachs as Mal steps into
me, leaving the jeans pooled on the floor.

I feel like the most awkward of schoolboys, on a first date,
not knowing what to do with myself.

He pushes me back onto the bed.

"Relax. You're meant to be enjoying this," he says as he
rolls me onto my front and straddles my thighs. There's a
part of me that's terrified of another man being this close
to me, especially naked. But there's another--rather
prominent--bit that just wants to bury itself inside this
man.

Then strong fingers begin to massage my shoulders, neck and
back. I relax into the touch and sigh as his mouth sucks,
licks and kisses down the same path as his hands take.

Then his tongue starts going where no man... hell, no *one* has
been before. The warm wet probe slides between my buttocks,
touching me in one of the most intimate areas. I want to
move away - it makes me feel uncomfortable, him doing this.
I can't believe anyone would want to... just the thought of it
makes me feel a bit funny.

But I don't move away. I just put exactly what he's doing
out of my mind and concentrate on the sensations.

It does feel amazing, intimate and gentle. I'm beginning to
get hard again. I never knew this kind of stuff would have
such an effect on me.

Finally he crawls up the bed to lie beside me, then pulls me
on top of him.

"Come on, if you want to be in me," he says.

I'm suddenly not sure about the mechanics of this. I had
kind of assumed we'd do it doggy-style, but Mal's lying
under me like a girl.

He reaches out and grabs the sachet of lube, ripping it open
with his teeth before squeezing some onto his hand. He holds
it for a second, warming it I guess, before reaching down
and sliding his hand over my cock. I close my eyes and try
to keep some semblance of control. Once my cock's liberally
covered he takes my hands in his, sliding his slick fingers
over and around mine until both my hands are slippery with
lube.

Then he raises his legs, giving me obvious access. As I
kneel up he rests his legs up on my shoulders, and as I look
down the sight takes my breath away, seeing him so open and
trusting. And all mine.

I position myself carefully and begin to push in, my gaze
focussed on where our bodies join. Out of the corner of my
eye I see his hands gripping the sheets. I can hear him
panting too, as I am. It does feel amazing, and my fingers
press harder into him, sliding over his skin with the lube,
but holding his hips tightly, despite the fact I can feel
him trying to move.

I have an overwhelming need to thrust, so give in to my need
and push the final inch or so in hard and fast, pumping my
length into his tight hot hole.

"Oh, God, Mal," I moan, finally looking up at his face. His
eyes are squeezed shut, head to one side, his bottom lip is
caught between his teeth hard. I can hear his ragged
breathing matching mine.

As I thrust deeply, speeding up, his breath hitches and he
lets out a moan. "Trip... " he half-sobs. It pretty much sends
me over the edge, hearing him say my name, and a second
later I come, instinct taking over and making me need to get
as far inside him as I possibly can.

When I'm done I catch my weight on my arms and roll off him.
I plant a tired kiss on his cheek and drape an arm over his
stomach.

"That was amazin'," I pant.

He covers my hand with his and pulls my head down to rest on
his chest. He wipes his face on his hand, above my head. I'd
like to be able to see his expression , but his arm is
keeping me pressed to his chest.

After a few minutes he presses his lips into my hair.

"Is it ok if I shower?" he asks.

I nod, feeling the loss of his warmth as he slides out of
bed. I take a moment, then decide I have to pull myself
together. However great that might have been, we're not a
couple. We weren't making love. It was a business
transaction.

I feel slightly sick when I think of it that way. I mean, he
enjoyed it. He likes me.

I paid for him to make me believe that he enjoyed it and
that he likes me.

Pay... I haven't paid him yet.

I crawl out of bed go back into the other room to find my
wallet in my pants. I pull out a hundred note and hold onto
it as if it somehow forms a link to Mal.

A few minutes later he walks out of the shower room, a towel
wrapped around his waist.

I hold up the note, not knowing what to say.

"Just leave it on the table." He gestures to the low table
in the middle of the room. I comply, watching as he quickly
gathers his things and begins to dress.

I hang around self-consciously, not knowing what to do with
myself.

He looks up at me from where he's sitting on the sofa,
putting on his shoes.

"Are you intending to spend the rest of the evening naked?"
he asks, a gentle smile on his face taking any sting out of
the words.

"I... uh... need to shower," I stutter.

"Go on then, I can see myself out."

He looks tired - almost sad. I guess he's doing this to make
it easy on both of us when he leaves. Or maybe he wants to
get out fast because he's got another customer lined up.

I smile awkwardly. "I'll er... see you... around."

He nods as he stands up and buttons his shirt up.

Once I'm in the bathroom I hear the door close. It's as if
I've been punched. The whole scene I built up in my head
comes crashing down with that sound.

I shower, trying not to remember what I've just done.

Once I'm showered and dry I guess I've got a choice - either
wallow around in my own self-pity or get out and have a
life.

I head for the vid-link and reach to dial up Jon Archer -
one of my best friends.

That's when I notice it. On the table lie the hundred
credits, untouched.

My first thought is that Mal's forgotten them. Then I see a
light blinking on my message panel. I press the button to
retrieve it.

Mal appears on the screen, obviously in the public vid-booth
on the street.

"Trip... I... I left the money." He glances around himself,
looking uncomfortable. "I left it because... because I think
that was your first time, with a man." He looks away from
the screen again, this time down at the pavement. "Maybe I'm
wrong. Anyway. No one should have their first time with a
whore. You're better than that. Go and find someone. Someone
just for you, someone special. You don't need to pay for
sex. You need someone to love, and you deserve someone to
love you." He finally looks directly into the camera, making
his grey eyes look out from the screen on my desk and into
my very soul. Then the signal cuts.

It takes a moment for this message to sink in.

Was it that obvious that it was my first time? I thought he
was enjoying himself. And I didn't treat him like a... rent
boy. I can't bring myself to think of him as a whore.
And... I'm not sure I want anyone else. I'm not gay; I'm just
in love with him.

---

I sit at my desk, not knowing what to do with myself. Then I
decide, whatever else happens, I need to find out a whole
lot more about the physical side of things. So I start
pulling files and information on male/male sex.

I've always thought I was a pretty well informed guy. Not
anymore. Now I've read about what other people get up to I
feel like I must've been living in a box my whole life.

And I'm now very aware that he didn't come - despite a whole
lot of people who are convinced that being on the bottom is
far better than being the top. I guess when we were... I was
having sex with him I just couldn't imagine anyone enjoying
that side of it that much.

So, this gorgeous enigma of a man has put up with me being a
total idiot, he's tried to cope with my mixed signals and me
not knowing my own mind, he's been on the receiving end of
my lack of experience... and he didn't even take the money.

In fact, thinking about my lack of experience I'm starting
to wonder if the clenched fists and lip biting were really
him in the throes of ecstasy... or in pain.

Apparently there are all sorts of things that are meant to
happen before the penetration bit - to make it less painful.

I get a sudden urge to go find him, tell him I'm sorry, that
I didn't mean to hurt him, that I love him. I dress to go
outside quickly, but stop as I stride across the living
room. What am I doing? Somehow I've got it in my head that
I'm important to him; that he cares about what I think and
do. And it's probably just not true.

My door chime rings, breaking into my thoughts. My heart
jumps at the thought that it could be him. I rush to open
the door.

But what greets me isn't the slight muscular frame of Mal,
but the substantial figure of Jon Archer.

"Heya, Trip."

"Jon - er, come in."

He's smiling widely. Just what I need.

"I was at a loose end, thought I'd see if you wanted to go
for a drink?"

I nod dumbly. I'm glad of the potential distraction, really.
I'm just not sure I'll be the best company.

I turn to get my jacket and notice the screen on my desk is
still showing the search I'd done. I try to reach it without
drawing any attention to myself, and quickly press the 'off'
switch.

"Where d'you want to go?" I ask, trying to act relaxed.

"Oh, I don't know. Just walk somewhere close, shall we?" he
says, looking around.

Those damn hundred credits are still lying on the table. And
I realise the bed is still unmade. I suddenly get this awful
feeling that he'll guess what I've done--but I know that's
impossible. I'm being paranoid. After both our showers it
doesn't even smell of sex in here, just steam and shower
gel.

"Er...sure, whatever, sounds good," I stammer at Jon.

We find a quiet-ish bar and have been sitting in it for
nearly an hour when Jon suddenly thunks his glass down on
the table in front of me.

I jump, suddenly aware I don't have a clue what he's been
saying to me. I've been staring into my beer, a million
miles away.

"What's up, Trip?" he asks, sounding exasperated. "You've
been distracted all evening."

I shake my head. "Just thinking on things, I guess."

"Things you want to talk about?"

I look up, tempted. But what would I say? 'Yeah, Jon, buddy,
I fell in love with a rent boy and now I'm obsessed.'

I shake my head. "Not really."

"Well, if you decide you do, I'm always here."

I nod, grateful to have such a good friend, even though I
know I could never take him up on his offer.

We chat about what we're both up to work-wise instead and a
few common interests we hold. Then I realise the bar's
closing and we're gently thrown out onto the streets. Where
he is. I look at Jon, not really knowing what to do with
myself.

"Sorry, Trip, I've got an early start, or I'd suggest we go
on somewhere."

"No--it's okay. I'm kinda beat anyway," I try to grin, so he
knows it's ok, but I'm not really feeling in a smiley mood.

We say our goodbyes and I begin to trudge home, perversely
enjoying the cold and lonely streets. I feel like it matches
my miserable mood. Like I deserve to feel like this.

He's probably still out here, working. Even after I hurt him
and wasted half his evening.

Work means I have to go away for about a week - great
timing, just when I could do with some time to sort myself
out.

So it ends up that I don't see him until I run again.

He's sitting on the railings as I approach, talking to a man
who's leaning beside him. At first I think I should just run
past, but I can't bring myself to. It's obvious the guy he's
talking to isn't a customer as he chats to Mal. In fact, I'm
guessing he's another rent boy.

The gaze from those stormy blue-grey eyes falls upon me, and
I see Mal say something to the man next to him, who
immediately looks around at me.

Mal climbs off the rails, and I notice he doesn't move with
all of his usual fluidity. I'm immediately hit with a wave
of guilt so strong I almost gasp. What if I did that to him?
Then I don't notice anything except the slightly sad smile
on his face as he approaches me.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you again," he says in that
damn sexy British accent. "It's been a while."

I nod, although the time has flown by for me.

"I had to go away - work," I explain.

He casts his eyes down, a habit I notice he has. "You're
just passing then?" he asks the pavement, not meeting my
gaze.

And I want to say 'yes'. But now I've seen him, and he's so
close. My body's remembering all those wonderful feelings,
and my imagination is thinking of all the things I've read
about.

"Depends if you're busy," I hear myself say.

He looks straight at me then, eyes almost accusing.

"You did get my message, didn't you?"

I nod.

He half turns away, shaking his head. "I had hoped that you
hadn't been around because you'd found someone more
suitable."

I feel myself getting angry. He sounds like my damn mother.
What would he know about finding a suitable lover? Then I
realise how unfair I'm being. He's just trying to help me,
in his own way.

"I'm sorry," I say, immediately wondering what I'm
apologising for. "Want to go for a drink?"

He looks back at the other man. Who's staring at us
unashamedly.

"I'll see you around, Tony," he calls.

The man half raises his hand in acknowledgement.

I find myself smiling as we fall into step.

"So... how've you been?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Fine. You?"

"Busy," I answer, truthfully.

We walk in silence until finally I can't hold it in any
more.

"About last time," I blurt out, then pause.

He looks across at me, and I stumble over my words as I
continue.

"I - I didn't mean... to hurt you... you were right, it was my
first time and... now I know, well, I know... I've done some
research," I finish lamely.

He gives a quick half-smile, the sort that I would have
missed if I'd blinked.

"I didn't mean my message to be rude in any way. And you
didn't hurt me."

I know he's lying, but there's no anger in his voice,
nothing to suggest he hates me as I thought he might. I
suppose he's being a professional.

He indicates that I should choose where we go to drink, so I
lead the way to a quiet bar I know.

I get us drinks and we sit in one of the booths. At first
I'm not sure what to talk about, but we seem to manage small
talk about sports, the weather and the city. We both drink
fairly quickly anyway, and I find myself wondering if he
gets to do things like this very often. He seems almost
awkward like this, whereas when he was in my apartment,
naked, he seemed quite at home.

When he's almost finished his drink I reach over and put my
hand on his.

"Will you come back to mine?" I ask.

I deliberately chose a place to drink that wasn't far from
my apartment.

He looks away, as if in contemplation.

"I can't stay long," he finally says.

I just nod, the same fear as before starting to build inside
me. Except this time it's not because I'm afraid I won't
enjoy it, it's because I'm desperate for him to.

We reach my place, and as soon as I shut the door I push him
up against the wall and kiss him. He tastes of beer, his
mouth soft and welcoming.

I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, but he pointedly takes
my hands and rests them on his butt.

Then he pushes me toward the sofa, pulling off my shirt.

Every time I reach to try and pull off his clothing he
gently guides my hands to rest on his body.

He plays the same tricks on me as last time--using his mouth
on my nipples as he removes my pants, then pulls my hips to
the edge of the sofa and kisses over my thighs, balls and
dick. I'm rock hard in moments, and I tug on the shoulders
of his tee shirt, trying to pull it off him so I can feel
his smooth skin against my own.

He takes my hands and pins my wrists beside me on the sofa.
Then he continues to lick and suck my aching cock until I'm
a boneless wreck, lost in the pleasure he's giving me.

I don't even notice that he's stopped holding my hands down
until I feel a new sensation... a cool slick finger pushing
gently into my ass.

I clench up slightly, my body naturally reacting to the
invasion, but the continuing waves of pleasure from his
mouth make me relax again.

I can feel the fullness inside me, almost making me feel
like I might cramp up. Every movement he makes seems
magnified. And then suddenly there's the most amazing jolt
of pleasure. I almost come. My body fights its two needs,
making me squirm--I want to thrust upwards, into Mal's warm,
wet mouth, and I need to get as much of him in me as
possible to touch that sweet spot.

My hands tangle in his short dark hair as I hold his head
and thrust wildly. He just takes it all in, fingers hitting
the perfect place on every down stroke.

I come harder than I ever have before, watching through
sated eyes as he swallows, my wet cock sliding easily
between his lips.

After a moment he slips his finger out of me and I make a
small noise of protest at the loss.

He looks as if he's about to stand up so I reach for his
shirt and pull him toward me, so he's half lying on me. Then
I wrap my legs around his waist so he can't get away from
me. I reach between us to try and unbutton his shirt, but he
stops me, hands firmly pushing me away.

"Not tonight, Trip."

"Aw, c'mon, I've had all the fun--both times."

He shakes his head. "Maybe another time."

"How about just... lyin' with me? See what happens?" I plead,
not wanting him to leave yet. "I'll pay you extra," I say in
desperation, reaching for my pants to get my wallet out,
throwing over a hundred credits down.

He frowns, but climbs onto the sofa, where I gesture. I move
until I'm lying on top of him, pinning his clothed body
under my naked one.

I shift a little, trying to look at him, and he gasps in
pain, instinctively pushing my weight away from the spot I
hit.

"Mal?"

"It's nothing," he says, although he's still pushing my
weight off himself.

"No it isn't." I move off him, sitting back. "What's up?"

He shifts away from me, sitting on the other end of the
sofa.

"I'd better go."

I frown, reaching out for him. "Oh no you don't. I want to
help. What's wrong with you? Can't you see I just want to
help?"

He stands up, moving away from me. "No, it's... it's
inappropriate."

As he moves he has that same stiffness about him, and now I
realise why. He's hurt.

"Let me see," I order, standing up.

He turns away.

"You only pay to use my body, Trip, you don't own it," he
says, harshly.

I sigh, suddenly deflated by his words.

"I just want to help," I say softly. "The same as you helped
me the night we met."

He turns back around at that and looks at me. He looks lost
and totally miserable.

"Please?" I say, holding out my hand to him.

He finally gives in and approaches me. I take his hand and
lead him to the bedroom, flicking the light on as I go.

I stand him still and pull up his t-shirt, looking him in
the eye. He immediately drops his gaze, looking totally
wretched.

As I pull the fabric up I expose his body.

"Jesus, Mal," I gasp. "What happened?"

There are a number of large bruises dark against his skin,
and a cut from his chest diagonally down across his stomach.

"Someone wanted something I had," he says quietly.

"Let me get some ointment."

I walk quickly to the bathroom. I know I've got some stuff
in here. I get enough cuts and scrapes doing my job to keep
some all-purpose medical supplies around the place.

"Why didn't you go and see a doctor?" I call.

"It's not that bad," he says, softly.

"It don't look too good from here. I can drive you down to
the med-centre if you'd like," I offer.

"No - really, I'm fine," he answers, a little too quickly.

"Take your top off," I say, needing to see if he's hurt
anywhere else.

He grips it where it's bunched under his chin and awkwardly
takes it off, obviously pulling abused muscles.

I take it and lay it carefully on the bed, then turn back to
him. On his back there's a clearly visible imprint of
someone's boot. I wince.

"What did they want?" I ask, as I begin rubbing the cool
cream onto his skin.

He hisses slightly at my touch, and I guess the antiseptic
in the ointment is probably stinging the abrasions.

"Just my money, for once," he answers.

"For once?" I query, wondering what else he'd have that they
could want usually.

"It's more often my body," he says, blandly.

The implication scares me. I want to take care of him, tell
him to stop it, tell him I love him and that he can't keep
doing what he's doing, because he deserves more. So I bite
my tongue.

"Did you lose much?" I ask, feigning the same detachment he
has.

Mal gives a little laugh, and the first genuine smile of the
night passes over his face. "No, I didn't. One of them lost
consciousness, and the other a few teeth."

At first I think he's joking, but I quickly realise he's
serious.

"There were two of them?" I say, incredulously.

He nods. "They were drunk, mind."

"And you fought them?" I can't keep the shock out of my
voice.

"I do have the benefit of some martial arts training," he
says, as if somehow that's cheating.

I'm not surprised. His body's all muscle, and despite the
fact he's small there's a lot of strength in him.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're not going back out there
tonight, are you?" I ask, worried for him.

He turns and reaches for his shirt, not answering me.

"You know... you know you can always call on me, if you ever
need anything, don't you?" I say, realising how stupid that
sounds as soon as I say it.

He gives a lopsided half-smile. "I'll keep it in mind."

And I know he'll never be taking me up on my offer.

Once he's ready to go he looks up to me, then quickly walks
towards me. His hand cups my cheek and fingers slide across
the back of my neck. He kisses me on the cheek.

"Thank you," he whispers, then leaves whilst I'm still
standing there, mouth hanging open.

I don't know how long I stay like that, but when I finally
move I have no idea what to do with myself. My hand is still
slightly greasy from the ointment, and I can feel on my
cheek where his lips touched my skin.

The kiss has totally thrown me. I wander into the sitting
room to get my clothes. They're strewn around the room, so I
gather them and finally sink down onto the sofa.

Then I notice that the money's gone. Or at least, he's taken
seventy. That takes some of the shine off the kiss. I really
felt like we had a link there for a few seconds - something
personal, not business. But now he's taken the pay. It was
just another transaction to him.

I don't know why I'm trying to convince myself it's anything
but. He obviously needs the money. There can't be any other
reason why he's doing this.

---

I'm busy for the next few nights; a friend's birthday and
some work-related meetings conspiring to take up my
evenings. I'm on the way back from one of the meetings in my
car, thinking about Mal, so I decide to cruise by and see if
he's around.

I've been thinking about him a lot, and I now catch myself
looking at other men, seeing if they measure up. None of
them have. I don't feel anything for them.

When I pull the car up I see him leaning against the wall.
He looks across, so I flash my headlights.

He moves away from the wall gracefully and jumps the
railings. I smile, as it's obvious he's feeling a lot
better.

I hit the button to wind down the passenger window and he
leans in.

"Watcha after, mate?" he asks, then looks me in the eye.
"Oh, it's you."

I grin, "Well, hello to you too."

"Sorry, I'm not used to you in a motor."

I notice his accent isn't nearly as... well, refined as it
normally is.

"You free?" I ask.

He nods slowly.

"Get in then." I say, then quickly add, "If you want?"

He climbs in the car and I look him over. He's wearing soft
leather jeans and a black singlet. He looks stunning.

"Hey, you want some dinner? I'm buying?" I offer, realising
I'm hungry.

He looks at me and smiles. "You definitely need a man."

I shrug, "I'm okay I as I am."

"That's why you spend your evenings picking up trade?" he
raises his eyebrows.

"Not trade - just you," I correct. I don't want him thinking
I do this with just anyone.

"In case it's escaped your notice, I am a rent-boy, a whore,
a hooker, whatever. I am not an escort, and I'm definitely
not a boyfriend. I think you need to understand that."

I stop the car, turning to look at him. "I know, I know
that," I insist.

Except I'm afraid he's just put his finger on exactly my
problem. I've somehow made up this world where we're
friends, and I keep trying to convince myself that's true. I
just didn't know he'd notice so quickly.

Then again, his signals aren't exactly the clearest at the
moment either. He seems to be implying this is all my fault,
and that's just not fair.

"But how am I supposed to 'understand' when one minute I get
a freebie, then you kiss me, like you really mean it, but
you take the money. What kind of fucked up signals are
they?"

He looks out of the windshield, into the distance, thinking,
I guess.

He's sitting so still that when he moves I jump.

He just gets out of the car and starts walking back down the
road, the way we came.

I jump out and stare after him. "Mal? Mal!" I shout.

He turns around, but walks backwards, still moving away.
"No, I'm sorry, this was a mistake; this was all a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. Mal! Please... "

But he's gone, and I'm left standing in the middle of the
road, passing cars honking their horns at me.

Shit.

I spend the evening pacing my flat, thinking about what I'm
doing with my life. What I've done.

In the end it takes me two days of wandering around in a
daze, only half interacting with the world around me to
decide what I should do.

And then, just when I think I've sorted things out in my
head, the Gods, or whoever it is that controls these things,
intervene. My plan falls apart.

I run to Mal's spot - not out running, that became an excuse
weeks ago. Now I just run to his spot, to see him.

When I arrive he's not there, so I sit down and wait. Every
time I hear a car approaching I pray it will be him, but
after I've been there for over an hour there's still no sign
of him.

I recognise the same guy Mal was speaking to that one night.
Tony, I think Mal called him, so walk toward him as he walks
away from the car he's been in.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I say, feeling ridiculous. "I'm
looking for Mal."

He looks me up and down. "He ain't workin' tonight. I'll do
you though - his prices."

I shake my head, frustrated. "No, I really need to find him,
not... not for business, I need to talk to him."

The man shrugs, obviously not caring. "What's it worth?"

"What?" I ask, knowing I sound shocked.

"Credits. Twenty'll buy you his address."

I fumble in my pocket and pull out the money. He gives me
the address, directions and the flat number.

I could run the distance easily, but I don't. Now I've had
time to think about it I'm nervous; I've crossed a line. I'm
about to see him, on his ground and I want to be prepared,
mentally. The walk gives me time to think - time to rehearse
my lines.

I hit the door link and the screen fuzzes, obviously out of
order. I push on the heavy door and to my surprise it swings
open.

I pick my way through the rubbish that is strewn around in
the corridors. I'm surprised the building hasn't been
demolished already, the walls have large cracks through the
graffiti and stains and the floor is uneven. The whole place
deserves to be condemned.

I start climbing the stairs, not quite trusting that the
lift would get me up to his floor.

I reach what I think is the right landing, although all of
the signs have been vandalised, and I walk along the
corridor. The number is painted neatly on his door, so I
take a deep breath and knock.

Nothing happens. I start to wonder if he's out. Then I
wonder if this is even the right address - I was eager to
believe anything that I thought would get me closer to Mal.

Then there's a noise - the locks on the other side of the
door being disabled. My whole body tenses.

The door swings open and my carefully prepared speech is
immediately forgotten.

"Holy shit," I breathe as I look him up and down.

He has on a pair of faded and ripped jeans and a well-worn
shirt. One bandaged arm and hand is held defensively across
his body. His face is cut and bruised.

"What are you doing here?" his speech is made thick by his
swollen split lips.

"I... needed... need... to talk to you."

He sighs and stands back to let me enter.

The tiny apartment is almost empty. A desk sits under the
window, there are books open on it and two mugs. I guess
that's where he was sitting before I interrupted him.

At one side of the room there's a bed, and although it's
neatly made I can see someone's been lying on it, the other
wall has a worktop with a small cooker and a sink.

An open door affords me a glance into what must be a tiny
bathroom.

I'm brought back to the present by the sound of the door
shutting.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning back on
the door.

"Oh, I, er... I... what happened to you, Mal?" I reach out to him,
but he shrinks away, walking around me and sitting carefully
on the edge of the bed.

"It's nothing. How did you find me?"

I look around the room before walking to the desk and
spinning the chair around so I can sit on it. I try to look
into his eyes, but he carefully avoids my gaze.

"I wanted to find you, so I asked one of the other... "

He nods. "As you can see, I'm not up to much. Could probably
blow you, if you want."

Even the thought of it somehow repulses me. I hate that he
thinks that's all I'm here for. And I hate him for offering,
because I know that other people would probably take him up
on it, even if they could see that he was hurt.

"No, no, I don't want that. Have you been to the
med-centre?" I ask, looking at the semi-neat bandaging. He's
obviously had some medical help this time, thank God.

"Health centre," he answers.

Health centres are notorious places. They're not regulated,
like med-centres are, but they're cheap, and if you don't
have medical insurance, or don't want anyone official to
know what's happened to you, that's where you go. They often
employ medical staff who can't get a job anywhere else.
Doctor's who've been struck off, that kind of thing.

"What did they say?" I ask, wondering what the bits of him I
can't see look like.

He shrugs. "I'll live."

"You should see a proper doctor, you know," I say, and
regret it as soon as his angry gaze hits me.

"I'm fine. It's not a big deal," he snaps.

"Not a... Mal! Look at yourself! No-one deserves to be hurt,
whatever you do."

He shakes his head. "I'm aware of that," he says icily. "But
there we go, it happened, I'm over it. Now, what do you
want?"

I pause, not knowing how to say it.

"I'm going away," I start.

He nods.

"I mean, I'm going for good."

He nods again, as if waiting for the revelation.

And it starts to dawn on me, what should have been obvious
all along. He doesn't care. I've read so much into our
encounters, but why would he care? Why would he care about
some sad lonely guy who can't sort his life out and falls
for a whore? He'll probably be glad to get shot of me.

I blurt the rest out, not knowing how else to do it, but I
have to say what I came here to, or I'll hate myself for the
rest of my life.

"I want you to come with me. Don't stay here and do this.
Come and live with me, we can work it out. I can't bear to
think of you still here. You're intelligent, you can do
better."

He just looks at me, waiting for me to finish.

When he finally speaks it's in an even tone, no emotion.

"I'm touched that you would ask me to accompany you -
although you haven't exactly given me much detail. And I'm
touched to know you care. But it is rather short-sighted of
you to imagine that I don't have plans of my own to fulfil.
I'm sorry, but I'll have to say no."

It wasn't exactly the knock-back I'd been expecting.

I stare at the floor, trying to think of any arguments to
use against him. But there aren't any.

Finally I sigh, "I really thought you might say 'yes'."

He smiles. "If it's of any consolation I can assure you that
had I not had slightly... grander... plans than remaining on the
game for the rest of my life, I might have been tempted."

He looks into my eyes and I know I've just lost the only man
I've ever loved. There's a touch of regret in his grey
depths, or at least, I think there is, but there's also
resolve.

I stand and walk across his room, looking back at him when I
reach the door.

He's sitting with his arm wrapped around his body, one leg
tucked under himself. His face is turned to me, no
expression visible under the bruises, just watching me
leave.

---

That's kind of how I remember him, sometimes. Other times I
remember how his lips or stubble felt when they brushed my
skin, or sometimes his smell. But as the years pass my
memories fade. They're clearest when I dream, but I can
never hang on to my dreams into waking hours. The images and
feelings they evoke slip through my fingers like sand, and
the harder I concentrate on trying to remember the more
elusive they become. In the end I'm not even remembering
him; I'm remembering what I wanted him to be.

I've been with a few men since, but never for more than one
night, and only when a woman just won't satisfy the need
inside me.

I try not to have much time to think about anything other
than work for most of the time, to be honest. I throw myself
into having a social life, but even the downtime is
inevitably spent with people I work with or people I sleep
with for one night and hope never to see again.

Memories of him still ambush me occasionally. Normally when
I'm trying to get to sleep at night, or I'm working on my
own. Sometimes I cherish them, other times I brush them
aside, angry with myself for being such a fool.

I try to avoid R&R, or at least, I try to plan things to
keep myself busy when I have time off work. So when I'm
ordered to take some just as the project is really getting
exciting I resent it. I've been burying myself in my work so
I don't have to face anything else.

The Warp Five engine is being fitted to a brand-new NX class
starship, the 'Enterprise'. I'm her Chief Engineer, which is
why I definitely shouldn't be on R&R at such an important
time, although when I point that out command just laugh and
assure me there are plenty of people as qualified as I am -
which isn't strictly true.

We're not too far from the launch of our first mission, and
we've been working flat out. Just recently people have been
taking their last leave - a chance to say goodbye to their
folks for a while.

Obviously I want to see my family, but I also want to see
that my engine is treated as she should be.

I finally head back to Earth from the space dock, and one of
my first thoughts as we head for San Francisco is to try and
find Mal.

I tried once before, when I found myself in the city with a
few days to spare. That was about 6 or so years ago now.
There was no record of him that I could find, but hell, I
don't even know if Mal was his real name - and even if it
was, that's hardly much to go on.

In the end I decide against even trying. It's been ten
years. And anyway, I don't need to fuel my obsession further
- especially as I'm about to embark on a deep-space mission
that could last for years.

Jon calls me most days I'm planetside, keeping me updated.
He's busy trying to crew the ship, as Starfleet told him he
could have the pick of any personnel he wanted. He tells me
about some of the interviews, funny stories or surprising
things. I know he's having a hard time choosing people to
fill some positions.

I go home to Florida and get pampered by my folks. My last
night on Earth is celebrated by the whole Tucker clan
turning up, and we party well into the night.

Then, after the brief interlude it's back to work. On my
first day back on the station Jon comes by to take me to
breakfast. I badger him for updates from engineering before
finally we both get back to Enterprise.

Halfway there Jon suddenly slaps a hand on my back.

"Trip, I forgot to mention, you're not the only head of
department anymore. New officer moved in, he's head of
armoury, tactical and security. Got here yesterday. Come and
meet him, I'll introduce you."

I frown slightly. One man as head of three departments -
albeit they are closely linked. And security as one of them.
He's bound to be some muscle-bound moron with a skull
thicker than Enterprise's hull plating. I give Jon a weak
smile. If I end up having to share my resources with some
knuckle-headed moron for five years I won't be happy.

Jon drags me into the armoury, and since I left it's been
filled with tools and equipment. He may only have been here
a day, but he's certainly marked his territory. I envisage
him as being like a rottweiler and wonder if he's pissed
against the wall yet.

"Lieutenant," Jon calls, looking around for his errant guard
dog.

"Captain?" a voice calls, and I can't help but think it
sounds vaguely familiar.

Jon heads towards the sound and as I follow him I see a dark
haired man extricating himself from the weapons housing,
where he's obviously been working.

He straightens up, smoothing his uniform down, then lifts
his head to look toward us.

My heart stops dead as his grey-blue gaze comes to rest on
me. He shows no flicker of recognition.

"Trip - Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Malcolm - Commander Trip
Tucker."

He looks me straight in the eye and snaps to attention.

"Commander," he says, in his slightly husky British accent.

"I... er... er... at ease, Lieutenant," I finally manage.

He relaxes into a perfect 'at-ease' stance, although I'm not
sure 'relaxes' is the word.

"Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to it," Jon smiles. "I'm
sure you'll be getting to know each other very well in the
next few weeks. See you for lunch, Trip. I want to update
you on some of the other ship's business."

Jon turns and leaves, but I can't take my eyes off the
vision in front of me.

I realise that now Jon's gone a small smile is tugging at
Mal's lips. The first sign of recognition he's given.

I can't get any words out, I just continue to gape. Jon said
'Lieutenant'. He's standing in front of me, on my ship, in
Starfleet uniform. He's an officer, on Enterprise. I can't
believe it can be him. I can't equate the man I left in the
tiny apartment in the backstreets of San Francisco with the
officer now standing in front of me.

Finally he breaks the silence.

"You look a little surprised to see me, sir," he says, calm
as you like.

"I think... how... what are you doing here?" I finally stutter.

He shrugs and looks around. "Just trying to fix the firing
mechanism."

I laugh and shake my head, knowing he's teasing me. "You
know what I mean."

"As I told you last time we spoke, I had plans a little
beyond working the streets for the rest of my life."

I look up at him. "You don't seem surprised to see me," I
observe.

He smiles the same sexy half-smile that he used to and
raises his gaze to look directly into my eyes. "I knew you
were in Starfleet. I'd always wondered if one day our paths
would cross again. And your name is pretty synonymous with
Enterprise's."

He breaks eye contact again and glances ruefully at the
circuits for the firing mechanism that I can now see spread
about inside the tube he was working in.

"However, right now I must continue to establish a
relationship with this damned thing."

I nod silently, still trying to comprehend that the love of
my life is standing a few feet from me, talking about
mechanics, when we've been apart for ten years.

He smiles indulgently. "We'll have to catch up later - when
we're both off duty."

And I immediately curse the fact Jon's booked me for lunch.

"Er, tonight, you doing anything tonight? I mean, do you
want to get something to eat?" I can hear the eagerness in
my own voice.

"That would be fine," he smiles.

"I'll come by and pick you up. Where are you staying?" I
ask, my smile threatening to take over my whole face.

"My quarters are on E deck. I believe I'm the only one who
has moved in, so I'm sure you'll find me."

I nod, deciding I should hurry up and move my things onboard
too, instead of living on the station.

"I'll come by and find you. About twenty hundred hours?"

He nods.

"And... I'll see you... around," I say, not quite sure what the
appropriate behaviour is when you've just got a date with
your one true love after waiting ten years.

He nods, "Yes, sir."

I take the sudden formality to mean that we're back on
working terms for now.

---

We still see each other a fair bit, whilst everyone's
working and power supplies are being fought over as well as
technical questions being fired back and forth. I manage to
run most errands to the armoury myself, despite the fact I
could easily send a junior. I know I'm being silly, but it's
almost like I want to check he's still there. I couldn't
bear to lose him again.

Anyway, Mal's alone in the armoury most of the time, only
the odd member of crew in there with him, so I figure it's
better for his safety if someone checks on him regularly. Or
at least, that would be my excuse if anyone ever thought to
ask.

At lunch Jon calls me on the comm and we go onto the station
to eat. He asks how Mal and I are getting along, so I form
some semi-coherent answer that doesn't tell him anything.

"You two are all right, aren't you?" he asks, his brow
furrowed. "You know you're going to have to work together
pretty closely sometimes."

I swallow the food in my mouth. He has no idea just how
closely I'd like to work with a certain dark haired
Englishman.

"We're fine," I answer, and smile in what I hope is a
reassuring way.

"I wasn't sure if I should take him on or not," Jon muses.

"Yeah? Why?" I ask, immediately interested.

"He came very highly recommended," Jon pauses, as if
thinking.

"So?" I ask, impatient.

"Five years ago he was made up to lieutenant."

I nod, assuming that Mal must be overdue a promotion now.

"Four years ago he was busted back to ensign."

"What? Why?" from what I've seen Mal's a model officer, I
can't imagine why he'd have been busted.

"That's the thing, it doesn't really say on his record, and
no one will tell me anything. He accepted the demotion
without appeal."

"Can't you just ask him?"

"I don't want him to feel that I'm prying, or that I'll
somehow hold it against him. He was re-promoted, and his
service record is otherwise excellent. He'd probably rather
just forget about it, and be happy to let it be a part of
his past."

I nod. I've got a lot of catching up to do with Mal.

By the time I'm walking to his cabin in the evening I've got
a thousand questions buzzing around my head. I ring the door
chime on the one cabin that has its door closed and wait.
Then wait some more. After a few more tries I head for the
nearest comm point.

"Tucker to Reed."

"Reed here, sorry sir, I had no idea of the time. I'll be
with you as soon as possible."

I spend an interesting few minutes examining the walls of
the corridor before the turbolift doors hiss open at the end
of the corridor.

Mal steps out, looking distinctly more dishevelled than he
did when I first saw him. His hands and arms are greasy, and
although he's wiping them on a rag he's really not getting
any cleaner. His uniform already has handprints down it and
dark oil covers one side down his hip and thigh.

His hair is falling in his face slightly, completing the
overall air of someone who's been hard at work. He smiles
widely at me.

Once he reaches his door he examines his hands and chooses
the cleanest finger to punch in his door code.

"Please, sir, come in. I'm afraid I'll have to delay us
further by having a shower, so take a seat."

"Mal, we're off duty, you can drop the 'Sir'," I say.

"Of course," he says in a tone of voice that tells me he
doesn't quite agree.

He pulls a towel from his locker and heads for the small
bathroom.

"I won't be long," he calls over his shoulder.

I listen as water cascades into the small shower stall and
try not to imagine soapy hands sliding over his smooth skin.

He sticks to his word though, and less than five minutes
later he steps back into the room, a towel slung around his
hips, droplets of water running from his hair down his chest
and back. I can see the silver-white lines of scars on his
body, and I wonder for a moment if any of them are from
whatever happened to him before the last time I saw him.

"I suppose if there's one person on board who I shouldn't
worry about modesty with, it's you," he smiles and begins to
dry himself in front of me.

I just watch as he dries, then picks some clothes from his
locker. His body's more muscular than it was last time I saw
him. He's lost all the traces of being a gangly teenager
that carry over into the twenties and his shoulders and
chest have filled out. I guess that as a security officer he
must be responsible for a lot of training too. He's probably
one of the fittest people on board.

He pulls on a pair of Starfleet issue boxers, then some
light coloured pants and a shirt.

I stand and lead the way to one of the more commercial areas
of the station and we get a table in one of the smaller
establishments. It beats eating in some Starfleet run mess
hall. The dim lighting highlights his bone structure, and
although I can see he's tired he looks gorgeous.

"So... how've you been?" I ask, not the most original question,
but a pretty good opening gambit I figure.

"Had my ups and downs," he smiles.

I immediately think of what Jon told me at lunchtime, but I
don't ask - yet. It wouldn't do to make him think his
superior officers spent their lunchtimes prying into his
life.

"You've obviously done well," he smiles, "I believe you were
a lieutenant last time we met."

"How do you know that?" I ask, incredulously. I thought I
was as mysterious as he was back then.

"You had a wardrobe full of uniforms in your apartment," he
points out.

"Oh."

Well, I suppose he wouldn't be much good at his job if he
wasn't observant.

"So... you've obviously come a long way too," I say, vaguely.

He nods. "I did always wonder if we'd meet again, and what
you'd think," he admits.

"You... what were you doing then, then? I mean, when you said
you had plans, I... I don't know, I never imagined you meant
something like this."

He smiles, and his fork suddenly becomes very interesting as
he fiddles with it before answering.

"I wasn't a rent-boy who suddenly decided to strive for
greater things in life. I'd always wanted to join Starfleet,
it was my dream, since I saw the first news broadcasts on
the telly."

"So what happened?" I ask, openly curious now.

"I knew I needed to go to university, so I applied, and got
in... " he pauses, as if thinking. "But when it came to it I
couldn't afford to go." He looks into my eyes, and I can see
even now the pain in his expression.

"What about your family? Couldn't they help out?" I ask,
knowing that my folks did everything they could to make my
education as comfortable as they could for me.

"They didn't... don't... exactly approve. The only way I was going
to afford to take the place on the course was to work. I
tried everything I could think of, but there weren't enough
hours in the day for me to work for the sort of wages that
most students worked for and make a living as well as doing
my coursework. I tried, but I was working instead of
sleeping - my studies suffered."

I nod, and realise how badly I'd underestimated him before.
I mean, I realised he was clever enough to be doing
something with his life other than selling his body, but I
had no idea. I remember the small desk in his room, and the
books that had been strewn across it. All the time I
was... using him, he should have been out partying, doing the
things everyone else gets to do when they're a student.

"What's up with your parents? Seems to me they should be
proud of you. I mean, look at you, you're an officer," I
smile.

"I'm afraid they don't know I am an officer, actually. I did
tell my mother I had joined Starfleet, but I'm not sure she
would have passed on the news."

I shake my head, wondering how anyone could just cut him out
of their life by choice. "What don't they approve of though?
I don't get it."

"Me, Trip. They don't approve of me," he says, bleakly.

"But... " I don't know what to say, except tell him he must be
wrong, that they'd be mad not to love him, support him.

"They don't approve of my choices, my career, my hopes, my
dreams, my preferences... my sexuality."

I nod, although I can't imagine what that would be like.

"What did they want you to do?" I ask, assuming that if they
were so disapproving of his choices, then they must have had
his life pretty planned out for him.

"My father was in the navy. It was always assumed that I
would join up, but I didn't want to. They paid for me to go
to Royal Naval Training College, but I dropped out after one
term. I hated it, but my father put that down to weakness -
not being 'man enough' to cope with the discipline."

"You wanted Starfleet badly enough to go through all that?"
I say, incredulous. I almost feel like a fraud for having it
so easy.

He just nods.

"Didn't you think you were risking a lot? I mean, what if
you'd met up with me... or someone else, during training?"

The drinks waiter brings over the bottle of wine Mal chose,
so the answer to my question has to wait.

Finally we're alone again and Mal toys with his glass,
rolling the stem between his fingers.

"You seemed... different. I thought that maybe, if we'd met
under different circumstances, we could have been friends."
He casts his eyes down. "You seemed to genuinely like me,"
he says in a soft voice.

It makes me want to take him in my arms and hug him. I get
the impression he's got this far in life without much love
or affection from anyone.

We order our food and eat, the conversation mainly kept on
the relatively safe topic of Enterprise, although we both
talk about other ships we've served on too. I wonder if
he'll volunteer any information about his demotion, but
don't want to push the issue.

Then a thought strikes me.

"If you were in Starfleet all this time, why couldn't I find
you when I tried?" I ask.

He looks surprised.

"You tried to find me? When you only knew a shortened
version of my full name?" he smiles a genuine smile,
although whether he's laughing at my folly, or touched by my
optimism, I don't know.

I shrug, trying to make it seem like it was what everyone
would have done.

"I just searched the city records for anyone whose first
name could be shortened to Mal... " I trail off, realising how
silly that sounds.

"Well, you know what Starfleet are like, they're not the
most organised of people, are they?" he says, not meeting my
eyes.

"I've never known them to completely lose a person though,"
I say. "And I would have found you. I looked at every file.
The pictures too."

I hope he doesn't realise just how ridiculously desperate I
was on the night that I spent alone in my quarters doing
just that, staring at every record of every male citizen
with the first initial 'M' in the area, including Starfleet
personnel.

"It was about five or six years ago. What ship were you
serving on? Or where you in R&D?"

"I wasn't on a ship."

I wait for him to expand, but he doesn't.

"You were based on Earth? Or where you on one of the
stations?" I press on.

"Kind of."

This could get old very fast, I decide.

"Kind of what?"

He sighs and gives in. "I was with the SSF."

I nod slowly. Starfleet Special Forces. They're a scary
bunch, the best of the best, Starfleet's only nod toward
being a military organisation. They were originally set up
to safeguard Starfleet's secrets, but there've been rumours
linking them to all sorts of work, on Earth and other
planets, always very hush-hush. He must have seen some heavy
action. And no one who works for the SSF is officially
listed in the personnel record whilst they're active.

"Well, that'd explain it. Not many people get through the
training for SSF."

He gives a little huff of a laugh.

"No. It was... challenging," he admits.

"And from there you went into armoury and tactical?" I ask.

"I have... certain skills which lend themselves to these areas,
yes."

And I'll just bet he does. SSF use the most advanced
technology. I wouldn't want to get in their way.

"You've certainly packed a lot into ten years," I say.

He looks up at me, eyes sparkling, and smiles. I almost
melt.

"At least you now know why I couldn't take you up on your
offer," he says, sounding almost shy.

"Always knew I'd get a reason one day, I just didn't expect
it to take ten years," I smile back.

"I was tempted, you know," he says softly.

I feel my eyes widen. Hope flares in my heart - hope and
sorrow. Hope for the future, and sorrow that I didn't push
harder ten years ago. I immediately dismiss the latter as
being unfair though. He wouldn't be where he is now if he'd
come with me. We wouldn't be here, about to embark on
humanity's first deep-space mission together.

"You didn't show it," I finally say.

"I couldn't. If I'd have let you see even for a second how
much I wanted to accept your offer you would have pushed me.
And I rather think I would have given in."

"You were that close to accepting?" I can't keep the
surprise from my voice.

"That night... yes, I was."

And the image of how I left him comes back to me. Him
sitting, huddled up on himself, battered and bruised.

"What happened?" I ask gently.

"Nothing," he answers, a bit too quickly. "I just took a bit
of a beating."

I try to question him further, but he's not exactly
forthcoming. We make polite discussion before arguing over
who'll pay the bill and leaving.

I invite him back to mine, but he declines. I'm upset, but I
understand when he says he just wants to take things slowly.
And I know I'll see him the next day, it's just not the same
when we're in uniform.

---

By the time I arrive on shift the next morning Mal's already
in the armoury. I know he's on the same shift pattern as me,
so he must be putting in extra hours. When I ask some of the
station staff who've been working for a couple of hours
already they tell me he was in before they started, so I'm
guessing he must have been here before six a.m.

I wander into the armoury to see how he's getting on and
watch him work.

Whatever he does he puts one hundred per cent concentration
into, it seems. I can see why he would come highly
recommended to Jon, but I still can't imagine what he could
have done to get himself a demotion.

Right now he's working on one of the launch shafts. They'll
eventually be used to drop off communication buoys and
launch torpedoes, but right now they're still under
construction. Or at least... I'm sure I was told they'd been
finished. But apparently not.

"Mornin'," I call.

He looks up at me and smiles. "Good morning."

"What are you up to?" I ask.

"The launching system is lagging, and some of these relays
haven't been fitted correctly."

"It's running slow?" I walk over to the access panel he's
working on.

"Not according to the specs that Starfleet provided, but I
know for a fact we could get at least ten percent better
efficiency out of them."

I nod slowly. I'm learning about Malcolm Reed - again. He's
not the kind of man who's going to settle until he's done
the absolute best he can.

"You doing anything for lunch?" I ask.

"I'm afraid so," he answers, "I'm on a half day today."

"Oh?"

"I have a prior engagement." He looks at me, as if trying to
judge me, decide whether to tell me or not.

After a respectable pause I sigh. "And you ain't going to
tell me."

He smiles and gives in. "It's a competition, Shi-Dakahn.
It's a martial art. The competition is being held on the
station."

"Really? Can I watch?" I say, unable to hide my eagerness.

He lowers his head. "I believe you're on duty, commander."

"Not if I can help it. Surely you need someone to cheer you
on?"

He smiles at me, about to answer, when a voice calls out to
us both and I see Jon walking toward us.

"Cap'n," I smile. "I was just talking to the lieutenant. You
know about the competition this afternoon?"

Archer nods. "Of course, Malcolm spoke to me about it to
arrange time off."

"Well we've got to go and watch, Cap'n," I plead. "Show some
support for our crew."

Jon looks amused, and I worry that I've laid it on a bit
thick.

"You think, Trip?"

Mal looks worried, "Really, sir, that's quite unnecessary."

"Actually, Malcolm, I've already got us a couple of seats,
if you don't mind an audience."

Jon smiles at me and I grin back. I really want to show Mal
some support.

"So, Shi - whatever it's called, what's it about?" I ask,
standing shoulder to shoulder with Jon.

Mal gives a tiny smile.

"Shi-Dakahn is a form of combat that uses both empty-hand
and weapons techniques."

"And it's a competition? What for?" I ask.

"The competition has been going on for some months. It's an
inter-forces tournament. This is the final. Each branch of
the forces has hosted a certain number of rounds. As this is
Starfleet's first year competing we are to hold the finals.
And someone at command thought it a good idea to hold it up
here, not on Earth."

"Great. I can't wait. I used to love going to the boxing
with my Daddy when I was a boy," I smile.

Jon laughs, then he begins to walk away, asking me a
question about something on the bridge, so I have to follow.

As I leave I see that Mal's working again, and I smile at
the thought of getting to know another facet of Malcolm
Reed.

---

Jon collects me that afternoon and we walk to the
competition venue together. I know that Mal left earlier, to
meet his coach and prepare.

When we arrive in the large gymnasium it's already pretty
full. We squeeze our way to the seats. They're a few rows
back from the mats, but still close. I wonder how much rank
Jon had to pull to get them at such short notice.

The seating tiers rise up from the mats, creating a bowl
effect. The atmosphere's almost oppressive, with hundreds of
people packed in the area. I can see areas of the crowd
defined by the different uniforms the spectators wear and
the noise of everyone speaking excitedly swells and roars as
the crowds build.

On all four walls large electronic screens show information
on the programme of events. Mal's obviously a star-player,
as his fight seems to have top billing.

We sit and watch the first few fights and both Jon and I are
left speechless by the skill and power each fighter
displays.

As each category is fought and won every battle seems more
amazing than the last.

And as I watch I can feel a knot of worry growing in the pit
of my stomach.

More than a few of the competitors are suffering injuries
from the fights, and there seem to be people employed purely
to wipe the blood from the mats after each round has been
fought.

I lean over to Jon.

"So, have you given Mal the day off tomorrow?" I ask.

Jon shakes his head slowly. "No. And I can't afford to lose
him for a day either."

"Why didn't you tell them we couldn't spare Mal?"

I'm beginning to wish he had refused to let Mal attend; I
don't want to see him get hurt.

"It wasn't up to me, Trip," Jon whispers. "Malcolm's been
one of Starfleet's stars in hand to hand combat and the
Admiralty weren't about to let him go without bagging them
this last trophy."

"Even if he could get hurt?" I can't help but let some of
the worry show in my voice.

Jon looks at me, and he's clearly amused.

"He's done it before, Trip, many times," he says, as if
talking to a child.

I settle in my seat, trying to look as if I'm not sulking.

I'm still nervous.

About half an hour later it's finally Mal that walks onto
the mat. He looks stunning. He has a tight black top on with
the Starfleet logo on his chest and some black heavy cotton
trousers. One of his hands is wrapped in black tape, and a
tight black bandana is around his head. He looks dangerous.

His opponent is a far larger man. More stockily built. I
shift in my seat, moving to get a better look.

"He's gonna get killed," I breathe, almost to myself.

"Don't underestimate him, Trip," Jon says quietly.

And I know I shouldn't. He wasn't bragging when he said he'd
fought those people off, and that was ten years ago. If he
fights for Starfleet he must be good.

The two of them perform a complex bowing movement, then
retreat behind taped lines on the mat.

They are each handed a black bag, about four feet long and
very slim.

I look at Jon. This hasn't happened in any of the previous
fights. Jon shrugs.

The two men remove the bags with a flourish, revealing dull
shining weapons. They're like short staffs, metal, I think.
They look weighty as both men prepare to fight by hefting
them into position.

The referee makes a hand signal and calls something out.
Both men immediately move.

They circle each other warily, like animals. I'm on the edge
of my seat, hands clenched. The fear inside me is like
nothing I've ever felt before.

Then Mal makes the first real attacking move. He performs a
series of rapid spinning kicks, three of them connecting
with the head of his opponent who staggers backward under
the onslaught.

Then the fight starts in earnest. I wince as hands feet and
metal hit flesh. Some of the noises are truly sickening.
Both men grunt as the blows rain down.

"How come they get weapons?" I finally say as a particularly
vicious blow gets Mal in the face.

The man on the other side of Jon leans toward me.

"They're the only Do-Shi here," he says, as if that explains
it all.

"Do-Shi?" I ask, looking at Jon, to see if Mal explained any
of this to him.

"It means 'Master'" the man says helpfully. "They both hold
the highest grade you can. That's why they're top billing in
the competition."

Somehow it doesn't surprise me that Mal is the best.

"But if it's just a competition... how come they're hurting
each other?"

The man laughs. "This is about more than the medals, at
least for those two. This goes back years."

I remember how Mal looked the day I last saw him in San
Francisco and anger bubbles up inside of me. I could be
looking at the man who did that to Mal.

"You mean they've done this before?" I ask.

The man shakes his head. "You don't know this game at all,
do you?" he says, then won't say another word.

I watch in silence as the two men in front of us try to kill
each other. I just can't understand why anyone would want to
do what they're doing. I want to jump up and stop the
madness. I can see Mal's hurting... both of them are. Their
movements have slowed, both are visibly panting.

This fight is lasting far longer than the others - the crowd
is baying for blood. I sense Jon shifting in his seat next
to me. He's clearly almost as uncomfortable as I am.

Eventually, after five bloody rounds, the fight is stopped.
It's declared a draw, neither man showing a clear advantage.

They bow to each other at the end and Mal Looks upset as
he's led away from the ring.

The crowd aren't happy. It seems most people think the fight
should have carried on until one of them won. Probably by a
knockout, the way it was looking.

Jon and I try to get back to the changing rooms to check on
Mal, but we're refused entry. Jon tries to exert some
senior-officer pressure, but it doesn't work.

We're forced to retreat back to Enterprise and wait it out
in the end.

Every fibre of my being wants to be with Mal, so I try and
comm him every quarter of an hour, waiting for him to
return.

---

After about two hours there's still no reply. I walk to his
quarters and try the door. He doesn't answer, so I'm just
about to walk away when I notice some small red smears on
the keypad. It's blood.

I hammer on the door before finally reverting to my
engineering background and pulling the control panel off the
wall. A few seconds later I've hotwired the electrics and
the door slides open.

I hear the shower running - and suddenly hope that I haven't
just overreacted monumentally and broken into Mal's cabin
when he was just having a wash.

The door to the tiny bathroom is open, so I cautiously
approach it.

"Mal? Mal, are you all right?" I call out, tentatively.

The sound of falling water is all that answers me.

I take a few steps forward and look into the room. Through
the frosted glass I can see a figure on the floor of the
shower.

I pull the door open and see Mal, he's hugging his knees,
head resting on his arms.

The water is cascading down on him, and as I hunker down
next to him I realise it's running cold.

"Mal?"

I reach to turn the water off, then grab a towel from the
rail.

"You must be freezing," I murmur, not sure if he can hear me
or not.

As I wrap the towel around his shoulders he looks up at me.
His eyes are glazed and he looks groggy.

"Trip?"

He sounds confused.

"What are you doing here?"

I reach out and push his wet hair from his forehead.

"Just came to see how you were doing."

I notice a trail of diluted blood is running down one side
of his face and he looks battered and bruised. His lower lip
is swollen, and I wonder if that's why he sounds slurred.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here, into something
warm. Otherwise you'll freeze to death."

I gently help him up, aware that he's probably hurting
elsewhere too. I suck in a breath as I see bands of bruising
across his body, obviously caused by the weapon.

I step backward, holding his arms, and my foot hits
something that rolls across the floor.

I glance down and see an empty hypospray on the floor.

"Mal? Did you take that?" I ask, gesturing.

He glances down and I can see him trying to focus on what
I'm pointing at. He finally nods.

"What is it?" I ask, worried at the state he's in, and
thinking I should call for a doctor.

"Just a pain shot," he mumbles.

"Have you seen a doctor?" I ask, worried.

"Doctor gave it to me. 's okay."

I sigh. He's a grown man, I have to trust him, even though
all I want to do is protect him.

He dries himself off half-heartedly as I close his door,
before I lead him to his bunk. It's still covered in his
clothing from the fight, so I move it all.

The last item I pick up is the bag containing the weapon.

The material is so soft and velvety I almost can't believe
that it contains a weapon. As I lift it I can feel that the
weapon is perfectly weighted. I look to Mal's body and can't
believe he would volunteer to do such a stupid thing. Why
would he let himself be hurt? I don't understand him
sometimes.

"That's an Akh-do," Mal says quietly from the bunk.

I look at him, broken from my thoughts. "I can't believe-" I
stop and reign in my temper. He doesn't need me on his back
now.

I start again.

"Why do you do it?" I ask softly, sitting down on the end of
the bunk.

He shifts a little, not meeting my eyes.

"Because it's for Starfleet," he says.

"Why though? It obviously hurts - I thought I was going to
see a show, you know? You two trying to out-skill each
other."

"It was," he answers defensively.

I shake my head. I know I won't get any answers I'll
understand, and I don't want to push him, not while he's
like this.

"Get some sleep, I'll come back later." I pull his blankets
around him, then stroke a hand through his still-damp hair.

He nods. "If you fix my door-lock, I'll tell you my code."

I see a small smile on his face and can't help but grin
back.

"It's a deal."

I get back to engineering, and after a short time Jon comes
down and asks if I know how Mal's doing.

I give him a vague report, not wanting to let him know how
close Mal and I are. I think he's putting two and two
together though. Although I think he's making something more
around the three-and-a-half mark. He seems to realise Mal
and I are good friends, and I'm starting to think it's only
a matter of time before he realises just how good.

I finish my shift on time for once - no late nights tonight.
I punch in Mal's door code, smiling at the trust it shows he
has in me.

The room is dimly lit, but Mal's not in the bed. He seems to
be in some sort of contorted position on the floor and for
one horrible moment I think something is wrong.

Then he looks up at me.

"Commander."

"What are you doing? You should be in bed!" I go to help him
up.

"I'm just stretching out. Trying to free up some of the
kinks."

He slides smoothly into the splits and rests his head on his
knee.

I wince just watching, but I guess he knows what he's doing.

His muscles flex under his skin, his bare back showing his
ribs too.

I can see where more bruising has come out on his arms and
torso. I don't know how he's even moving, let alone doing
exercise. There's a deep graze across the side of his rib
cage and I remember the other man using his weapon to stab
at Mal. I presume Mal didn't side-step fast enough.

Once he looks like he's done I reach out and pull him up to
standing.

"So, how are you feeling now?" I ask as he leans back
against the desk.

"Fine." He gives me a lopsided smile, the cuts on his lip
still clearly visible. "Thank you for earlier. I was getting
a little cold."

"You seemed pretty far gone," I say cautiously. I look into
the bathroom and see that the hypospray has been moved.

"Yes." He looks at the floor.

He is so gorgeous. Irresistible. So I don't resist.

I stand up and take two steps toward him, put a finger under
his chin and gently kiss his mouth, trying to avoid the
injuries.

There's a millisecond when he doesn't respond. Then he leans
into me, kissing me back. His lips open, inviting my tongue
inside.

I feel a hand slide around my waist, pulling our bodies
closer together.

I can feel Mal's erection pressing through the thin material
of his sweat pants. I respond, pushing against him as he
groans and kisses my neck.

"I want you," he whispers in my ear, his hot breath making
me shudder.

I've been waiting ten years for this - now I can't wait
another moment. Neither can he apparently. He pulls at the
zipper on my uniform and shoves it back off my shoulders,
never breaking our kiss.

I run my hands down his back. His skin is smooth, like satin
beneath my palms. I push my fingers inside the waistband of
his pants, pulling his butt toward me.

Mal's hands have found their way into my shorts and he looks
me straight in the eye as he takes my hard cock in his hand.

"I want you in me, right now," he says in a husky whisper.

I swallow. There's an animal need in his eyes, and I'm sure
it's reflected in my own gaze. He discards his pants and
sits back on the desk, legs spread, and hair messed, open to
me.

He reaches for me and pulls me between his legs, kissing me.

"What about lube?" I ask.

In answer he reaches onto the shelf over his desk and hands
me a pot of barrier cream. He pulls the top off and scoops
some out onto his fingertips, then takes a hold of my dick,
smoothing the cold cream onto me. Then he rests the tip
against the entrance to his body and looks me in the eye.

"Now."

He wraps his legs around me and grips me hard, forcing me
inside him. I can't help but watch as my cock slides inside
him. It feels so good. Better than I remember.

I glance up at him and he catches me in a hard kiss.

Every part of my body strains for his touch, I want to touch
him everywhere, kiss him, hold him to me. Ten years I've
been waiting for this. For him. For us.

As I start to thrust we pant into each other's mouths,
neither of us breaking the kiss. Only the sound of
inarticulate sighs and moans breaking the intensity of the
silence, indicating our passion.

I obviously hit the sweet spot as Mal suddenly gasps and
throws his head back, exposing his throat. I move with him,
kissing and sucking on his neck. I can feel his pulse
beating wildly as I lick the delicate skin.

I hold him tightly, my hand on the small of his back,
pulling him toward me as I try to thrust further inside him.

I reach between us and wrap my hand around his dick, pumping
him in the same rhythm as I set for myself.

We both breathe in rough gasps and our movements become more
erratic. Suddenly Mal's body goes rigid and he holds me
tightly, looking into my eyes as his hot semen spreads
between us.

I think it's the most erotic thing I've ever experienced. I
come, hard, staring into his storm grey eyes, trying not to
break eye contact.

We stay as we are, him sitting on the edge of the desk, arms
and legs wrapped around me, me standing, uniform around my
ankles, both leaning on each other as we get our breath
back.

After a few minutes he looks up at me.

"That was amazing." He runs a hand down my chest.

I smile and kiss him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I'm worried that I took him
without proper lube.

"Not at all." He shifts and I feel my softening dick slip
free of his body. "I might benefit from a shower though.

He slowly stretches his legs and stands in front of me,
reaching up for a kiss.

"If you manage to disentangle yourself from that mess you
might want to join me," he gestures to my uniform.

I hop to the bunk, then kick off my boots and scramble out
of my uniform as fast as I can as I hear him turn the shower
on.

Once we're both in the small shower stall he reverently
washes me all over, kissing any part of me he can reach. I
return the favour, paying extra attention to every bruise,
scrape and cut.

Once we're done and dry we lie on his bunk together, wrapped
in each other. His head rests on my chest and I trace random
patterns on his bicep. He's reading something on a padd,
sprawled across me.

It's great to be able to relax, warm and comfortable with
someone you love. Not that either of us have uttered the L
word. Not yet.

I glance at the padd as he shifts and begins to tap data
into it.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just looking at some weapons specs."

He pauses for a while, then carries on as if he never
stopped speaking. "I've been checking the crew's training
records too."

I raise an eyebrow, silently questioning.

"I've noticed that very few of the crew have any military
training," he continues.

I nod. I haven't got any myself, really. "Enterprise isn't a
warship," I say.

"No, but still, we're going to be exploring. We can't be as
naïve as to think every species we come across will be
well-intentioned."

"You mean you're worried we'll meet some big nasty-ass ol'
aliens?" I drawl.

He looks at me with a sexy half-smile that he's obviously
trying to make look pitying. "I believe that's what I said,
Mister Tucker, yes."

"So what can you do about it?" I ask.

"I thought I might approach the captain with some training
plans. I'd rather not leave spacedock with fewer than half
the crew able to operate a particle weapon."

I kiss his head. "I suppose you've had a lot of experience,"
I murmur into his hair.

He nods slightly. "Too much."

"You learn all that Do-Shi stuff in the SSF then?" I ask,
changing the subject.

"Mal shakes his head. "It's the art of Shi-Dakahn. I became
a Do-Shi three years ago."

"Right. A guy in the crowd was trying to explain to Jon and
me."

"It works on many of the same principles as other martial
arts. The head band signifies the level achieved."

"And the wrist band?" I ask, remembering Mal when he was in
the ring.

"That's just a support. I've dislocated my thumb a few times
in previous fights."

"And the stick? How come you get that when no-one else
does?"

"Only Do-Shi can carry an Ahk-Do," he says, as if that
explains everything. "Other weapons can be used by lower
skill levels, but as they differ from place to place it was
felt the competition would be fairer if it were empty-hand.

He looks over to the desk and stands in a fluid movement. He
walks to where I've moved his things to and picks up the
Akh-Do. Then he walks to the closet and takes out a black
box - it's a good five feet tall, at least. He lays it next
to me on the bed and flicks open the catches.

Inside is an impressive array of weaponry. All sorts of
staffs, swords and other lethal looking things. He places
the Ahk-Do in an empty slot where it nestles in the velvet.
It's precise and neat, just like the rest of Mal's things.

As he begins to shut the case I lay a hand on it, stopping
him.

"Tell me about them?" I ask, wanting to get another glimpse
of him, this man I'm in love with.

He gives me a small smile and sits on the bunk, explaining
each item to me.

---

The next morning I awake to an empty bed. I open an eye -
the lights are on, but very dim.

I move and see Mal standing in the bathroom. I can see his
back and one perfect buttock, so I admire the view, waiting
for Mal to come back to bed.

I watch as Mal moves, lifting that damn hypospray to his
neck and discharging the contents.

"Mal? You okay?" I call as I sit up.

He looks around the door, the hypospray conspicuous by it's
absence. "Fine. Did I wake you?"

"No. I thought I heard you using a hypospray. Are you
hurting?"

He drops his gaze. "No, just a little stiff, you know? From
the fight."

I stand up, frowning. "You should see a doctor."

"It's all prescribed, Trip. The doctor gave it to me." He
walks over to me and kisses me.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? I mean, with what we did last
night?"

"No," he smiles self-consciously. "I'll be thinking of you
occasionally, but I might rather enjoy those memories."

I hug him and kiss him back, not letting go. "I'll be
thinking of you too," I say softly.

We both leave for our shifts early. I meet Jon for breakfast
again, before I get to work in engineering. I've only been
in for about ten minutes when Mal walks in. He approaches me
confidently.

"Mister Tucker, I was wondering if I could borrow another
multi-meter."

There's not hint of what we were doing just an hour or so
before, just cool professionalism.

"Sure thing. There's a spare just over there," I nod toward
the benches.

As I turn away I'm grabbed and, for a breathless second,
thoroughly kissed. Then Mal turns smartly on his heel and
walks away from me to fetch the kit.

"Thank you, Commander," he calls as he leaves.

I stay frozen to the spot, my mouth hanging open, then
quickly glance around to see that none of my crew are
looking in my direction.

I don't think he'll ever stop surprising me.

That night we have dinner at my place, on the station.

It's only a small apartment, a tiny kitchen and a bathroom
off the sitting room and a bed that folds out of the sofa.

We share the cooking, then pick a movie from the database
and curl up together.

I'm glad that something's keeping Jon out of the way. I
don't want to have to share Mal just yet. I does make me
think about Jon though, and the prospect of telling him
about Mal and me.

"Mal?" I say, tracing a line up and down his stomach.

"Mmm?"

"I was wondering... " I stop, hesitating.

"What?" he asks, after I've let the silence lengthen.

"Well, how we're gonna... tell people. You know, about us?"

I feel his body stiffen and he moves to look at me.

"Tell people?"

"Yeah, you know, the cap'n, and... well, people. It's a small
ship, secrets never stay secret long."

He looks terrified, although he's obviously trying to hide
it.

"I... I didn't think we'd need to tell people," he finally
says.

"You don't want other people to know how happy we are?" I
say, hugging him more closely.

He pulls away from me and sits silently, obviously thinking.
I'm starting to learn that this usually results in some
personal revelation. It's as if he needs the intervening
silence to distance himself from what he's about to say.

"I've experienced... unfavourable reactions to relationships in
the past. Especially from superior officers."

I reach out to him. "I love you, you know."

He looks back at me, his eyes unreadable.

But he doesn't reply.

For a long moment the silence gains the upper hand. Then Mal
leans over to me, kissing me; his lips and tongue speaking
without words. And I can't help but respond. I want to talk,
want to ask him what happened. But Mal obviously hasn't
forgotten some of the tricks of his old trade. His powers of
distraction are as good as ever.

We're all over each other, film forgotten, everything
forgotten except the two of us.

We remove all our clothes - fumbling with zips and buttons.
I lie on top of Mal, our lips and cocks touching. I feel his
hand on my back, one sliding over my butt. He pulls me
against him, kneading the flesh.

"I want you," he pants, "Want to bury myself inside you."

I swallow. I've still never bottomed, even after all this
time.

Somehow it never felt right; I've never wanted another man
like I wanted Mal. I've never trusted anyone like I trust
him either.

"I haven't... I mean, I've never, you know," I stutter.

He stops kissing me, pulling back just a little so he can
see me.

"You've never had someone take you?" he strokes a hand
through my hair.

I shake my head.

He kisses me gently, then murmurs against my lips, "Boy,
have you been missing out."

He makes me lie on my front. I remember what he did to me
all those years ago. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Lube?" he asks.

"Yeah, in the bathroom," I gesture. At least I'm a little
more prepared this time.

"And some oil?"

I frown. "No, I don't have any."

"You sure?" he kisses me on the shoulder and trails his hand
down my back as he heads off to find what he wants.

He returns a few seconds later brandishing a tube of
lubricant and a bottle of cooking oil.

"What's that for?" I ask, wondering what he's got in mind.

"The most important thing is for you to relax and enjoy
yourself."

He straddles my thighs and I grin, twisting to try and see
what he's doing.

He pours some oil into his hand before rubbing it between
his palms. Then he begins to gently massage my shoulders and
back.

I sigh and rest my head on my arms. He's very good at this -
finding knots and gently working them out, making me truly
relax for the first time in ages.

Once or twice he stops, only to begin again with more oil.
He moves and works his way down each of my arms, even
massaging every finger individually. He repeats the
performance with my legs, then encourages me to roll over
onto a towel he's thoughtfully put down.

He sits at the bottom of the bed cross-legged and pulls my
right foot into his lap, massaging it thoroughly, looking up
at me.

"How're you feeling?"

"Wunnerful," I drawl. I can feel my dick filling out as I
watch what he's doing, his warm hands rubbing over me.

"Relaxed?"

"Uh-hu," I nod.

"Ready to move on to the next step?" he asks, putting down
my right foot and lifting my left.

"Definitely."

"Firstly I'm just going to relax your muscles. It might feel
a bit strange at first. I'll only be using my fingers, but
if anything hurts you've got to tell me, okay?"

I nod, not wanting to think about it too much.

He rolls me onto my front again and gentle runs a hand down
over my butt, kissing each cheek. Then he strokes one slick
finger down my crack and I immediately feel myself tense.
It's not that it doesn't feel nice, but I'm not used to
anyone else touching me there. It's an odd feeling.

Mal obviously feels my reaction and he goes back to stroking
his open palm over my buttocks, planting the odd kiss on me.

Then he shifts, putting his lips over my hole and gently
sucking and licking.

It feels... wrong. That he should be there, doing that.

He pauses for a moment, still stroking with his hands.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Mm." I grunt, not wanting to tell him how I feel.

"I love doing this," he says, swiping his tongue over me and
making me jump, because it does feel good, when I'm not
thinking about the mechanics of his mouth over my ass hole.
"It's very intimate. Very special." He licks again, and this
time I try and stay relaxed. "Just think about how much I'm
enjoying it," he says, and I can hear the smile in his
voice.

It helps, him telling me he likes doing it. And I try to let
go of all that I was taught about stuff like this being
dirty and nasty, I try to focus on the feeling of him.

I feel something cool replacing his tongue after a while,
and as I feel a slight pressure I realise he's pushing a
finger inside of me.

"Just relax, Trip. Keep breathing."

He rubs a hand up and down my back in long soothing strokes,
and it distracts me slightly from what's going on elsewhere.

Once I can feel his hand up against my ass he stops for a
second.

"How does it feel? Okay?"

I nod. I'm not about to tell him it feels like I badly need
a shit. I mean, I may not be the most romantic person in the
world, but even I can see how that would break the mood. "It
just feels... strange," I say, as diplomatically as I can.

I feel the pressure return and wonder what he's doing now,
but it still doesn't hurt.

"That's two fingers now, Trip," he says.

I'm not sure I'm going to rave about it like other people
do, but I guess it's not bad. If Mal wants to do this
sometimes I can live with that. He seems to enjoy being on
this end of things well enough, so I guess we can both stay
happy.

I feel Mal move slightly and I think he's changed the angle
he's working at, from the feel of his remaining fingers
outside me.

Then he touches something inside me and I almost jump out of
my skin. He works his fingers and wave after wave of
pleasure wash over me.

"Oh God, oh Mal," I breathe, wanting more of him to touch
the sweet spot. I begin to wriggle, trying to guide him,
trying to get more of that feeling.

"That feels good, does it?" he asks, and I can hear the
almost-teasing note in his voice.

"Mmm, yeah, God, feels so good." I know I'm babbling, but I
just want more of him.

"Ready for another finger?"

I nod, biting my lip, wanting all of him, not just another
finger.

Then, as he works his three fingers into me I suddenly feel
like I'm cramping up and let out a little grunt of pain.

Mal must guess that I'm hurting, because he stops the
movement and rubs my lower back again.

"We don't have to go all the way, not if it's not what you
want. We won't do anything you're not comfortable with," he
says soothingly.

"No, I want to, I really want to." I want to do anything to
get that feeling of a minute ago back.

"You think you're ready?" he asks.

I nod hesitantly. I know he won't hurt me, but that doesn't
stop me being a little nervous.

"If I hurt you, tell me. I'll go very slowly. Just get used
to each little bit like you have with my fingers."

"Okay," I nod and take a deep breath, trying to relax.

"Kneel up, face the wall, use it to brace yourself," he
says, then kisses my shoulder once I'm in position.

"This will give you some control," he says as he positions
himself behind me.

I watch over my shoulder as he squeezes yet more lube onto
his hand and slides his rock-hard dick through his slick
palm. It suddenly looks very big. Far too big.

He looks into my eyes and obviously sees the worry.

"It'll be okay. Tell me if you want me to stop."

I nod, then turn back and face the wall as I feel him
position the head of his cock against my body.

The pressure is greater this time, but not too
uncomfortable. It's steady until suddenly there's a tiny
stab of pain and he stops moving, resting his forehead on my
shoulder.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Sure," I answer, and it really is. It doesn't feel anything
like as full as I thought it would.

"Ready for the rest?"

I gulp. "The rest? How far in are you?"

"Just the head. You feel so good. Just a few more inches to
go." He's obviously trying to make me feel better, because I
know Mal's packing more than a few inches.

It definitely won't fit.

Mal begins pushing, gently rocking in and out, pushing a
little more each time.

"You feel amazing Trip," he says as he reaches round and
takes my dick in his still-slippery hand. He pumps his fist
on me in time with his own movements, giving me something
else to focus on.

After what seems like an age - and when I'm pretty sure
Mal's cock must be a good few feet long - he finally reaches
up and whispers huskily into my ear.

"How does that feel? That's all of me. Every bit inside your
tight hot body."

I shudder. "Feels... full. Good though. Is it okay for you?"

"I feel like I'm closer to you than ever before," he kisses
my neck. "Feel like we're really together." He pauses, and I
can feel his hot breath on my skin. Then he moves slightly.
"Ready to carry on?"

I nod, and Mal pulls out before gently thrusting back inside
me. He makes a small moaning noise and I find it incredibly
erotic. He wraps an arm around my chest as a counterpoint to
the one already around my hip.

On about the third thrust he hits the spot and I feel as my
entire body reacts.

He continues regardless, hitting it every time now. I feel
like I'm about to explode, it's almost too much pleasure.

When Mal reaches up and pulls on my earlobe with his teeth
it's too much and I come harder than I ever have before,
feeling my semen add to the heat of his hand around my cock.

I drop my head back, panting loudly, half groaning at the
amazing feeling still pulsing through me.

I can hear Mal's breathing too, so I turn my head and plant
a half-kiss against his hair.

"You... came?" I ask.

"When you did," he looks up and smiles in a dopey way.

Then he removes his now-sticky hand from me and brings it up
to his lips, sucking a finger. He watches me watching him,
then holds out the next cum-covered digit to me. I lick it,
tasting a combination of me and the lube.

He gently pulls out of me, leaving me feeling very empty and
wet. He doesn't let go of me though, instead pulling me down
into a hug on the bed.

"You might feel a touch of discomfort tomorrow," he says.

"It was worth it," I smile, earning myself a kiss.

We snuggle together, enjoying the warmth. I can't help but
trace my finger over the darkening bruises on his body,
although he doesn't seem at all concerned by his injuries.

"Never thought losing my virginity would be so good," I say
quietly, smiling at him.

Mal stays silent.

"How'd you lose yours?" I ask, gathering Mal in my arms so
his head rests on my chest.

He pauses for a second, then shrugs. "Boarding school.
Nothing special, no-one special."

"Oh." I'm not quite sure what to say, so I half-change the
subject. "I didn't know you went to boarding school."
Although maybe I could have guessed. "Was that back in
England?"

He nods. "I was born in Malaysia, but I was schooled in
England. I spent most of my summers in Asia."

"Seeing your folks? I used to love summer, all that time to
spend seeing my family. Spending all my days outdoors," I
reminisce.

"I used to spend time with our nanny, yes. Although Mother
would try and spend time with us most weeks."

"Most weeks?" I can't help but let an incredulous tone into
my voice.

"Yes. She and father would try to take a week off at some
point too."

"What about your other holidays, Thanksgiving and
Christmas?" I ask.

He laughs a little. "We don't have thanksgiving in England.
And I spent Christmas at school. Although some years other
relatives would take us."

"You'd be at school for Christmas?"

I can't believe anyone would miss out on Christmas with
their family.

"To be honest, I preferred it. I hated going to my parent's,
although I did enjoy exploring the places they lived in."

"It was that bad?" I ask softly.

He shrugs. "I wanted independence, respect, I wanted to do
well. Being with my father took all of those things away
from me."

"Oh, Mal," I kiss the top of his head, not knowing what to
say. "You'll have to come and meet my parents."

"They know you're bisexual?" he sounds surprised.

"No, but as soon as I tell them. Mom'll go crazy for you."

"I wish I could say the same," he says softly, then twists
around to look at me. "You must understand that it doesn't
reflect on you, but on their own narrow-mindedness."

I nod, touched that he would think to reassure me.

"What about youe siblings? You made it sound like you weren't
the only child."

"No, I have a sister, Madelaine. I believe she might like
you."

The soft smile that touches his lips shows that he at least
has someone in his family who he obviously likes and gets on
with.

"What does she do?" I ask, interested.

"She's a professor of marine biology. Last I heard she was
running a research project in some reef somewhere," Mal
answers.

"She's a... so she went to university too?" I ask, wondering if
she's had to do anything like her brother.

"Yes." Mal doesn't expand. I hardly expected him to.

We fall asleep in each other's arms. It somehow managed to
turn into the early hours before we noticed.

---

The next morning the comm system chirps ridiculously early,
and I roll over to answer it.

It's Jon, telling me something about aliens and Enterprise
leaving early. I'm half concentrating, but Mal's kissing my
back, his hands wandering over my body. I desperately want
to tell Jon that whatever it is can wait until I've ravished
his armoury officer.

But as soon as Jon cuts the connection, instead of a last
few sleepy minutes snuggling, Mal's up and dressing.

"Where're you going?" I ask.

"If we're to leave early I have a lot to do. We don't, as
yet, have any weapons on Enterprise that could harm a fly."

---

And that's it. That message from Jon marks the end of our
getting any time together. I move my things onto Enterprise,
with Mal's help, then I don't see him again until he crawls
into his bunk at just gone three in the morning.

With my belongings all in boxes we decided it made more
sense to stay in Mal's quarters. I had assumed that meant
I'd get a nice warm lieutenant to sleep with - and for three
and a half hours I do, then, at six-thirty, he crawls out of
bed again.

I assume he's going to use the bathroom, but when I next
open an eye he's dressing whilst leaning over the console on
his desk.

"Mal? What you doing?" I drawl sleepily.

"I'm sorry," he leans over and kisses my forehead, "I
promised I'd be back in the armoury for seven."

"You only just got here," I protest.

"I know, but I'm not about to leave a bunch of gamma shift
fitters putting in our only phase cannon."

And he's gone again.

I follow his example, struggling out of bed and going back
to engineering, spurred on by Mal's dedication.

We're all working hard, but as the warp five engine is the
whole point of Enterprise, I suppose she's got more
attention than the other departments, so to be honest, she's
pretty much ready to fly. I'm mainly sorting out the
ordering of all the bits we're going to need to keep her
running in peak condition, as well as supervising the bigger
engineering projects. At the moment it's a close run thing
as to whether Enterprise will leave space dock with a fully
working galley, and I for one don't relish taking her on her
first mission with a crew fed only on Starfleet ration
packs.

I'm not entirely sure what Jon's up to, but I know he's
rounding up crew and I guess he's involved with the top
brass trying to work out exactly what we're about to do.

He tries to keep in touch, and it rather looks like we're
going to be leaving sooner not later.

---

I catch up with Mal in the mess hall sometime in the
afternoon. He has a mug of coffee in his hand and is
obviously not intending to stop.

"Mal, stop, sit down," I say as I grab his arm.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Commander." He tries to turn away.

"I haven't seen you for days. Please, just sit down for five
minutes."

"Trip, I would love to, you know I would, but right now I
have to align the targeting scanners."

He obviously notices the sad look on my face.

"Look - dinner, at twenty hundred hours, or as soon as I can
make it. Okay?"

I smile, relenting. "I'll hold you to it, Lieutenant."

"I rather thought you might."

He glances around, and seeing the coast is clear he reaches
out and squeezes my hand. "You have my permission to come
and drag me out of the armoury if I don't show."

That means a lot to me. I know he wants to spend the time
together as much as I do really, but I also appreciate that
our lives are currently run by our duties.

I end up heading toward the armoury at twenty fifteen
anyway. I'm sure he's just caught up with some project and
hasn't noticed the time, but as I was given permission to
fetch him I may as well.

I walk in and look around, but he's no-where to be seen.

I call out to one of the fitting crew.

"Crewman, have you seen Lieutenant Reed?"

The man frowns. "The English one? I think he went to
sickbay, sir."

I swallow and a horrible cold feeling moves across my skin
and scalp. "Sickbay?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry I don't know the details, but I've only
just come on shift."

I thank the man and all but run to sickbay.

When I get there Mal's sitting on the edge of a biobed, his
right hand cradled in a whole pile of dressings on his lap.
There's a medic hovering nearby.

"Lieutenant?" All I want to do is run over and hug him, but
the one word is all I allow myself.

His eyes meet mine and the small sorry smile he gives me
tells me more than words could.

"Commander, I'm sorry. I should have informed you I would be
late for our appointment."

I wave a hand dismissively.

"What happened?" I ask, leaning up against the side of the
bed, trying to look like any superior officer checking up on
one of his men.

"I was working on the launch system when one of the
mechanisms malfunctioned. I'm afraid I wasn't following
correct safety procedure." He glances down at his hand.

"Bad?" I ask, worried.

"No, I'll be fine in a few hours."

Then the medic lifts away the cold pack and I see how
swollen and bloody Mal's index and middle finger are.

"As soon as the swelling goes down, sir, then we'll close
the wounds," the medic says to him.

He nods, and I'm sure he's not telling anyone just how
painful it must be.

"Any chance of letting me go and get some food, if I promise
to return in an hour or so?" he asks.

She doesn't exactly look amused, but once she's sorted him
out with more cold packs and a sling she shoos us both out.

As soon as we're out of sight of everyone I slide a hand
around his waist.

"How are you really?" I ask.

"Fine. She gave me a pain shot before setting the bones and
using the regenerator.

And now I know just how much he was underplaying his injury.

"You broke them?" I say, sounding incredulous.

He closes his eyes for a second, as if inwardly kicking
himself for letting that bit of information slip.

"It's a piece of equipment designed to hurl items into
space. Even its peripheral systems exert rather a lot of
force when in motion."

I sigh. "Sounds like I'm lucky to still have all of the bits
of you that I had this morning."

He gives a weak grin.

We reach the mess and I make him sit down whilst I fetch
some food. I figure pasta should sustain him if he intends
to continue working, which, knowing him, he does.

We sit by a window, looking out on the spacedock.

I hand Mal his fork and we tuck in, his right hand now on
the table, sandwiched between two cold packs.

"So, how are things in general?" I ask.

"Slower than I'd like, but we're getting there," he answers,
sounding tired.

"No-one else putting in the hours you need 'em to?" I ask,
worried that he's having problems with the fitting teams.

"Oh, no, they are, they are. But we need more crew, more
time, more equipment." He shrugs.

"So, if we do leave in a day or two, will you be ready - I
mean, will the armoury?"

He snorts. "No, not as ready as I believe we should be, but
I don't suppose that will matter."

"What won't matter?" I ask, confused.

He stops and puts his fork down.

"The captain has made it perfectly clear that we will go,
regardless of my views," he sighs. "And whilst that may make
my job harder, it may save the Warp Five project, and, more
importantly, a life. Potentially many lives."

I nod. I guess, as a tactician, Mal is used to weighing up
the pros and cons and continually re-evaluating situations
and making the best of them.

I run a foot up Mal's calf.

"I know you'll do your best, my little apple dumpling," I
tease, smiling at the look of shock he gives at my
endearment.

"Shall we refrain from the nicknames whilst on duty,
Commander?" he says, although he's smiling.

"You don't like it?" I feign shock.

"Not unless I can reciprocate, cupcake."

I snort, glad that he's up to joking.

"We should get you back to sickbay before they send out a
search party. You've got a date with a regenerator."

He's back at work an hour later, against all medical advice.

I try to get to see him more - after all, being chief
engineer I figure I should oversee the work.

But when I finally reach his quarters at midnight, after a
small disagreement with a bunch of power couplings, he's not
there.

I change into jeans and a shirt, then head back to the
armoury, determined to make him take a break.

He's leaning over a console, sleeves rolled up and the top
buttons of his black undershirt undone. He looks gorgeous,
but absolutely shattered.

I walk up behind him, taking advantage of the fact it's
quiet at this time of night, with only the Gamma shift
around.

"Come to bed with me," I whisper.

He glances at me. "I'd love to."

"What are you waiting for then?" I slide my hand over his
and squeeze.

He flinches away, and at first I think it's because we're in
such a public place, but as he pulls his hand close to his
chest and starts rubbing it I realise he's still hurting.

"Bed. Now." I whisper, then stand back, waiting.

He quickly finishes what he was doing and puts a few things
away. Then he has a word with the crew chief of the current
fitting squad. And we're finally on the way to his quarters.

Once there I strip his uniform off of him and shove him in
the direction of the shower. I notice that the bruising on
his body is fading rapidly, and I wonder if there's
something else in those hypo shots he was taking, as well as
a painkiller.

I find a towel for him, then climb into his bunk. I look
around the small room. He hasn't unpacked anymore than I
have - the room is pretty much empty. But I don't know where
the rest of his things can be stored. My place is full of my
boxes. I guess he could have some things in storage on the
station still, if they were transported up.

He emerges from the shower and snags the towel I left him.
As he dries himself he tidies away a few things - although
the place could never be called messy. He picks up my
uniform and folds it neatly, then takes a last look around
the room before hanging the towel up and climbing into bed.

I snuggle up to him, wrapping my arms around him and
inhaling his clean scent.

"How's the hand?" I ask.

Mal holds it up and slowly flexes the fingers.

"It aches a little. I'll live though."

I take the appendage in question and hold it very gently
between my own hands. I can feel the heat where it's trying
its best to heal.

"You're meant to rest it on ice, not work for another two or
more hours," I scold.

He half shrugs as he snuggles closer to me. "I'll trust you
to kiss it better."

I laugh, then spoon up behind him, our bodies touching from
head to toe.

"What about you? Have you felt okay today?" he murmurs
sleepily.

"Me? Fine." It seems an odd question, given that he's
obviously the injured one.

"I mean, after our activities last night. You haven't
experienced any discomfort?" He reaches backwards and
strokes a hand down my side to my butt.

"Oh. No, I'm fine. I've had a few moments when it's brought
back some memories, but not ones suitable for further
thought in a room full of my crew," I grin.

"As long as you're not hurting. As soon as this madness is
over I'm sure we can examine some of those memories
together.

I'm beginning to think Mal's about as close to perfection as
a mere mortal can get.

I'm going to have to tell Jon about us soon. Not because
he's our captain, but because he's my best friend, and I
want him to know that Mal makes me this happy. So as the man
I love lies sleeping in my arms I try and plan how to tell
my parents and best friend that I've found The One.

---

The next day we're both up early again - back working in our
respective departments. It's a manic time, and I only meet
Mal when we both rush back to his quarters to change into
fresh clean uniforms for the leaving ceremony. We rush
around the tiny room getting in each other's way, and stress
gives way to me getting fits of the giggles when I try and
pull on his black undershirt--which of course sets Mal off
laughing too as I struggle to regain my composure.

But despite the thin veneer of calm we put on to cover up
the multiple layers of near-chaos, Enterprise finally leaves
on her maiden voyage on time and with no hitches.

---

Our first mission goes with surprisingly few problems, and
once we've restored an uneasy peace we're told to carry on - 
our mission has started.

There are a few initial problems with various crewmembers.
Most people weren't prepared for a five-year mission, and
many had banked on going back to Earth to pick up more
personal belongings. I wonder if that's why Mal's room is so
bare, because his things hadn't been transported up from
Earth yet.

I can't help thinking though, that I should tell people
about us. We're going to be out here for a long time. And
people will find out. Now that everything's calmed down and
I've sorted out my cabin we spend a lot of time there. It's
only so long before someone puts two and two together when
they see Mal and me entering or leaving.

Tonight, however, I decide we should sort out Mal's place.
Make it a bit more homey.

I eat dinner with the captain and T'Pol, then make my
excuses. Jon gives me an odd look, but he doesn't actually
come out and ask me where I keep disappearing to in the
evenings.

I reach Mal's cabin and ring the chime. I do have the code,
but it just seems more polite not to barge in when I know
he's home. He calls for me to enter and looks up from where
he's working on his tiny desk.

"Hey love. Did you have a pleasant meal?"

"Sure did. You?"

He shrugs, and I wonder if he's eaten at all.

"I thought we could sort out this place now we've finished
mine," I smile, rubbing my hands together.

"Sort it out?" he frowns and looks around.

"Yeah, you know, unpack the rest of your stuff, make it a
bit more inviting an' all. Where's your things stored?"

He looks blank.

"There aren't any other... 'things'," he finally says.

"What about, y'know, pictures, knick-knacks... just... things,"
I wave my hand in an all-encompassing gesture.

"This is all there is."

He sounds defensive,

"Oh. I'm sorry," I offer.

"You weren't to know." He looks around and gives a tiny
half-smile. "It is a little bare."

---

He's a bit distant all night after that. I stay in his
quarters, but leave early, changing into a fresh uniform
before breakfast with Jon.

Halfway through the meal Jon lays down his spoon.

"Trip, what's wrong?" he asks.

I look up, surprised. "Nothin'."

"You been very quiet these last few days. I know something's
on your mind."

I want to tell him about Mal so badly, but I don't know if
Mal would want me to. So I keep my mouth shut, for now.

By the end of the day I'm wondering if I made the right
decision. Jon calls T'Pol and me to his quarters.

When I get there he looks worried.

"T'Pol, Trip, have either of you checked your private
messages today?"

I shake my head.

"I did so this morning, Captain," T'Pol answers.

"There was nothing unusual?" he asks.

"No, there was not."

"I think it came in later than that anyway," he says almost
to himself.

"What did?" I prompt, wishing he would stop being cryptic.

He takes a deep breath. "I think we have a problem relating
to Lieutenant Reed."

I'm sure he notices my reaction, despite my attempt not to
let anything show at the mention of Mal's name.

T'Pol raises and eyebrow.

"I... received some images in a message via the latest mail
batch. They are somewhat compromising. By the look of the
address coding I'm pretty sure each of you will have
received copies too," he pauses. "The message asks me if I
know what kind of man I have on this ship as an officer. I
think I can safely say I did not, and I doubt either of you
two does either. I suggest you go and check your mail, and
then we further discuss this matter. In the meantime, I'll
have a word with the lieutenant."

I want to go and see Mal, but not knowing what's going on, I
don't see what I could do to help him.

So I head for my quarters and pull the day's communications.
There are some engineering reports, a message from a friend,
one from my sister and then - an unmarked file - no sender
name.

I hesitate, then open it.

The pictures shock even me.

Mal is in all of them, contorted to different positions. I
count at least four different men fucking him and using him
in every way imaginable. Their faces aren't visible, but his
is.

There's everything from blowjobs to anal, bondage to
spit-roasts. It makes me remember how he was when I first
saw him. It makes me sad. This isn't the Mal I know.

And suddenly I'm worried. Jon's in his office right now,
with Mal. Jon, who's seen these pictures. He doesn't know
Mal like I do. He doesn't know that this isn't really Mal,
not Mal now, not the officer who I met just the short time
ago. It's not the same person at all.

I get up and run.

When I hit the button outside Jon's door it opens
immediately. I look into the room, but it's empty, apart
from Jon.

"I... I... where's Malcolm?" I stammer, catching my breath.

"He left," Jon answers simply.

"Left?"

"He wouldn't defend himself, Trip, he wouldn't say anything,
except that these pictures have no bearing on his ability as
an officer. Trip, I'm going to think about what I should
do."

"Where is he now?" I can't keep the note of desperation out
of my voice.

"I don't know, Trip. Why?"

"I have to find him," I say softly as I leave without being
dismissed.

---

I search the ship, but no one seems to have seen him. His
quarters are empty, and he's not in the mess hall or the
gym.

Eventually I check the cargo holds, and find Mal sitting on
some crates. His arms are wrapped around his knees, face
buried.

I walk up to him and stand, not sure what to do.

He doesn't look up.

"Mal?" I eventually say softly, when it's clear he's not
going to acknowledge my presence.

"No."

The muffled voice is soft, almost inaudible.

"'No' what?" I ask, confused.

"Whatever you came to say, don't."

I hunker down, so I'm looking slightly up at him. "I saw the
pictures."

I can't see the point in not telling him, he must have
guessed, if Jon didn't tell him.

"What did Jon say?" I ask, wanting to know that Jon didn't
say anything stupid to Mal.

He doesn't answer.

I reach out and put a hand near his knee, stroking my thumb
over the fabric of his uniform.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask softly.

There a pause, then a small voice.

"Leave me alone."

"I can't do that, Mal, I love you," I say, firmly, willing
him to know that that's the truth.

"Just go," he says, as he raises his head and looks at me
for the first time. And maybe I would have gone if it
weren't for the total desolation I see in his eyes.

"No," I say firmly.

"Please," he says, and there's a note of desperation in his
voice.

"No."

I sit on the floor and wait, not looking at him, but showing
him that I'm not leaving him. Not now, not ever.

We sit in silence for a long time before he speaks again.

"Why are you here?"

I stare at him, my mouth open. There are so many reasons,
but I only answer with the most important one.

"Because I love you."

He makes a little mirthless snort.

"What does that mean?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Love."

"It... it means... I... " I struggle to find the words, because
it's not that simple. "It means I want to help you, I want to
understand you, I want to be with you, it means that without
you, I'm less of a person."

"Why?" he asks, not meeting my gaze.

"Why? There's no set reason, Mal, it just happens that way.
It's just how it is. You mean everything to me."

"I don't mean anything." He looks into my eyes. "I don't
mean anything," he repeats quietly, as if to convince me.

"What are you talking about?" I can't help but let a spark
of irritation into my voice. Irritation that he could ever
think such a thing, that anyone else had ever let him think
that of himself.

"I have no respect, not for myself, not from anyone else.
They took that from me, and they keep taking it every single
time."

And finally there's something in his voice, anger, maybe.
But it's something. It's a move away from the flat
monotonous voice of despair.

"Every time what? Mal, who are they?"

"Every time it comes back to me. Everywhere I go and every
time I try and be something that's better than that, better
than what I was. They just drag me back. I did what I did to
get here and now those same actions are going to take all
this away again."

He stands suddenly and walks away.

I jump up and follow him, brushing the dust from my uniform.
I catch him in the turbolift.

"Mal, please, talk to me. What are you doing?"

"I'm getting it over with. I'm finishing this."

"Finishing what? Mal? What?"

The lift stops at the bridge and Mal strides out before I
can say anything else.

"Sir, could I speak to you in private?" he asks, ever the
formal officer.

"Of course," Jon throws a quick glance toward me, then
stands and gestures Mal to his office.

"I think perhaps it would be best if the Sub-Commander and
Commander Tucker were to join us, sir," he says, no trace of
emotion.

We all enter the office, Jon and T'Pol next to Jon's desk,
Mal standing to attention near the door. I settle for
leaning against the wall between them.

"Lieutenant?" Jon prompts as soon as the door has closed.

"Sir, I've been thinking, since we spoke earlier. I
understand what an impossible position you have been put in.
I think it would solve everyone's problems if I tender my
resignation. I trust it will be possible for me to travel
back to Earth with as short a delay as possible."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My jaw drops open.
Silence lays heavy in the small room.

Jon finally regains his composure.

"Refused, Lieutenant," he finally says, his voice almost
cracking.

"Sir?" Mal looks confused.

"From what I can gather, Lieutenant, those pictures were
taken some time ago."

"Yes, sir," Mal looks completely miserable.

"Do you know how they came to be sent to the three of us?"
Jon asks.

"No, sir," Mal replies.

"It seems to me, Lieutenant, that your past is coming back
to haunt you."

Jon looks up at Mal.

"Yes, sir."

Mal doesn't meet his gaze.

"And has this happened before?"

Mal pauses, as if debating whether to answer. Finally he
does.

"Yes, sir, it has."

"On the Orion Omega?" Jon asks, and I suddenly realise that
Jon knows a little more about all this than I do.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No, sir."

Jon smiles slightly and shakes his head. "That wasn't a
choice, Lieutenant."

Mal looks at the floor and takes a deep breath.

"Some pictures were sent to crewmembers, sir. I was... angry.
My superiors questioned my ability to do my job, having lost
the respect of my crew. Captain Gregory was forced to take
action. I was demoted for conduct unbecoming of an officer, sir."

"I see," Jon nods. "And the people responsible for sending
them?"

"They were never traced, sir," Mal answers in a small voice.

"I see."

Jon looks at me and I give a minute shrug.

"Lieutenant, take the rest of the day off. Report for duty
as usual tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Mal answers, looking miserable.

"And we won't mention this again, okay?"

"Sir."

"All right, dismissed Lieutenant." Jon waves a hand.

Mal nods, turns sharply on his heel and leaves.

I look from Jon to T'Pol and back.

"Cap'n," I suddenly blurt out. "I have to tell you
something."

"Trip?" Jon raises his eyebrows.

"Malcolm and I... we're... in a relationship. I
think...thought... you should know."

Jon looks totally shocked. T'Pol just has one eyebrow raised
- which I suppose is totally shocked, for a Vulcan.

"You - for how long? Since I introduced you?" Jon stutters.

"Actually, Cap'n, we met quite a while ago, when Malcolm was
still going through college. We kinda saw each other for a
while then," I admit.

"You never said a word," he accuses.

"No. Well, we both knew it wasn't going to last. We had
different paths we needed to take." I try to keep my voice
steady, even though the memory of leaving him still hurts
me.

"And now those paths have crossed again?" Jon muses. "Well,
I suggest you go and talk to him, check he's all right. But
watch your step, Trip. I don't want to see you getting hurt.
You have a fine career; don't give it all up by doing
something stupid."

He dismisses me and I take the chance to go and find Mal.

The implication of Jon's words angers me, but I know he's
only trying to do what he thinks is right. However wrong he
is.

---

This time when I track Mal down, he's sitting halfway up one
of the nacelle struts, legs dangling down the access hatch.

He moves aside slightly to allow me to hitch myself up
opposite him, then he continues to stare down between his
feet. It's quite a drop, and for a second I worry about why
he came here - what he's thinking.

I don't know what to say. I'm not sure there is anything to
be said, but I need to be near him, so we sit in silence.

"I'm glad that the captain refused my resignation," he
finally says very quietly.

I look up to find him gazing at me.

"So'm I, Mal," I answer.

He nods. "The captain was right. I can't let it haunt me
forever."

His voice is getting stronger as he speaks, as if he's
trying to convince himself as much as me. Maybe this is what
he needed - a captain who was willing to disregard the
pictures, who would support him.

"You know, the one good thing about the SSF was that no one
knew where I was. No one could find me and do this then, not
even most of the command officers," he says.

I reach out and rest my hand on his knee. "If there's
anything I can do... " I don't really know what to offer, so I
leave the sentence hanging.

He nods and smiles bravely, but in his eyes I see the same
stoic vulnerability as I did all those years ago.

"I told Jon and T'Pol about us," I blurt out, knowing that I
have to tell him sooner or later.

"What did they say?" he asks, not looking at all surprised
that I told them, despite him asking me not too. I wonder
what that says about how much he trusts me.

"Not much. Looked kinda shocked, I guess. Especially Jon."

"He doesn't mind his best friend - his chief engineer -
being involved with someone like me?" Mal asks.

"You mean someone brave and clever and gorgeous? No - he
doesn't mind," I grin.

My soppiness earns me a small smile from Mal - although
whether it's with me or at me I couldn't really say.

He finally takes a deep breath and looks at me again.

"Shall we move - to somewhere more comfortable, maybe?" he
asks.

I nod. We head for his cabin, as it's closer. He looks
tired, and I feel sorry for him. When he keys open his door
I can see his hand trembling slightly, a sign of the strain
he's feeling, perhaps.

He stands back and lets me enter first. He heads straight
for his bunk and sits with his back to the wall, knees
pulled up again.

"Where did those pictures come from?" I ask gently, hoping
that he knows me well enough to know I won't judge him,
whatever he's done in the past.

He sits in silence, contemplating his hands. I don't think
he's going to answer me at first, but then he begins to
speak.

"That night - the last time I saw you. I was... the night
before, they did that to me. That's why I was in a bad way."

"They... didn't you fight them? I mean, you looked like you'd
been beaten up. Before, you said you got into fights, you
said you'd beaten up those other two."

He shakes his head. "I went with a trick, for a drink, like
we did. He said he needed one before he did me. Then he
drugged me, in my drink. The rest showed up and dragged me
off. I couldn't move, couldn't fight. I was awake, I knew
what was happening, but I couldn't do anything about it. I
was stupid, I should have been more careful."

I can hear the anger in his voice, although he tries to
suppress it. And the language he uses seems to distance him
from the old Mal – I can tell that he's parcelled this
memory up in his mind and almost believes it didn't happen
to him, now. I can't imagine how he must have felt, being
helpless. Mal isn't the helpless sort.

"You... they drugged you? You didn't consent to any of that?" I
can't keep the anger and surprise out of my voice.

Mal shakes his head, looking a million times more miserable,
if possible.

"Did you report it? Where they ever caught?" I ask, moving
to sit next to him.

He shakes his head again, although I'm not sure which of my
questions he's responding to. I suppose it amounts to the
same thing.

"So do you have any idea who's sending the photo's out now?"
I ask, wondering how whoever it is knows where he's posted,
or how to access the Starfleet communications network.

He doesn't respond, looking lost in his own thoughts.

"Well, why don't you tell Jon? Why didn't you tell Gregory?
He wouldn't have demoted you, surely, if he'd known the
whole story. Tell someone, tell me. We can sort it out."

"I can't. I'd rather just forget all about it," he says.

"Well that's working, isn't it?" I say sarcastically. "How
are you going to forget it when every time you get posted
someplace new those pictures follow you around?"

He springs off the bed and begins pacing, tension coming off
him in waves.

I immediately wish I could take back my words. He doesn't
need hassle off me on top of everything else.

"And how would that solve anything? It isn't a crime,
Commander, to send pictures of people to other people. There
is nothing that could be done." He turns and stops, standing
still and looking back at me. "Besides, it would hardly take
much digging to find out about my past, and then who would
take my word against someone else's? Who would believe that
I didn't enter into that situation agreeably?"

"They wouldn't, I mean, they... it doesn't matter, anyway, if
you can stop whoever it is sending them, well, that's crime
enough, them sending the pictures. If you really don't want
to do anything about what they did to you I suppose you
don't have to. But you can't go on knowing that every new
assignment you get these pictures will follow you around."

"There is no crime in sending those pictures. They're not
blackmail or anything," he says, wearily. And I can tell
that this isn't a fight he wants. He's not prepared to even
think about standing up for himself. I wonder what he hasn't
told me, because this isn't like Mal. There must be
something more, something that has defeated him. I wish he
would tell me.

I stay with him that night. He's not very talkative, but I
didn't expect him to be.

I can't think of anything to say that won't make things
worse, so I keep my mouth shut. I've got my own opinions on
what should be done to the people who hurt Mal, and part of
me can't believe that he'd let them get away with it without
so much as a thought. But I know I'm being irrational. This
is a shock to me, but he's lived with it for years. He must
have gone through every emotion, worked through every
scenario in his mind. I can't begin to understand why he
decided not to do or say anything, but somehow he came to
that decision, and I shouldn't question him.

---

The next morning he seems a little happier as he heads off
to his shift. Mal's never liked forced inactivity, he always
prefers to work, especially if he's got something to think
about.

I head for breakfast with Jon, although I'm dreading the
questions he's bound to ask. I walk in the door, not making
eye contact with him. He's got one of his smug 'I know
something you don't' looks on his face.

I sit down and try to ignore him smiling at me. But in the
end I can't.

"What?" I ask, snapping a little more than I mean to.

"Just thought you might like to hear a bit of news hot off
the Starfleet presses," he grins.

"What? Something about Enterprise?"

"In a way," Jon nods.

"So, go on, what is it," I ask, trying to pretend not to be
too interested, just because I know he wants me to be.

He laughs and leans forward, gesturing at me with his spoon.

"Friend of yours is coming to stay with us. See how it's
really done, out here, learn how Enterprise is different
from the Starfleet simulators."

"Yeah? Who?" I sometimes feel like I know everyone in
Starfleet.

"Tom Davenport," Jon says.

"Tom? You're joking!" I haven't spoken to him since before
Enterprise left. Tom and I were friends - joined up around
the same time. We worked together a lot. He's clever, a
brilliant engineer, but also a good laugh.

"So what, he's coming onboard for good?" I ask, already
smiling at the thought of seeing him again.

"No, probably just a few months. It depends what we get up
to really. Starfleet are happy to pick him up again whenever
it's convenient. They want you to tell him about all the
changes and improvements you've made to the warp drive so he
can pass them on to R and D. They obviously want to learn
from your mistakes," Archer grins, teasing me.

The news keeps me smiling all morning and when I find an
excuse I head for the armoury. Mal's in there on his own,
working on some minute circuitry that means he's on his
knees next to one of the torpedo launchers. Next to him a
cloth spread on the floor with his toolbox. There are
components laid out, each in perfect position ready for
refitting. He looks around as I enter and smiles.

"You okay?" I ask, gesturing to all the bits and pieces.

He nods, then stands up, wiping his hands on his uniform.
"Getting there. Enjoying the peace and quiet."

"Yeah. Hey, I spoke to Jon this morning, got some good
news." I can't help but smile already.

"Oh yes?" He's giving me a half-smile, amused by my obvious
good mood, I guess.

"An old friend of mine's coming on board. He's an engineer,
come to see how the professionals do it," I grin.

"And does he have a name?" Mal asks.

"Tom. Tom Davenport," I say.

Mal freezes for a second, then seems to try to speak, but no
words come out. He swallows, then asks "Um, Ad-Admiral
Davenport's... son?" he asks, sounding a little funny.

"Yeah. You've heard of him?" I guess Mal's respect for
authority is going to go into overdrive.

"We've... met."

I look at Mal more closely. He looks a little pale, and I
wonder if he's eaten yet today. Knowing Mal, probably not.
"So you know Tom? That's great. I went through training with
him, you should have seen some of the stuff we got up to," I
laugh.

Mal nods slowly, and gives me a small smile. He looks
fidgety and I guess I'm interrupting his work, so I give his
arm a squeeze. "I'll see you for lunch in an hour or so,
okay?"

He gives me a curt little nod and I think his attention is
already on the inside of a torpedo launcher.

I walk back to Engineering with a spring in my step.

---

At lunchtime Mal seems real quiet. I wonder if it's because
of yesterday or because he's still thinking about his
current circuitry problem.

I keep talking, and the occasional response I do get feels
hard won. My leg finds its way to pressing against his under
the table and he smiles for the first time. I grin back,
trying to get him in a playful mood, but he's not having any
of it. By the end of lunch I think more of his mood has worn
off on me than mine on him.

I decide we probably just need some quiet time together and
plan on fetching him at the end of our shifts and spending
the evening with a movie in my quarters or something. Maybe
that'll make him relax, forget about the pictures and
everything.

T'Pol hasn't said a word to me, and Jon doesn't seem
inclined to mention yesterday again. I just wish we could
find out where those pictures were sent from. But I guess if
anyone could do that it'd be Mal, and he hardly seems
willing to. Besides, if he could have surely he'd have found
out last time.

I'm pre-occupied for the afternoon, trying to think of
something special to do for Mal. I figure I'll fetch
something nice from the mess that we can have cold, then let
him pick a movie. I think it'll do him good to spend some
time out of the public view. He knows he can just be himself
with me.

Tom coming onboard will be fun. We used to play all sorts of
pranks in officer training and somehow I can't see that
stopping just because we're on Enterprise. I only hope that
whilst having fun we can also get Mal to relax some and
treat Tom as a friend, not as the son of an admiral.

Towards the end of my shift Jon comms me and asks me up to
his ready room. I hope he doesn't want anything that'll take
long, because I want to go and sort some things out for Mal
and me.

When I enter Jon's sitting at his desk. He looks up at me,
his attention immediately on me, not his work.

"Trip, how're you?" he asks.

I frown, this isn't how our conversations usually start.
"Fine. You?"

Jon ignores my question. "How's Malcolm been today?"

And we're immediately into the real reason for this meet.

"He seems... quiet. But then he always is." I shrug, not
knowing what to say. I can hardly tell Jon that all I think
he needs is a good hug and a bit of time. "He'll be fine,
y'know Mal, he's... he won't let something like this get him
down."

Jon nods slowly. "Keep an eye on him, Trip. I know we're all
busy, and with Tom coming onboard there'll be even more to
do, but I'm counting on you. I take it you know him well
enough to notice if something's seriously wrong."

I just about stop myself from grinning. Jon's just given me
all the excuse I need to spend a little extra time with Mal.
"I'll do that," I answer, nodding.

"Good." Jon smiles, and I know this is his way of showing
his approval of Mal and my relationship.

---

Almost a week later everything seems to be back to normal -
Mal's been putting in long hours and I'm not sure if it's
because of the pictures or because he wants the armoury in
top shape for Tom's arrival. Possibly a bit of both. He
tells me what he's been doing occasionally, but whilst I can
keep up with some of what he says, the weapons-related stuff
is a little beyond me. I just nod and smile. He spends more
time looking at the screen of a padd than into my eyes.

Tom's arrival is imminent and I take a minute to go and
check on his cabin. I debate leaving some sort of practical
joke to welcome him, but then I decide that would be a
little mean. And I'd rather lull him into a false sense of
security anyway. I can't help but smile at the thought of
seeing him again - I hope he'll lend a little light relief
to what's been going on recently.

Tom's transport finally docks with us about an hour late.
Mal makes it to the meet'n'greet lineup with a few seconds
to spare. Jon gives him a look that suggests he expected
better, but Mal seems impervious. T'Pol and Phlox stand
patiently, I can't help smiling and Jon waits by the airlock
as various clanks and hisses sound out as seals and locks
are formed. Then the green light shines and Jon reaches for
the door, pulling it open wide and watching as Tom ducks
through the walkway, his kit bag on his back and a smile on
his face. He salutes smartly. "Permission to come aboard,
Captain," he grins.

"Granted, Mr Davenport, granted." Jon reaches out and shakes
his hand enthusiastically. "I trust your journey was
comfortable?"

Tom nods, although he's not looking at Jon. I turn to follow
his gaze and see that Mal is the subject. Mal's expression
is unreadable, but his eyes are fixed on Tom, unblinking.
"It was, thank you, sir," Tom answers politely.

"And let me introduce my senior crew." Jon waves an arm at
us. "Although I believe you already know certain members."

Tom shakes my hand, slapping me hard on the shoulder.
"Trippy, I suppose it was only a matter of time before they
had to send me out to show you how it should be done, huh?"
he laughs.

I drag him into a hug and slap him on the back. "They told
me that they knew I was the only teacher who'd put up with
you," I answer. "Don't worry, we'll show you the ropes,
you'll probably get the hang of it."

"And this is our doctor, Phlox," Jon continues.

I watch Phlox smile and nod, his hands never coming out from
behind his back. It must be hard, getting around our social
occasions whilst avoiding physical contact. T'Pol graciously
extends a hand whilst Jon introduces her. "It is pleasant to
make your acquaintance," she says politely. "I have met your
father, through my work for Vulcan."

Then they move onto Mal. There's something going on that I
can't quite put my finger on - neither Mal nor Tom will
break eye contact with each other as Tom reaches out his
hand. Mal salutes, ignoring the offered hand.

"And this is our head of security, tactical and the armoury,
Malcolm Reed," Jon smiles.

"Yeah, we've met," Tom drawls. Malcolm visibly stiffens. So
do I, I imagine. Why didn't Mal say anything to me?

"Oh, I had no idea," Jon beams. "Well then, it seems like
you'll take no time to settle in. Trip will show you around,
then we'll see about assigning you duties in engineering.
I'm sure you'll find everyone here very friendly, so don't
hesitate to ask about anything."

Tom returns to my side, although he's still looking at Mal,
whose gaze is now fixed on the wall in front of him.

"Dismissed, everyone," Jon calls as he joins us, and before
I can call out Mal's gone, striding briskly down the
corridor in front of T'Pol. It's only once he's out of sight
that I realise he's going the wrong way for the turbolift.

I try to put my lover's odd behaviour out of my mind as I
show Tom first to his quarters and then around the ship. We
stop for lunch in the mess, catching up with what's been
going on in each other's lives. He's been busy back in R&D
and tells me about some of the things that are being worked
on - exciting projects that almost make me a little jealous
that I'm stuck out here with the Warp five engine, not back
getting stuck into making six and beyond a reality. But then
I think about everything we've done out here and realise
that whilst I might miss out on some of the latest technical
developments I see things that no Human has ever seen
before. And of course, Mal's here.

I want to ask Tom how he and Mal know each other, but
something stops me. I think perhaps I don't want Tom to
think I care. Just like I didn't say anything when he was
telling me about his wife - I could easily have mentioned
that I too had a partner, but this same feeling held me
back. Maybe I just don't want him to think I've changed from
when we used to go out picking up girls. Anyway, I promised
Malcolm that I wouldn't say anything, and I've already
broken that promise by telling Jon. I won't do it again.

Maybe I'll talk to Mal. Although seeing as how he didn't
volunteer the information in the first place I can't see
that he'll be too helpful. It crosses my mind that maybe it
has to do with the SSF, but then I dismiss the thought. I
know that Tom's never had anything to do with that branch of
Starfleet. Unless he developed some sort of technology for
them, I ponder. In which case, neither man will say anything
to me; they're both professionals and their work was no
doubt covered by the secrets act.

By the time we've finished eating and are heading towards
engineering I figure that everything will come out in good
time. I'm not the most patient of people, but I can wait.

"Where to now?" Tom asks.

"Engineering," I reply.

"I haven't seen the armoury yet," Tom replies casually.

"Oh. We'll stop by there then," I answer.

"I'm sure I can find my own way, if you point me in the
right direction," Tom smiles at me.

I feel suddenly uneasy and shake my head. "I'll take you
there, it's no problem."

We walk onto the upper level of the armoury and I look
around for Mal. There's no one about, so he must be off
somewhere, messing about with one of the aft torpedo
launchers or something. I wave my hand. "Well, this is it,"
I smile.

He nods, looking around. "No staff?" he asks.

"There's Malcolm and Crewman Deveraux," I answer. "Mal works
alpha shift, Deveraux's on gamma. Apart from that we sub
crew over here from engineering or security."

"Why no beta shift crew?" Tom frowns.

"Well originally Deveraux was the beta shift, but Mal
realised that it was more important to have someone in here
when most of the crew would be asleep. If we have an
emergency during beta it's likely that most of the crew
would still be awake and on hand." I don't add that most of
the time Mal pulls double shifts.

Tom nods again. "So engineering works pretty closely with
the armoury then?" he asks, smiling.

"Some of the crew do, yes." I wonder if he's fishing for
information about me and Mal, but then I dismiss the
thought; he couldn't have found out about us, no way.

---

I don't see Mal again until late in the evening, after I get
back from having dinner with Tom. He looks tired and doesn't
say a word as he readies for bed, folding his uniform neatly
as he dries from his shower. I don't say anything either - I
have no idea what to say.

Eventually, as he climbs into the small bunk he looks across
at me. "I shall need to take the power to the aft torpedoes
offline tomorrow," he says. "I'll tell you about it in the
morning."

"Is that where you were earlier?" I ask. "Tom and I dropped
by, but you weren't in the armoury."

He gives a curt little nod, then turns his back to me,
wrapping himself in the blankets. I sit and look at him for
a long moment, wondering what I've missed.

---

I find myself spending a lot of time in engineering over the
next few days. Mainly I'm with Tom. Sometimes it's because I
don't want to be with anyone.

Mal's acting strangely, in that he's being perfectly normal.
I mean, he's being the model officer, as always, and then
when we're together in the evening, which isn't for long,
most nights, he's polite and dutifully loving. I get kisses
on the cheek when we meet, an arm around me when I sit close
to him, a hug when I get into bed. What I don't get are
stolen moments in a corridor, I don't get knowing smiles
across the bridge. I miss the pointless visits to
engineering, the jokes, the arguments. I miss everything
that was special between us. And there's something else I'm
missing too. Something to do with Tom.

It makes me think a bit harder about just how Mal and Tom
know each other. And the conclusions I jump to perhaps
shouldn't shock me as much as they do. I mean, I'm hardly
the only officer to pick up a whore for some companionship.

I also realise that there's really not much I can do about
the situation. I can hardly cast stones - besides, it's
clear that Mal has moved on, so I should too. Leave history
be. Mal chose me; it's my bed he comes to every night.

Then, as I lay in bed alone, waiting for Mal to arrive, I
begin to wonder. There seem to have been a lot of things
happening in the armoury lately that require Mal to stay on
for double shifts and beyond. I haven't seen him for dinner
for a week now. He just arrives back in my room late,
showers and sleeps. I should know what he's been working on,
but I can't remember him telling me anything specific, and
I've been so tied up in working with Tom that I haven't even
been into the armoury for days.

My door slides open and Mal slips into the room, looking
directly at me, as if checking to see if I'm awake.

"Evenin'," I say softly.

"Trip," Mal replies, by way of a greeting, already bent over
to undo his boots.

"You're late," I say, propping myself up on my elbow to
watch him.

"There were things I had to attend to," he answers vaguely.

I nod.

"I just need to shower," he says, pulling his jumpsuit down
as he heads for my bathroom.

I nod again, although he obviously can't see me.

Ten minutes later he's back, and, as always, I turn to face
the wall and he spoons behind me, his arm around me. I wish
I could see his face. I remember the first time we shared a
bed, the way he held my head against his chest, so that I
couldn't see his expression. I wonder if that's all he ever
does with people - manipulate them so they never see the
true Malcolm Reed. It wouldn't surprise me.

---

The next morning he gets up and I don't move. I wait until
he leaves before sitting up. I dress and head straight for
the armoury, forgoing breakfast. I walk into the main room,
quietly closing the door behind me. It seems that the place
is deserted, until I hear voices. It sounds like someone's
behind the blast shielding, in the test area. So I walk
toward it, my footsteps silent. I should feel guilty
creeping about like this, but I don't; I feel justified.

I stand by the side of shielding, away from the viewing
panel and listen.

"I've told you, it's not going to happen," I easily identify
Malcolm's clipped tones, and he sounds angry.

"Why? Not got the balls?" Tom's laugh is distinctive.

There's a silence, but I can imagine the look on Mal's face.
No one calls him a coward.

"I have work to do, Commander," he says coldly.

I realise I'm about to be caught eavesdropping, so scuttle
back out of the door. Once in the corridor I take a moment
to compose myself, before re-entering the armoury, clanging
the door back on the wall to announce my presence.

I just miss clouting Tom as he was obviously about to leave
the room. He barely acknowledges me - he looks angry. I turn
to see if Mal's about, but he's obviously still in the test
area.

"Mal?" I call out.

There's a short pause before he appears, tugging his uniform
into shape, not looking at me. "Commander?" he says, and I
can hear the tension in his voice.

I wonder what they were arguing about. I know Tom can rub
people up the wrong way - and I know that Mal can fly off
the handle if he's needled, so somehow it doesn't surprise
me that the two of them have had a disagreement already.

"Um... I... " I realise that I'm not sure why I've come to the
armoury, apart from wanting to see Mal. I also realise that
I wouldn't normally feel like I needed an excuse. "I just
missed you this morning, that was all."

Mal nods. "I'm sorry. I had things to attend to," he
answers.

"Shall we spend some time together tonight?" I ask. "Just
us?"

Mal pauses for a moment, then nods curtly.

"You and Tom been working together?" I ask. "I just bumped
into him on my way in," I gesture to the door.

"The commander and I were discussing something," Mal says,
turning away and making it clear that the conversation is
over.

---

In the following week or so Mal relaxes some, but he's not
back to his old self. He's distant, even when we're alone
together. Not in his actions – he's still affectionate, and
we still make love. I just feel like he's always distracted,
as if he's going through the motions a bit. I wonder if I'm
losing him, and what on earth I can do to make things
better.

I suppose I was distracted when it happened. At least, I
didn't notice the warning light that I know must have been
flashing. I was working on the engines when a conduit gives
out. The hot plasma just catches me as I jump backward and
hit the emergency shut down. The burns reach up my right
arm, my uniform seems to be almost melted to my skin. I bite
back a cry of pain, then head for the comm. panel. I put in
the call to sickbay, not entirely sure I can make it there
on my own. Luckily one of my staff notices me and runs to my
assistance with the first aid pack. She carefully lays the
cooling gel strips over my arm, as we've all been taught to,
then helps me to Phlox.

News always travels fast on ship and it's only ten minutes
before Malcolm strides into sickbay. "Where's Trip?" I hear
him asking Phlox. He sounds angry, and I wonder if he's just
trying to mask his concern for me.

"Ah, Mr. Reed. The commander is just over there," Phlox says
cheerfully.

The force with which Mal pulls the curtain back almost
wrenches it from its rings. Then he stops dead, looking at
me.

One of Phlox's creatures is suckered onto my skin. I never
ask what they do anymore – Phlox's descriptions of their
healing powers usually sounds worse than whatever they're
curing. Other than that, I'm fine. The burns didn't go much
more than skin deep, although they do look a lot worse now
that Phlox has had a go at removing most of the charred
uniform cloth from them.

"You're all right?" Mal asks, sounding surprised.

I frown. "Yes – well, I will be once Phlox's little
sucker-thing here has kissed me better."

"I... I was led to believe that... you know what rumours are
like," he finishes, looking relieved. "What happened?"

I shake my head. "I don't know, well, I do, the conduit
overloaded and failed. But I've done the same thing a
thousand times over, and it's never happened before."

"What about the warning systems?" Mal frowned. "If the
isolation valves had failed before you began work on the
conduit then the warning light should have showed."

"I guess... I just wasn't paying attention," I shrug. "I was
thinking about other things."

Mal shakes his head and I know I should have been more
careful. He doesn't need to worry about me on top of his
other problems.

"Wasn't there anyone else working with you?" Mal asks.

"Tom was, but he'd just gone to check on something," I
answer. "Maybe if he'd been there it wouldn't have happened,
he'd have spotted the warning, but you know what they say
about hindsight."

Mal turns away, then, almost as an afterthought, turns back.
"I'll be back in to see you later," he says, his attention
clearly off me and onto something else.

I'd hoped for a bit more, from my lover. He didn't even get
closer than a few feet. Usually when one of us ends up in
Phlox's care we at least get a few minutes of holding hands,
offering comfort.

Phlox lets me go before Mal is back. I decide to quickly
visit engineering before I go to my cabin. I want to see the
damage I've caused so I can plan repairs. Phlox has told me
to take it easy for tonight, so I don't feel like I'm
disobeying him completely just by having a look.

When I get there I see Mal. He's standing by the damaged
area, scanners and tools all around him. Half the hatches on
the wall are off, stacked around him.

"What ya doing?" I ask as I walk up behind him.

He jumps. "Commander, I thought you would still be with the
doctor."

"He let me go. I thought I'd come and check on the damage
I've caused."

Mal closes down the file on his padd and I wonder what he
doesn't want me to see.

"It seems to have been a faulty valve, when you isolated the
system it was leaking, and, coincidentally, some sort of
power malfunction rendered the warning lights inoperative."

I frown, I can't see how any of the valves would have got
through the routine checks if they had been defective, and
it seems strange the warning system could have so easily
been rendered useless. But I trust Malcolm. He takes his job
very seriously and I know that he will have examined
everything before coming to any conclusions.

"So it was just bad luck then?" I answer.

He nods slowly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that,
Commander."

He looks exhausted, so I nudge him on the shoulder. "Come to
bed, then. I'll get down to sorting all this lot out in the
morning."

He looks up at me and nods. "Let me tidy away, then I'll
join you," he says.

I leave him as he replaces the hatches and begins clearing
down all his tools.

---

Mal seems a bit more attentive after my little mishap. He
asks me what I'm doing, takes an interest in the running of
engineering. During the day he visits me, asks how I'm
doing. I notice that he's far more formal when I'm working
with Tom, but I suppose that's to be expected, so I don't
really mind.

Then, to break up the monotony a bit, we receive a call for
help from another craft. The Yopaythians had some sort of
trouble on board and are limping along with barely any
power. It's quickly established that we can probably help
them, so Jon sets about organising things and finding out
about our new friends.

He comes down to engineering and asks if Tom and I would
mind going across to the other vessel and providing their
engineers with some supplies as well as a bit of help. This
is the kind of thing I feel like we should be doing out
here. Not just meeting new species, but helping out and
forging friendships. It puts me in a good mood, plus I think
it'll be great for Tom to see what we really do out here.
It's the first time he'll be present for a first contact,
and that's the sort of thing everyone keeps a special memory
of.

It's not long, though, before Mal appears. "Captain, I
really think that you should send some security personnel
with the commanders."

I sigh. I knew this was coming. I know that often Malcolm is
right, but equally often we don't end up in any trouble.
Also, this time, I think a bit of me wants to show Tom that
I'm the brave explorer. I don't need my hand held.

Jon smiles at Malcolm. "Well, I'll leave it up to Trip to
make the call, but I really don't think it will be
necessary. The Yopaythians have asked for our help and
they've been very helpful and friendly towards us. Right now
T'Pol and Hoshi are swapping information with them on their
culture as well as the regions of space they frequent."

"Sir, really, I feel that it would be advisable to have a
small security presence on the other ship," Mal says to me,
as I knew he would. But I take Jon's side, given that he's
already basically told Mal to back off.

"Oh, don't worry, Lieutenant, I'll be there, watching Trip's
back." Tom smiles at me. "So barring accidents, we'll be
just fine. And you know, sometimes there's nothing anyone
can do to stop accidents."

I'm not quite sure what's going on, so frown at Tom.

"I mean, the other day, Trip, when that power grid got a
feedback surge... there was nothing anyone could do to stop
that. But I'm sure nothing like that will happen," Tom
smiles widely at me.

Malcolm looks a bit pale, but I guess he just doesn't want
to think of me hurt. I mean the burns were pretty ugly until
Phlox fixed me up, and Mal did go a little loopy over me
that night, fussing and all.

"We'll be fine," I say to him, slapping him on the arm.

"Of course we will," I hear Tom say from behind me.

I see Mal's eyes fixed on Tom, not me, and I feel like
there's some conversation going on that I'm not hearing.

"S... sir," Mal says, hesitantly, "That security issue we've
been discussing. I... think I can resolve the problem, if
you're free for half an hour tonight?"

"For you, Malcolm, I can spare a couple of hours," Tom
smiles.

"Yes, sir," Mal answers, and again I wonder if I'm missing
something. I mean, if Mal and Tom have been discussing
something it must be related to engineering somehow. Mal
used to come to me when he wanted to discuss engineering
specs. Maybe I really am missing something. I decide to try
and find out this evening. At least I can quiz Tom onboard
the other ship.

We leave in the shuttlepod, I fly with Tom sitting in the
co-pilot's seat.

"What was all that about, then?" I ask Tom.

"All what?" Tom asks.

"With Malcolm. What are you two doing?"

Tom shrugs. "Nothing important. One of the guys back at R&D
gave me some specs for one of the new security systems that
they're working on. He knew that Reed was here so he asked
me to show him and see if he could help `cause they can't
figure it out at all."

"Oh, I see." I feel a little bit silly now, because of
course there's no need for me to know about it. Maybe that's
why Mal's been a bit pre-occupied as well. He hates it when
he can't figure out the answer to a problem and he lets
stuff like that weigh on his mind.

"You're lucky to have a guy like him," Tom says.

I turn around, a little bit too fast. "What do you mean?"

Tom looks at me strangely. "I mean that Enterprise is the
better for having someone like Reed running her tactical
systems. He's the sort of person that should be in the job –
he's got the mind for it, not just the muscle."

"Oh." I realise that I've got be a lot more careful with my
reactions or I'll give the game away. Tom obviously already
thinks I'm acting strangely.

---

Nothing happens on the other ship. We fix their problems as
best we can – they'll be able to limp towards home at least.
Their technology wasn't particularly advanced, they just
didn't have the facilities to make new components, so the
ones that had been damaged couldn't have been replaced
without our help.

I'm very glad that Mal's concerns were unwarranted, but I
also know that every time we go on one of these missions
without any backup it makes it less likely that Jon will
send security the next time.

When we return to Enterprise Mal comms me. He asks some
inane question regarding borrowing a tool, then asks if
we're both okay.

I frown, it's obvious that the first question was just to
get into conversation, and I wonder why Mal feels he needs
an excuse to ask me how we got on. We're lovers – it would
hardly be an unreasonable question to ask.

I wonder if someone is with him – or perhaps he doesn't want
Tom to hear his concern. Perhaps he's just trying a bit
harder than I seem to be to hide our relationship.

"We got on just fine," I assure him. "Everyone's happy, no
mishaps."

There's a pause before he answers. "Good."

He cuts the signal before I respond and I'm left staring at
the comm. panel.

I start loading up the tools to take back to engineering and
push the barrow piled high with toolboxes down the corridor,
Tom walking beside me. As we pass the door to the top deck
of the armoury I suddenly turn to Tom.

"Put all that back, will you? There's something I need to
do." I don't let him answer, just duck through the door and
close it firmly behind me.

There's the sound of a phase pistol going off so I clatter
down the steps to the test area. Malcolm appears, obviously
wondering who's entered the armoury unannounced.

He looks me up and down, almost as if he expects me to be
injured or hurt somehow.

"I'm fine," I say. "Went like clockwork. They looked after
us too."

Mal just nods.

"What are you up to?" I ask. I want to reach out and touch
him, but his manner tells me he wouldn't appreciate it.

"Just recalibrating the phase pistols and rifles. I've got a
class to take this afternoon."

"And tonight you're seeing Tom?" I ask, bluntly.

Mal looks very odd and nods. "Yes," he says, his voice
sounding slightly strangled.

I nod slowly. I may not be the best person for picking up
other people's emotions, but even I can tell that
something's going on that I don't know about.

---

That evening I eat dinner alone in the mess hall, a padd in
my hand and a look that I hope will keep everyone else away.
I don't feel like making idle chit-chat.

On the padd is Tom's service history, downloaded from the
database. I'm looking to see if there's any time when the
two of them can have worked together, but I just can't see
anytime when it could have happened. In the end I'm forced
to conclude that Tom probably met Mal the same way I did.

I just hope that what they have – what they had – isn't
anything like what I have with Mal. It certainly doesn't
seem so on the outside, but I know that Mal can hide his
feelings, and Tom wouldn't exactly be shouting from the
rooftops that he'd made it with a rentboy either.

It's almost nine o'clock when I get back to my cabin. Mal
isn't there – not that I expected him to be. I decide that
what I'm doing is stupid, I'm torturing myself with so many
ideas and stories that I've made up, when I could just walk
down the corridor and see both of them. I stand staring at
my door, hand on the release button, for a long time. I'm
not sure I want to know what I might be about to find out.

Eventually I walk down to Tom's room. I push the chime
button and wait. Nothing happens, and I'm about to turn away
when curiosity gets the better of me. I punch in my
engineering override, looking up and down the corridor as I
am afraid of being caught snooping on one of my best
friends.

As the door slides open I take one last glance around me and
step forward. Then I stop dead in my tracks.

Mal is standing by the side of the bed, pulling his
coveralls up. His boots are on the floor next to him, his
henley unbuttoned. Most damning of all Tom is lying in bed,
obviously naked under the sheets.

Mal freezes, the colour draining from his face.

Tom looks up at me. "Don't bother to knock, will you Trip?"
he says.

I stare at him, unable to believe he can imply that I'm in
the wrong here. I've just walked in on him and my boyfriend
and I think my world might have ended.

"What in hell are you doing?" I shout, furious.

"Trip," Malcolm says, his voice barely audible. "I... can... "

"What?" I shout. "You can what? Explain? Explain why you're
in his bed not mine? Explain why you've been acting so
strangely ever since you heard he was coming aboard?" I jab
a finger accusingly at Tom, who's now sitting up. "Did you
think you could get a few more perks by sleeping with him?
Think his daddy would give you something more than you could
ever get from me?"

"No, no, Trip, it's... " Mal's pulling his coveralls over his
shoulders, holding out his hand as if to try to calm me
down.

"It's what? Not what it looks like? I was stupid to think
that you'd ever be more than a fucking whore and I was
stupid to expect anything better from you, but I am not
stupid enough to believe that this isn't exactly what it
looks like," I snap, seeing that my words hurt him and
feeling some small victory inside.

Tom swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing
between us, the sheet wrapped around his waist. I can see
that Mal's eyes are bright with unshed tears, his expression
absolutely wretched.

"I think there's some sort of misunderstanding," Tom says
smoothly. "Trip? Are you saying... you and Malcolm
were... are... together?"

I glare at him, then at Malcolm, who's turned his back on us
both.

"I had no idea, Trip!" Tom protests. "You know I would never
– I mean... oh my God, Trip, I... "

I turn, hitting the door release button hard, and walk away
down the corridor. When I reach the end I glance around,
assuming that I'll see Mal coming after me, full of
protests, or at least heading for his own cabin, to come to
terms with what he's done.

But he isn't there. They're obviously both still in Tom's
room. Probably talking about how they wish they'd never been
caught. Wondering what they're going to do about me.

I suddenly feel very very alone.

---

I've been in my room for about half an hour when the chime
sounds. I sit for a minute, not knowing how I'll react if
it's Tom or Mal – or worse still, both.

The chime sounds again, so I get up and press the button.
Mal's there. He's changed into casual clothes and he looks
appalling, wrecked. There's no life in his eyes, no colour
in his face. He looks sick. But right now I really can't
find it in me to care.

"What?" I ask, my tone flat.

He looks into my eyes, as if he's reading what he sees
there.

"There's nothing I can say to make you understand. Just... I
thought I was doing the right thing."

I stare at him. Somehow I didn't expect that. I thought
there would be excuses, I thought he might beg my
forgiveness.

"If you think you can no longer work with me then I shall
understand," Mal says. "But never think that I wanted to
hurt you."

He turns and walks away from me.

I don't know what to think. Mal seems to have gone into
tactical mode. Maybe he never really separates himself from
his work. I wonder what it is that allows him to justify
what he's done to himself. Because that's what he's done, or
at least, that's what I think he's done. How else can he be
so calm. In his head he's somehow figured out that what he's
doing is better for someone, and knowing Mal, it won't be
him. I'm so confused and angry that I know I won't sleep.

---

The next day I don't see Mal. I stay in engineering,
obviously giving off vibes that I'm really not in the mood
to interact with anyone, as my crew keep their heads down
and stay out of my way.

I'm in the office, trying to figure out some calculations,
when someone knocks gently on the door.

I look up and see Tom standing outside. I suppose I didn't
expect to see him today either, but as he's on duty in my
department he doesn't have much choice. He comes into the
office, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

"I don't know what to say, Trip."

I give a small huff of breath and shake my head. In truth, I
don't know either, but somehow I feel like he should be
making the effort, not me.

"I didn't know, Trip. I didn't know there was something
between the two of you. You've got to believe me. I would
never have done anything with Malcolm if I'd ever have
thought... but you like girls, Trip. Or at least... that's what
I thought."

I look up at Tom. He looks genuinely sorry.

"He didn't ever... even mention me?" I ask.

"Not... like that, no. I know that you two were friends, but I
never imagined it went further, Trip."

I nod slowly. I still feel angry at Tom, but I guess he
didn't know he was doing anything wrong.

"Why did you bypass the lock on my door?" he asks me.

I look up, surprised, although I know I shouldn't be. I
suppose I'd forgotten that I wasn't exactly being a model
officer myself, when I found them.

"I thought that there was something... I don't know. I suppose
I knew that something was going on."

"Why didn't you say something?" Tom asks. "You could have
warned me off, just had a quiet word. I never wanted to
tread on your toes, Trip. You could have just told me, I
wouldn't have said anything to anyone else and this would
never have happened!"

"I promised Mal that I wouldn't tell anyone about... us," I
answer. "He was... he didn't want anyone to know, onboard. I
think he's had bad experiences before, with things like
that, on ships."

Tom nods. "Or perhaps he tells that to everyone he has sex
with," Tom answers. "He said the same thing to me, Trip. Can
you be sure that he hasn't been with other people, since he
came onboard? Maybe I'm not the first? I don't want to upset
you... but you can't really be sure, can you?"

I stare at him, not wanting to hear what he's saying, but
knowing that it could be true. All the late nights, all the
times Mal doesn't come to bed when he says he will, the
times when I can't find him and he claims to be off in the
far reaches of the ship, embroiled in some work-related
problem. Maybe there are others. He's above suspicion, no
one would ever think it of him, the uptight Brit, whoring
himself all over the ship. Even now, with all the evidence,
I can't really believe that Mal would do such a thing.

"I'm sorry," Tom says. "Please don't throw away our
friendship over this. We agreed once, remember, that we'd
never fight over a woman. Don't let us lose the years of
friendship we had over a man."

I nod. "I can't just... forget this happened, Tom. But... I'll
try, I mean... " I wave a hand, and he nods.

Last night I could never have believed that my friendship
with Tom could ever be salvaged, but after hearing his side
of things a small part of me can't help but feel he's almost
as much of a victim as I am.

---

That evening I end up outside Jon's quarters. I need to talk
to someone, and it seems like he's the only person who I can
tell the whole story to.

I've hardly seen him all day, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't
know that anything's happened, but as he's been so kind to
me and Malcolm I figure it's only fair that I should keep
him in the picture.

"Jon, you got time to talk?" I ask as he opens his door.

He nods, a quizzical smile on his face. "Of course, come in,
sit down. You want a beer?"

I nod and sit on the chair by his desk. He passes me a
bottle and turns off the screen that he'd obviously been
watching water polo on, then sits on the bed.

I take a long draw of beer, then look down at the bottle in
my hands.

"It's about me an' Malcolm," I say.

He nods, frowning.

"We sorta... split up."

There's a long silence, Jon obviously doesn't know what to
say.

"Is this because of those pictures?" he asks. "I thought the
two of you had gotten over that? It's been weeks."

"It wasn't that," I answer, although thinking back on it
that was when Mal first started acting strangely around me.

"Then what? Have you had some sort of a fight?"

I shake my head. "It was... he slept with Tom," I answer.

Jon is stunned into silence, his mouth hanging open.

"Oh, Trip," he says after a while, his voice full of sorrow
for me. "I'm so sorry."

I just nod. There really isn't anything to say.

"What about Tom – I mean, are you two going to be able to
work together?"

"We had a talk today. He didn't know that Mal and I were
together. I can't blame him for... well," I shrug. "I think
we'll be all right."

"And Malcolm?" Jon asks, obviously apprehensive of the
answer.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "I don't know what to
think about Malcolm anymore."

"So the pictures – perhaps they showed us more of the real
Malcolm Reed than we thought?" Jon asks carefully.

I feel a flare of anger, because it still pains me to think
of Mal being abused like that, but I can't help wonder now
if he might be right. Maybe Mal hurt someone else like he's
hurt me, and they are out for revenge. Maybe he made up the
story about being drugged. I honestly don't know what to
believe anymore.

"I don't know. It... Mal cares about Starfleet. He won't do
anything to harm this ship. I guess if he can work with me
then... I'll manage too," I say. "Just don't push it," I warn,
knowing that Jon thinks he has a knack for diplomacy and
seems to enjoy trying to help people who would probably be
better off left well alone.

Jon holds up his hands. "I'll treat the two of you as if
this has never happened," he answers. "Although I don't see
why Malcolm should object to working with you, if he was the
one who cheated on you."

I can't meet his gaze. "I think... I said some things to him
that... they weren't exactly polite," I answer. "I haven't seen
him all day."

"Sounds like he's doing the wise thing and keeping his head
down," Jon observes.

"I really loved him," I say out of the blue.

Jon scoots across the bed and leans his elbows on his knees.
"There'll be others, Trip. You know that."

I look up at him. "He was special though – when I first met
him, I just knew. I made such a fool of myself and... I don't
know," I think back to those precious few hours we spent
together. I knew he was sleeping with other people then, and
it didn't bother me. Why am I so upset now?

"I can't believe that the two of you were seeing each other
before and you never told me," Jon says. "I mean, if he
meant that much to you, why didn't you say something back
then?"

"I never thought it would go anywhere," I answer truthfully.
"I didn't think we'd meet again – I didn't know he was going
to join Starfleet."

"Oh," Jon frowns. "So the two of you met in a bar or
something?"

"Something like that," I answer.

"And you didn't keep in touch? I mean, if the two of you
were so close... "

"It wasn't... " I think back to Malcolm explaining to me why he
hadn't accepted my offer all those years ago. "It wasn't
appropriate, at the time."

---

The next morning I get up early and head to Mal's cabin. I
know that I have to speak to him sooner or later, if we're
going to keep Enterprise running smoothly and I'd rather do
it off-duty.

There's no answer at his door, and for a moment I wonder
whose bed he's in, then I think more rationally. He often
goes to the gym in the morning, or he might have started his
shift early. I head for the gym first, because if he's
started work then I can hardly have the conversation I
intend to.

Sure enough he's working on the punchbag. I can see he's
putting every ounce of his strength into hitting the bag,
and the dent in it is impressive. Sweat is running from his
face and his tank is soaked.

"Mal – Lieutenant Reed?" I say, not knowing if he's ignoring
me or genuinely hasn't noticed me.

He stops punching and catches the bag, then wipes one taped
hand over his face and turns to look at me. His eyes are
red, and I could swear that not all the moisture on his face
is sweat.

"Whatever happened... with us, we've got to work together. I
just wanted to... I need to know we're going to be okay, on the
bridge or whatever."

He gives a curt nod. "I can assure you, Commander, that
nothing will affect my ability to serve Enterprise."

I leave it at that, turning and walking away. I know there's
so much more that needs saying, but I'm not sure that I'm up
to that yet – my emotions are still all over the place.

---

I wish that I'd had the courage to talk it out with him
then, because, a few days later, events occur that throw my
whole world upside down.

We find a planet that Jon takes an immediate interest in.
It's nothing special – well, only special in that we haven't
been planetside for weeks now, and everyone onboard get's a
bit stir-crazy. Jon thinks that it might be suitable for
some shore leave, so he arranges a landing party to go down
and have a look around.

I volunteer to fly the shuttle, and Jon tells Tom he should
come down to get his first taste of an alien world. For once
Jon doesn't argue when Mal asks to provide some security. I
think he's a little worried about arguing with Mal right
now, after all that has gone on.

The six of us travel down to the planet in silence, even
Jon's quiet, as he's chosen to pilot. Malcolm's issued us
all with phase pistols, so we look like we're going to war
rather than to try and find a nice spot on the beach for a
bit of leave.

When we land and open the door the warm air hits us. Malcolm
is first out of the `pod, followed by his two security
officers.

"Steiner, go left, Penfold, straight ahead," he orders,
breaking off to the right himself.

As they perform their choreographed moves Jon steps down and
stretches in the sunshine. It does seem farcical, the
security team sweeping the area whilst Jon looks more like a
tourist fresh off the transports in Florida, but I watch it
all without comment.

"Come on then, Tom," Jon smiles. "Set foot on foreign soil."

Tom jumps down, grinning. "It's not much different to
Earth," he observes.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," I drawl. "Until they find
some six foot long bug that's bright blue and tries to eat
your head."

Jon smiles. "T'Pol scanned the area. I'm sure she'd have
mentioned any predators."

"I'm just sayin'," I begin to protest about how not every
away mission has gone smoothly, when I realise I might sound
a bit like Mal, so I shut up.

Malcolm returns to us, not looking at Tom or me.

"Nothing to report, sir, the immediate area is secure. I
suggest we form teams of two and continue a sweep of the
area."

Jon nods. "Sure thing. Let's all look out for a good camp
site. Somewhere nice and flat, with some shade as well as
some water or something nearby."

I know that Mal will be fuming, as I'm pretty sure that's
not the sort of sweep he was meaning, but I don't even look
at him.

I pair up with Jon, leaving Tom and Malcolm with one of the
security team each. I know that Mal will have planned it so
that Jon, Tom and I should each go with one of the security
team, but I feel like spending a bit of time with Jon, so I
just set off with him without asking.

---

It's about an hour later, as Jon and I are walking along
next to a stream in some sparse woodland, that the
communicators crackle into life.

It's Steiner's voice, but shouting, and the tone tells us
something is desperately wrong.

"We're being attacked! About... two clicks north-west
of... we're... fire," the words are partly drowned out by the
sounds of weapons fire and other interference. I look at Jon
and as one we begin running.

I hear Malcolm's voice come over the channel demanding that
Steiner repeat their position and for a second I'm overcome
with relief that it's not him under attack. Although it
means that Tom is.

As we approach the area we can hear the weapons' fire. I
wonder what anyone can have done to provoke this sort of a
situation and pray that we come out of it without serious
casualties.

I can hear the distinctive sound of phase pistols, so Jon
and I slow down, trying to see any of our people.

I spot a uniform through the trees – someone is hiding
behind a rock there. I point them out to Jon who nods.

When we finally get close enough to see what's going on it's
obvious that we're outnumbered and losing fast. I can see
phase beams coming from behind another rock, but it's
impossible to tell if there are one or two people pinned
down there. The person we first saw is Tom, who looks to be
okay, apart from some mud on his uniform. I wonder if Tom
and Steiner were ambushed and managed to fight a few of them
off before running for cover.

"Trip, Captain," he calls to us. "They've got our boys
pinned down, I'm not sure what we can do."

"Call T'Pol," Jon orders me. "I'm going to try and work my
way around and help."

I nod, finding somewhere to hide. As I'm talking to T'Pol
the firing seems to intensify – it's almost deafening, and I
still haven't even seen one of the aggressors. I can only
assume that they're hiding on the higher ground. They're
using some sort of projectile weapon, making it hard to
gauge exactly where they're positioned, whereas the phase
beams pinpoint us far too well. I look across to Tom and see
him throwing something. I hope that his phase pistol hasn't
given out, because if we're reduced to throwing rocks then I
can't see how this will end well.

"Trip!" I suddenly hear Jon shouting. I stick my head around
the tree I'm hiding behind and see Jon firing wildly from
his own hiding place. "Quick, I need you to cover me."

I just nod, firing at where I think our enemy might be
positioned. Jon darts away and I lose sight of him, but I
see Tom making his way to my position.

"It's no good, we need to retreat," he calls. "They've got
everyone – I saw Reed and Penfold both go down, and I
haven't seen Steiner since the beginning."

My heart clenches and I feel sick. I know that in my head
I've told myself that I don't feel anything for Malcolm Reed
anymore, but my heart just won't give him up.

"Jon's gone down there," I point, still firing with my other
hand. "You lay down cover; I have to get him back."

Tom nods and takes over shooting. I follow Jon's tracks,
keeping low and moving fast, just like Mal taught me.

I see Jon with a body at his feet, but I know immediately it
isn't Mal – the build is all wrong. I rush to help, firing
over my head.

"He's still breathing," Jon shouts, grabbing Penfold's arm.
"Help me. I can't see anyone else."

I half drag half carry the security officer, Jon and I both
firing behind us as we go. Once we reach Tom he covers our
backs as we run for the shuttle.

Tom races in front of us as we near the shuttle, the firing
from behind us is now only sporadic and the engines need to
be initialised, so I half help Jon drag Penfold in through
the hatch, firing into the trees all the time.

As the shuttlepod takes off I'm shaking. I know I should be
helping Jon take care of our injured colleague, but all I
can think about is Malcolm.

"What happened?" Jon growls to Tom.

Tom doesn't turn around.

"I don't know – we were just walking along when suddenly –
they were there. They had their weapons drawn. I pushed
Steiner out of the way and ran myself. I didn't know what
else to do – I didn't understand what they were saying. I
heard Steiner calling for help, so I started firing – not
trying to hit them, just scare them away. Anyway, the next
thing I know, I see Reed and Penfold, but they were coming
in on our flank. I couldn't see everyone at once, but I
could hear the phase pistols. I think Reed was shouting
something, but I couldn't hear him properly. I tried to keep
moving, but I got pinned down. I saw Steiner... they shot him
in the head. I tried to shout out, to tell Reed to retreat,
but then... I'm sure he didn't make it. I saw him go down."

Jon looks up at me, both his hands pressing down on a wound
in Penfold's back which is pulsing out blood. I'm frozen, I
want to move, I know I should help, but none of my limbs
feel up to it, as if they're made of lead.

"Tell T'Pol to have Phlox waiting for us," he orders Tom,
his tone low and angry.

I don't really remember us getting back to Enterprise. I
move around not really seeing or hearing anything. All I can
think of is what I said to Mal that night and how now I'll
never speak to him again.

Tom sticks near to me, and although I don't want to, and I
know I'm just torturing myself, I have to ask.

"Tom... what happened? You said... you saw Mal?"

Tom looks distraught, but he nods. "I was just... I was going
to tell him to run – it was no use, we weren't... we weren't
going to win. I looked around and just... he stood up, and
started running. I think – I think he must have been trying
to get to Steiner, maybe he thought that... he could help. But
you could see he was dead, so I... he just ran, towards the
main lot of them. He was firing all the time, but there were
too many. I saw him hit, more than once. Then – I had to
take cover, but when I looked again they'd gone, and Malcolm
and Steiner too. I'm so sorry, Trip. But it was like... it was
like he'd gone mad. He just ran at them. He couldn't have... he
couldn't have expected to survive. It was suicidal."

I walk away from Tom without a word. I'm so numb that I'm
not even crying. Once I reach my quarters I just sit,
staring at the wall. I know that I should be on the bridge,
helping T'Pol with the scanner sweeps. Mal's body might be
down there, at least if I could just see him once more, even
if he were... dead... I could tell him I was sorry. He died... he
killed himself, thinking that no one cared for him, and I
know that I'll never forgive myself for that.

--

Hours later I haven't moved, the door chime finally pulls me
out of my thoughts.

"Enter," I call, my voice almost cracking.

"Trip," Jon says, walking in. "Penfold made it. He's just
come out of surgery. Phlox says it'll be a while before he
wakes up, but he's through the worst."

I nod, not caring, although I know I should. Malcolm always
said that life was important – any life. I wish I'd have
remembered that when I was ripping his to shreds.

"And T'Pol's still scanning but... there's nothing so far."

"How did I let this happen?" I ask Jon, tears flowing down
my face.

He looks shocked but quickly sits down, leaning close to me.

"This wasn't your fault, Trip. No one could have seen this
coming. There was nothing in the database to suggest that... "

"No," I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "I mean Mal. How
can I have let him die down there... and think that nobody
cared for him. He killed himself because he had nothing left
to live for." I know I'm getting hysterical, my voice is
raised and I realise I've got a fistful of Jon's shirt
twisted in my hand. I let go abruptly and turn away,
suddenly feeling sick again. I push myself to the bathroom
and puke in the sink. All I want to do is get away from
everything, to stop feeling like this. And in a sudden stab
of pain in my heart I realise that if I could run into a
hail of bullets right now, I probably would too.

"Trip, Trip," Jon pulls me close to him and holds me
tightly.

We stand like that for a long time, until I've stopped
crying. I'm exhausted, everything hurts and I know that I
don't want to climb into the bed in which I spent so many
nights with Malcolm.

"I'll come and see you again in the morning," Jon says to
me. I nod silently. "Try and get some sleep," he adds as he
leaves.

I lie down only because I don't have the energy to stand
anymore. I guess I sleep, exhaustion taking over, because
when Jon wakes me the next morning I haven't moved. I'm
still in my mud-stained sweaty uniform.

"There's still no news," Jon reports, looking guilty, as if
maybe he hasn't tried hard enough, which I know isn't true.
"Having heard the evidence Starfleet headquarters have
listed both Steiner and Malcolm as missing presumed dead.
They've asked that someone go through their personal
belongings. I thought perhaps, in view of your... past
relationship... you should be the one to look through Malcolm's
things. You don't have to do it right now – just whenever
you feel ready."

I nod. I know it has to be me to do it, and perhaps it's the
one thing I can do to give back Malcolm a little of his
dignity that so many people in his life tried to rob him of.
Maybe it will be good for me, too - cathartic, almost.

---

It's the middle of the afternoon before I can bring myself
to think about actually going into his quarters though, and
even then, the smell that still lingers in there – his
shower gel, his natural scent - almost makes me turn around
and leave.

I decide to start with the things that have the least to do
with him – I sit at his desk and look through the pile of
pads he has stacked up.

I try to detach myself from my task. This isn't Mal's cabin
anymore, it's just a grey room on a starship. The pads hold
schematics and information on everything from our systems to
upgrades he's been working on to entirely new ideas that
Starfleet have probably never dreamt of. Although this is
just work, it still says so much about Mal, about his
dedication, about his brilliant mind. I wonder how many of
these projects will stall now, I wonder if even the best
minds back at R&D will be able to continue with these
fledgling ideas. I certainly don't understand most of them,
not at first glance.

Some of the padds have passcodes on them, so I can't view
the contents. I know that I'll be able to break the codes,
maybe with some help from T'Pol, but right now I don't want
to get stuck on that, so I just pile them to one side.

Once I've been through everything that seems to be related
to the ship's business I turn and look at the rest of the
cabin. I just can't face the thought of going through Mal's
personal belongings yet, even though there aren't many of
them. I sit for a long time, just thinking about Mal,
thinking about the good times. And then about what he said
to me. He `thought he was doing the right thing'. How can
anyone ever think that cheating is the right thing to do? I
wish I knew what was going on between Mal and Tom. I should
have questioned it straight away – Mal's reaction to Tom
coming onboard, the way they behaved towards each other.

Even if Mal didn't know that I was going to find out about
what he and Tom were up to, what made him think that it was
worth throwing what we had away. Maybe I was right, and he
was just thinking about climbing the promotion ladder by any
means necessary. After all, it's not like he hasn't sold
himself like that in the past.

I scoop up the stack of encrypted padds and walk back to my
quarters. I start work on breaking the codes, most of them
not proving to be very difficult. It's only more schematics,
but most of it stuff with a security risk, so classified to
various levels.

I lean back in my chair, stretching. It's late, the chrono
showing that it's gone midnight. I notice that the message
light on my terminal is flashing, so I sigh and click on it.
I need to be back in engineering tomorrow, so if anything's
happened I should know about it.

There's a change to the duty roster and a note from Jon
telling me what's going on with the armoury personnel.
There's also an automated message with a headquarters flag
on it. I assume it's just some sort of update for us until I
bring up the main body of the message. Then I stare, my
mouth dropping open.


'Commander Tucker, if you are reading this then I have been
officially listed as dead. There is something you must do
for me. In my cabin above my Akh-do is something for you.
Remember the night we stayed up to watch that nebula,
drinking beers in your cabin? Imagine that's where I am now,
Trip, watching over you and Enterprise, seeing that you'll
be safe.

And Trip, please don't be sorry, because everything I did
was for the best, for all concerned, even if sometimes it
didn't seem that way. I'm just sorry that it's all over now,
because what we had was special – you were special. I never
wanted to hurt you, but some things were just too
complicated to explain, and I didn't want anyone else to
suffer as a consequence of my actions.

Take care, Trip. I know I can trust you to look after
Enterprise and her crew, but please, look after yourself
too.

Lt. Malcolm Reed.'


I read it again and again. Malcolm knew he was going to die,
just like Tom said. I can't believe I let this happen. I
can't believe he'd go to the trouble of setting up a stupid
message to be sent to me when his file was tagged as
deceased rather than coming and speaking to me.

I get up and walk to Mal's cabin, wondering what it is he's
left me. When I walk inside I stop dead. I'm not exactly
sure why, it's just some sort of sixth sense. I walk around
very carefully, almost tip-toeing, although I'm not sure
why. I notice that the stack of padds is very slightly out
of line – I'd left them perfectly, I'm sure, knowing that
even now he's gone, Mal wouldn't want anything out of place.
The bed is creased differently too – the blanket is no
longer tucked in with Malcolm's military precision.
Someone's been in here and searched the place, I'm sure of
it. At first I'm angry – no one but me should be allowed to
do this, no one should invade Mal's privacy in this way.

Then I stop myself. What if Mal did have other lovers –
other people who are eager to prevent any incriminating
evidence being found. Maybe he had messages sent to
everyone, each one with a different hiding place revealed.

I decide I don't want to think that way, so I pull open the
wardrobe door and look upwards. There's nothing above the
weapons bag that sits there, so I frown. Maybe someone else
has found whatever it is Mal hid for me. The anger returns
in me. I shove my hand up to the top of the wardrobe,
checking that there's nothing hidden on a ledge or taped to
the walls. As I touch the ceiling panel it moves slightly,
so I push harder. It lifts easily, as if someone's loosened
the clips. I reach my hand up and feel about – there's a
padd there, the shape instantly recognisable. I also feel a
small package, which I bring down too. It's a bag filled
with vials of liquid – the sort that fit into a hypospray. I
stuff them into my pocket, along with the padd, then
carefully replace the panel, checking that no one would be
able to tell that it's moved.

I walk to sickbay first, trying to gather my thoughts. Phlox
is working, his desk lit although the rest of sickbay is in
darkness.

"Doc?" I say softly.

"Ah, Mr. Tucker – and what can I do for you at this late
hour?"

"I was just wondering if you could do me a favour," I say,
keeping my voice soft. "I... found these, and I thought maybe
you could tell me what was in them?"

I hold out one vial, not willing to give them all up just
yet.

Phlox nods. "Might I ask where you found them? Drugs
shouldn't be left lying around for just anyone to pick up,
hmm?"

I shake my head. "It wasn't like that. I just... I'm curious,
that's all. They weren't lying around anywhere, don't
worry."

Phlox nods. "Give me a moment, Mr. Tucker, and I'll have an
answer."

He walks to one of his machines, breaking the top of the
vial and placing a droplet of the contents onto a small
metal plate. A few seconds later the screen flashes up
information which Phlox quickly scans.

"It's a strong painkiller, Mr. Tucker. One which should not
be used without medical supervision. If you are aware of
someone on board who has been abusing this substance I urge
you to tell me before they do themselves permanent damage."

I shake my head. "I don't think there's any danger of that
anymore, Doc," I say.

Phlox frowns for a second, then sighs. "Ah, do I take it
that we are referring to Mr. Reed?"

I nod sadly, wondering why Mal would ever keep a hidden
stash of drugs and realising that I should have realised
something wasn't right after the competition, all those
months ago. Maybe he's been using them, maybe that's what
clouded his judgement down on the planet. Or maybe he just
wanted to block everything out.

Before I can say anything else the doors slide open. Both
Phlox and I turn and Tom freezes in the doorway.

"Trip... Doctor, I, uh, didn't... um... "

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Davenport?" Phlox
enquires.

"Uh, no, I just came to see... " he gestures to the one
occupied biobed, where Penfold is still hooked up to the
monitoring equipment.

"There's been no change," Phlox replies.

Tom nods, then turns and walks away without another word.

I look at Phlox, who shrugs. "It seems Mr. Davenport has
taken an interest in Mr. Penfold's condition. It's not the
first time he's been in. Last night, in the early hours of
the morning he also visited. Claiming he couldn't sleep and
once this afternoon. I believe he is suffering from some
feeling of responsibility, for the crewman's condition."

I nod. It's always hard to come to terms with one of your
crew being injured or killed, and I suppose Tom's never been
through anything like this before.

"Thanks then, Doc, I guess I'll leave the rest of these with
you too then," I say, handing over the bag. Then as an
afterthought, "Could you just check that they're all the
same thing? I mean... just in case, you know?"

Phlox smiles widely. "Of course."

I sit at my desk and examine the padd. I'm tired now, but I
feel I owe it to Mal to find out what it is he left me. I
turn the padd on and the screen flashes up "Security
Recording: Starboard nacelle strut, level 3." I frown. I
can't imagine that anything much can have happened in one of
the struts – not that wasn't an immediate security concern.

I press the button to continue, but a warning comes up.
"Input security code."

Trust Malcolm, he couldn't make it easy for me, could he? I
frown and try to think of what some of the other codes I've
already broken were. There didn't seem to be much pattern to
them. I start trying to work on it, plugging it into the
computer, but I still have no luck. It's almost as if it's a
triple layer code, as none of the normal alphanumerical
programmes are having any luck at all. I wonder if I should
ask T'Pol for help in the morning – then I shake my head,
why would Mal leave me a padd for one of the most boring
areas of the ship and then put a code on it that I couldn't
crack?

I bring up the message he left again, to make sure that this
is what I'm meant to be looking at. Maybe he really left
something important in the vials, and the padd is some sort
of decoy. I read the message again. I wonder why he put in
the stuff about the nebula – I mean, sure, it was pretty,
and we had a great evening sinking beers as we watched it.
Most of the crew probably spent a few minutes gazing out at
it that night. But there was nothing special that I remember
– nothing happened that night that was out of the ordinary.

I try to remember if the thing had a name – I don't recall
that it did, but maybe Mal would have used that as some sort
of password, and that's why he referred to it.

I bring up the ship's logs and look back through them. We've
passed a lot of Nebulae, but I remember the one Mal's
referring to. It just has a code, not a name, so I put that
into the padd. Another passcode line, invisible before,
appears beneath the first. I groan. Then I work out that
it's the right number of spaces for a co-ordinate, so I put
in the first line of the nebula's location. Another line
appears, so I continue, then a third. Once the entire
location has been entered the padd goes blank for a second,
and I wonder if I've done something wrong – I even fear for
a second that it might self-destruct. Then it comes back to
life, a view of a darkened cabin is on the screen. This is
certainly not the vid from the nacelle strut.

The door to the cabin slides open, and I recognise Tom as he
walks in. I sit up, taking more notice now. Tom flicks the
lights on, he's whistling to himself as he pulls his uniform
off and heads for his bathroom. I begin to wonder if this is
some sort of home-made porn tape, and if so, why on earth
Mal thought that I would need to see it, but I keep
watching.

Tom dries himself off and dresses in casual clothes, then
sits at his desk, presumably working.

About ten minutes of silent vid footage of Tom barely moving
is broken when his door chime rings. He gets up and pushes
his hands through his hair, tugging his shirt straight.

The door opens to reveal Mal, still in his uniform.

"Malcolm," Tom says. "Glad you decided you could make it."

Mal doesn't answer, which is unlike him. He's normally so
polite to senior officers. He just pushes past into the
room.

"Hey, now," Tom turns around and closes the door. "There's
no need to be like that – it was your choice to come here."

"It was hardly a choice, was it, sir?" He spits out the last
word with contempt.

"Sure it was. And I kept up my end of the bargain, didn't I?
Got Trippy back to you safe and sound."

I stiffen, not sure I can believe what I've just heard.

Tom walks toward Mal, forcing him to back up against the
wall. He's a good few inches taller than Mal, and more
heavily built. I know Mal could probably still take him in a
fight, but that's obviously not on the cards here. "I know
you checked the conduits in engineering," he says, his face
right in Mal's. "So you know I wasn't lying this time, don't
you?"

Mal turns away, refusing to make eye contact.

"So what are you going to do for me? It better be good, or
Commander Tucker might not be so lucky tomorrow. What are we
doing? Ah, working on the impulse engines. Dangerous things,
they are – one false move and... "

Mal shrugs Tom off and pulls down the zip of his uniform.
It's obvious what's going to happen and I'm not sure I can
watch anymore. I hit the pause button, unable to believe
what I've seen. I look down at my arm, long healed now, and
realise why Mal was so worried. He thinks that it was his
fault. He had obviously not believed that Tom would really
harm me, and this had been the proof. I still can't believe
that he'd do what he did to save me. This was obviously his
way of gathering evidence against Tom, and he was just
biding his time until he could do something about it.

I fast forward through the vid, the sound off, only half my
attention on it because I really don't want to see it. I see
myself enter the room, and I don't need to hear what I'm
saying, because I remember all too well.

The tape runs on, after Mal leaves too. Then it pauses and
the picture has obviously been digitally enhanced as it
zooms down. It focuses on a patch of Tom's skin, on one hip,
and I see a mark there – a tattoo I think, of some sort. I
can't quite make out what it says, but it seems to be
letters or numbers. I frown, because I'm sure I've seen that
somewhere before, but I can't think where.

My comm. sounds, making me jump. I move to it, hoping it
isn't Tom, because I honestly don't know what to say to him
right now, I just want to rip him limb from limb.

"Mr. Tucker," Phlox sounds concerned. "I need you to come to
sickbay right away."

I wonder what he's found – the vials obviously held more
secrets.

"On my way, Doc," I answer. I stuff the padd in my pocket
and head out at a run. I haven't even put my shoes on.

I push through the doors of sickbay as they slide open,
looking for Phlox at his desk.

"Mr. Tucker," he says, from the other side of the room. "You
need to hear this."

I see that he's standing over Penfold's bed, and the man is
half-sitting up, his eyes open.

"Com..mander," he starts, obviously still groggy and weak.
"I don't think... Reed's... dead. He... Commander Davenport, shot
him, and then, I saw... and... he... me too. He'd... already
killed... Steiner. They... took Reed, but... he was still alive,"
Penfold finishes.

Suddenly it all starts to make sense to me. Malcolm wasn't
suicidal, but he obviously knew his life was in danger. He
was trying to expose Tom, trying to show him up for who he
really was. He must have thought I wouldn't believe him if
he just came out and told me – which, to be fair, I probably
wouldn't. And anyone higher up in command would most
certainly call into question Mal's version of events against
Tom's – especially if Admiral Davenport became involved.

The most important thing, though, is that this means that
Mal may well still be alive. Everyone went along with Tom's
version of events on the planet, and obviously Tom had tried
to silence Penfold in the same way he had done Mal. No
wonder he's been taking such an interest in Penfold's
recovery. Then it strikes me that he probably visited in the
small hours of the morning hoping that Phlox wouldn't be
around, so he could finish the job.

I rush to the comm. panel. "Tucker to Archer," I call,
knowing I'll be waking Jon.

There's a pause before he answers, sounding very sleepy.

"Trip?"

"Cap'n, I need you to turn the ship around – Malcolm's
alive, probably, on that planet. And I need security to
sickbay, I think Tom's trying to get to Penfold. And then I
need Tom put in the brig. I'll explain everything, but
believe me, Jon, this is important."

"What?" Jon sounds completely confused.

"Just... get security to put Tom in the brig, under guard. Then
get to sickbay. I'll take full responsibility if I'm wrong
about this."

There's a pause, then Jon answers. "Uh... yeah... okay," he's
obviously still half asleep and very confused. "I'll be
right there."

---

It's almost ten minutes before Jon finally appears – his
hair's messed up and his uniform is still half-undone, but
then I'm hardly dressed for business myself.

"What the hell's going on, Trip?" he asks as he strides
through the door. "If I've just locked up the son of one of
the most influential admirals on a hunch then you can kiss
goodbye to your career."

I shake my head. "Penfold – he came round. He said he saw
what happened on the planet. It wasn't the attackers who
shot Mal – it was Tom. And when he saw that Penfold
witnessed it, he shot him too. Phlox says he's been back in
here as well – probably to try to stop the story getting'
out."

Phlox nods beside me. "It's true, Captain. Commander
Davenport has shown an incredible interest in Crewman
Penfold's recovery, and has visited in the early hours of
the morning – probably presuming I would be asleep. He
obviously knows little about Denobulan physiology."

"He could have just been checking up on him! He probably
feels some responsibility – he was the highest ranking
officer there when all this happened," Jon protests.

"Penfold knows what he saw," I insist. "Tom shot Mal,
unprovoked attack. And there's somethin' else you should
know too."

Jon gives me a look that tells me to keep going.

"Tom was blackmailing Malcolm."

The look on Jon's face would be comical, were the situation
not to serious.

"And what makes you think that?" he asks, his voice sounding
a little odd.

"Mal left me a message – he knew something was going to
happen to him, and he recorded a message to be sent to me
when his file was flagged as deceased. He told me
everything, where to look for the evidence he had. Tom was
making threats against me, and to keep me safe Malcolm had
to... " I'm not sure I should say it, because now Malcolm might
be alive, and he wouldn't want anyone else to know.

"To what, Trip?" Jon demands.

"To sleep with him," I finish, my voice low.

"And you're sure... Malcolm didn't just invent all of this, to
explain to you why he cheated on you?"

I suppose it's a valid question – Jon doesn't know the full
story, he hasn't seen the evidence. But it makes my insides
boil with anger – anger at myself, because it's the question
I would have asked, and now I feel so awful for not giving
Malcolm the chance to tell me all this whilst he was here
and safe.

"No, there's... evidence," I answer. "And it all fits, now.
Those pictures – the ones which were sent to us. Tom was in
them. He was one of the people who raped Malcolm."

The room is silent.

"That was... those pictures... " Jon stutters.

"Yeah," I answer. "He was drugged, forced to do that, and
Tom was one of the people there, one of the people raping
him. Imagine the power Tom had over him – all Malcolm wanted
was a career, and he worked damn hard for that. He was one
of Starfleet's brightest minds – and that man reduced him to
nothing more than an object."

Jon looks at me, trying to take in what I'm telling him.
"Is, Trip," he finally says. "Malcolm is one of Starfleet's
brightest minds. And we're going to find him and get him
back."

--

The ship is set on course back to the planet – and I spend
my time fixing the engines to get them working above peak
performance – I tell myself it's so nothing will go wrong at
a crucial moment, but it's also to keep my mind off Mal. I
can get lost in the working of the various drives, and time
flies by. I almost feel guilty though, when I realise hours
have passed without me thinking of Mal and what he's going
through right now. I also wish someone was onboard who I
could trust to check out the weapons systems like he would.
His crew try, but none of them have the instinct that Mal
has.

I'm in the middle of re-routing some power away from an area
I want to work on when I realise we're powering down – the
ship is decelerating. I rush to check the warp drive, but
nothing's wrong, it's the helm who are slowing us. I hit the
comm. panel.

"Tucker to the bridge – why're we slowing?"

"Trip, come up here," Archer responds, not giving anything
away.

I run for the turbolift, and moments later I'm stepping out
onto the bridge.

"It just appeared, wasn't on our sensors or anything, then
it suddenly... well, you can see," Jon points to the viewscreen
where a large ship – much bigger than Enterprise – is
floating off our port bow.

"Well what do they want?" I ask. "We've got things t'do, in
case you've forgotten." I immediately wish I hadn't used
that tone in front of the whole bridge crew, but I can't
take it back now.

Hoshi is listening intently, and her hands fly over her
console.

She turns and looks at Jon, her face creased in a frown.
"Sir... I think they're saying they have Lieutenant Reed."

I stare open-mouthed and Jon jumps out of his seat. "On the
viewscreen, Hoshi," he orders.

The being which appears is remarkably human-like. Except for
the scales and the ridges that look more reptilian, which
stretch over its head and presumably down its back.

"I'm Captain Archer of the Enterprise – I understand you
have one of our people?" Jon says.

The alien begins speaking and the UT takes a moment to kick
in.

"I am Captain Armedus of the Jacar. We have a Human on
board, but we wish to change it. It is one called Davenport
we require."

Jon shoots a look at me. "We can't just give you our
crewmembers. You must return my officer – Lieutenant Reed.
What is it you want from Commander Davenport?"

"He has promised us information, now he has not delivered."

"Information? What information?" Jon asks.

"It is not your concern. Hand him to us, and we will return
the other."

Jon looks at a loss as to what to do. He turns to T'Pol,
signalling to Hoshi to cut the sound link.

"Sub-Commander?" he asks, obviously hoping she has more of
an idea of what to do than he does.

"I suggest, Captain, that we ask Commander Davenport what
they are referring to," she states, her expression impassive
as always.

Jon turns to Hoshi. "Tell them... tell them we're working on
it," he says, then leads the way to the turbolift.

As the three of us approach the brig I can feel the anger
building up inside me. If it was my choice I'd throw Tom to
these aliens and let them do whatever they wanted to him.
But I know that can't happen.

He doesn't bother to stand up as we all appear outside his
door. T'Pol quetly dismisses the crewman on guard duty.

"There's someone who wants to speak to you," Jon says, his
voice cold and hard. "Someone who says that you have
promised them something. Do I take it, Commander, that you
have been out here trying to sell Starfleet's secrets?"

Tom doesn't answer at first, then turns to look at us. "When
my father hears what you've done to me – what you're
accusing me of - you'll all suffer. He won't stand for it,
you know," he says.

"Right now I don't give a damn about your father," Jon spits
out. "But I do care that you have murdered one member of my
crew, injured another and have betrayed this organisation –
betrayed Earth – and for what? Why would you do that?"

Tom shakes his head. "You don't understand. You couldn't –
because it was all right for you, wasn't it? You hung onto
your father's coat-tails all the way to the captain's chair.
Do you think for a minute you would be here if it wasn't for
Henry Archer? You think you would have won this command post
on merit?"

Jon looks shocked, so I step in. "In case you hadn't noticed
the Cap'n and me worked damn hard on this project. He didn't
expect this – he worked for it."

"And I worked too, Trip – I worked for everything I've got,
and I'm still just a commander."

Once I would've thought that perhaps Tom did deserve to be
something more, but now I know his true character, I can't
even believe he's gotten this far. To think he was once one
of my best friends makes me worry about my judge of
character.

"And how many people suffered as you got to where you are?"
I say. "How many people did you take advantage of? How many
people did you hurt like you hurt Malcolm?"

He looks at me, eyes wide. "Malcolm?" he asks. "What's he
got to do with this?"

I turn away, unable to speak. How he can still pretend to be
innocent after everything is just beyond me. I turn back,
eyes blazing, determined that he should sit in the brig and
think about what fate awaits him.

"I've got all the evidence – Penfold told me you shot them
both, I've seen the video from your cabin on that night. And
I know it was you in those pictures, and it was you who sent
them. I've got all the proof that Starfleet will need. And
now, just to top it all, we have some alien ship sittin' off
our port bow telling us you've tried to sell them
information. There is nothing your father can do to save you
this time - nothing." I begin to walk away then, not wanting
or needing to see his reaction.

I'm about to hit the door release when I hear Jon begin to
cry out, I spin around, alarmed, only to see everything
shimmering around me. Enterprise fades out and when I blink
I'm in a light blue room, the brightness hurting my eyes. I
squint, and realise it's not just me who has been
transported, but all of us who were in the area – including
Tom.

We all look around, lost, when a door opens on the far side
of the room. The creature we spoke to on the comm. link is
there – or at least, it looks like him, but sometimes it's
hard to tell one alien from another. He's flanked by what I
presume are guards.

"We want only the one called Davenport," it states, looking
at us.

I use every ounce of concentration not to look at Tom.

"You can't just... " Jon waves his arms around. "We're
Starfleet officers, you can't just take us like this!"

The being looks impassive. "We have."

I step forward, not caring about the diplomacy or the rights
and wrongs. "Where's the officer you've got – where's
Malcolm?"

The alien turns to me. "You wish to see him?"

I nod.

He turns to one of the guards and quietly gives an order.
The guard leaves, and I hope this means that Mal is okay –
walking wounded, perhaps.

"You may take him back, if you give us Davenport. We had a
deal, and he has betrayed that trust. This is not
acceptable."

"It's not acceptable to us that he offered you a deal," Jon
counters. "He was betraying us – our planet. What did he
offer you? What information?"

"We will not say. This would not be in our interests," the
alien replies.

It's hard to know what to do – we're helpless, and I don't
see how Jon can talk us out if this. I just hope that
someone back on Enterprise is working damn hard.

The doors slide open and I feel sick as two guards drag Mal
into the room. He's a mess, his face bloodied and bruised,
his uniform ripped and he's clearly having trouble staying
upright. But his gaze is steady, and it rests on Tom.

"Tha's him," he slurs around swollen lips. "The one you
want." He raises an arm and points.

Two more of the alien guards step forward and grab Tom's
arms, he protests, trying to escape their clutches.

"Malcolm!" Jon obviously can't believe that Mal's just given
Tom up. Neither can I, to be honest. Even after all he's
been through, Mal just wouldn't normally do that.

"Captain!" Tom sounds desperate as he's dragged toward the
alien leader.

Mal looks at Jon. "He was trying to tell them everything.
Our schematics, capabilities, allies. He was selling
Starfleet out. I wouldn't tell them anything."

"But you can't... " Jon shakes his head in disbelief.

I can understand Malcolm wanting Tom dead, I suppose, but
even in his current state I can't believe Mal would think it
a good idea to just hand him over to these aliens. He still
has all the knowledge they want, after all.

Mal manages to stand on his own.

"'Ve given you wha' you wan'," he says wearily. "Now let us
go."

The leader nods at him once, and speaks into a small device
on his arm.

I feel the familiar tingle of the transporter, and this
time, as we fade out there's a light, a beam, and it's
coming from Malcolm.

Just as the alien ship disappears from my view I see Tom
crumple to the floor, the phaser beam having hit him full on
the chest.

I open my mouth, and as I materialise on Enterprise the
sound gathers around me, spilling out into the corridor
we're in, back outside the brig.

I see Malcolm heading for the comm., seemingly before he's
even fully re-formed. "Helm, warp-drive, now!" he shouts,
and milliseconds later I can feel the engines kicking in.

Mal is leaning against the wall, his head bowed, blood
dripping from his chin. I move toward him, still in shock
and not really sure I've seen what I thought I did.

"Malcolm!" Jon says sharply. "We can't just leave Commander
Davenport on that ship!"

T'Pol looks at Jon.

"I believe that Lieutenant Reed has solved that problem,"
she says, as calm as ever.

Jon turns to look at her, and I can't believe he missed what
happened on the ship.

"Lieutenant Reed shot Commander Davenport." She takes two
strides and removes the phase pistol from Malcolm's hand,
examining it. "It is set on kill."

I feel myself going cold. I mean, I knew that Mal had done
it, but somehow the confirmation still chills me to the
bone. The fact there was no hesitation on Malcolm's part,
and as he turns to look at Jon now, there is no sorrow in
his expression.

"I fully expect you to court martial me, sir," he says. "But
I could see no other way out. We could never have got
Commander Davenport back from the Eeshkree, and if they had
him then they would also have all the knowledge he
possessed."

Jon looks completely lost for words. I wonder if he's going
into shock.

"If the commander had returned to Earth," T'Pol says slowly.
"He would have been tried for the murder of Crewman Steiner.
He would have been sentenced to life on a penal colony. For
many, I believe that death would be a welcome alternative."

Jon turns to her, his mouth opening and closing.

"It would also have brought considerable... dishonour... on his
family and onto Starfleet. Humans are often worried by the
thought of invasion or attack by another species, it seems,
and the publicity which would surround this matter on Earth
would only serve to confirm some of their worst fears.
Whilst Vulcans would not find the death of the offender a
suitable alternative to trial and punishment, there are many
species who would."

I look at Malcolm. I don't know what I expect to see in him,
but when I see nothing it both saddens and almost disgusts
me. I've never killed anyone, and I can't imagine what it
would feel like, but I know I would feel something. To think
that after everything we've been through, Malcolm can still
hold his emotions under such a tight rein really does make
me wonder if I'll ever really know the true Malcolm Reed.

I thought we'd come a long way since the first time I'd met
him, on the cold rainy streets, but now I wonder if we've
just come full circle. I couldn't read him then, because he
didn't want me to see who he really was, and what he was
doing to secure his place in Starfleet, and I can't read him
now, now that he's committed an act which might well be the
end of his career.

Jon finally manages to speak. "Malcolm, go to sickbay. Trip,
make sure he gets there. T'Pol, with me."

We walk toward sickbay in silence, Mal occasionally
staggering slightly. I want to help him, but I can't. He
doesn't acknowledge my presence.

Finally, when we're in the turbolift he clears his throat
slightly. "It's not the first time I've killed," he states,
his voice flat and emotionless.

And I know it isn't – I've seen him blow ships out of space.
But that wasn't the same – that wasn't as real. He wasn't
killing someone I knew then.

"I know." My voice sounds hollow.

"They would have attacked Earth. The things they asked me,
the things they tried to beat out of me. He was going to
give them that information, Commander, for the price of a
ship of his own."

I nod, but I'm not really taking the words in.

Phlox tuts when he sees Malcolm and busies himself with
scanners and hyposprays. He begins by mopping the worst of
the blood away, leaving just the cuts on Mal's face visible
– the red deep and vivid against his pale skin.

When he moves on to removing Mal's clothing the bruising is
dark, a multicoloured testament to the savage beating Mal
must have taken. I wonder if he was of sound mind when he
shot Tom. He seems to know exactly what he's done, but there
could be a way we could twist it to make it seem as if he
wasn't in control when he did it. Although going to court
martial with that sort of defence will probably get him
thrown out of Starfleet.

Jon and T'Pol appear in sickbay whilst Phlox is still
working on Mal. Jon's expression is grim.

"Cap'n?" I question.

"I've been in contact with Starfleet Command," he says.
"I've told them that Commander Davenport was killed."

My face falls. "What did they say?"

"They said they'd inform Admiral Davenport that his son had
been killed in the line of duty. I explained that we
couldn't recover the body."

It takes me a moment to understand what he's telling me.

"You... didn't say... I mean... Malcolm... " I stutter.

Jon glances toward the biobed, and I see that Malcolm is
watching us intently.

"We keep the truth between the four of us. No one else ever
need know."

I can see the toll this is taking on Jon, and I appreciate
what he's doing.

"It's the right thing to do," I say softly.

He nods once. "I know."

T'Pol steps forward. "I think perhaps it would
be... advisable... for the four of us to discuss the matter,
once Lieutenant Reed is fit to do so. It is important for
Enterprise that this matter is resolved between you all."

Jon and I both nod.

When Phlox has finished with Malcolm he doesn't look much
better, but the blood has stopped flowing and he's clearly
half knocked-out by pain medication.

"Can I ask you to escort Mr Reed back to his quarters?"
Phlox says to me. "And it would be advisable if you could
remain with him – I don't feel he needs to stay in sickbay,
but I don't think he should be left alone either."

I nod and wait for Mal to ease himself off the biobed. The
walk to his cabin is clearly painful for him, but he doesn't
say anything, and once inside he carefully drops onto his
bunk.

"You okay if I stay with you?" I ask, still not entirely
sure how welcome I am.

Malcolm nods.

I sit on the chair, elbows resting on my knees.

"I read the message you left – it came through when you were
reported missing presumed dead."

He nods again.

"You could have told me, about Tom," I continue.

"I doubt you would have believed me," he says. "I would have
sounded vindictive, bitter."

"You could have tried – he hurt you Mal."

"And he threatened to hurt you. The word of a rentboy, a
whore, against that of a commander – the son of an admiral?
No one would have believed me, and in the time it took to
get the evidence he would have had you killed, Trip – and
maybe others too. He picked you because he knew you would
trust him, he could get close to you – he had no idea we
were together, that was just pure luck for him. He knew that
I would do whatever it took to save the life of any person
on this vessel. But the fact he would call you a friend, yet
be willing to kill you for no reason... I couldn't forgive
that, Trip. I could never forgive that. And once he was out
here he was free to sell Starfleet out to the highest
bidder. All he wanted was power. I didn't want to kill him,
but I can't say I'm sorry that I did."

I wonder how else this could have ended. I wonder if there
was any way in which everyone could have lived. I begin to
think there wasn't.

"The captain... he's protecting you, us, Tom – no one's ever
going to know about this," I say. "Starfleet will believe
whatever we tell them."

Mal nods. "It's for the best – for Starfleet. No one wants
to think we have people out here who are willing to betray
Earth."

It worries me to think there could be others like Tom, but
I'm glad that there are also people like Mal, people who are
willing to do whatever it takes. I don't think I could. I
don't think I could have pulled that trigger, no matter what
the stakes were.

"Commander, Lieutenant," Jon greets us curtly as we walk
into his ready room together.

"Captain," Malcolm responds, standing to attention.
"What happened, on that ship, yesterday... it must never be
spoken of. It was perhaps one of the darkest hours in the
history of this organisation. But I hope it will serve to
make us stronger – I hope that out of the tragedy we can
learn. What Commander Davenport did was unforgivable, but I
hope we can all take the time to step back and look at our
own actions to. I can't help but think that somehow this
entire situation could have turned out differently, but
there's no point on dwelling on what could have been. This
ship has a mission, and I believe we have the finest crew
and the finest vessel, and I intend us to be a beacon of
hope to Earth. If anything ever becomes public regarding
what has happened in the last few days then Starfleet – and
in turn, Earth – may never recover from it."

We both give the smallest of nods.

"Malcolm... I want you to know that you are the finest
tactical officer I have ever worked with. I can't condone
what you did – but I think... I think T'Pol has helped me
to... comprehend the reasons behind your actions."

Malcolm nods curtly.

---

We don't talk about it, Mal and I. I suppose there really
isn't much to be said. I want to ask some questions, but I
don't know how. The news filters down that Admiral Davenport
is going to leave Starfleet – take early retirement. Malcolm
doesn't react to it. I don't think he lets himself.

There are times I wonder what would have happened if I
hadn't ever met Malcolm – if he hadn't joined Starfleet. I
wonder if Tom would still be alive – I wonder if Earth would
still be intact. If Mal hadn't been so determined – so
single minded - that he would let nothing stand between him
and Starfleet then we could all have been destroyed.

When he told me, in his dingy room, that he had grander
plans for his life I would never have believed that one day
we might owe the survival of the human race to the rentboy
who stood in front of me.

---

The End