The BLTS Archive - Reunion
Fifth in the Too Stubborn To Die series
by Hel Bee (hlb15124@yahoo.com)

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Spoilers: Set several months after 'These are the Voyages... '

Beta: Rakina and Charlene

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek – any of it! AN:

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Phlox had been true to his word. All the augmentations that had been
made to his body had been removed without a trace. Trip ran his
fingers over his forehead, his eyes skirting his face in the mirror.
His skin was once again fair, his hair blond and, much to his relief, 
his eyes were blue. The reversal had taken over a week, Phlox refusing
to carry out too much surgery in on one go, and the drugs to rework
his blood chemistry couldn't be rushed. He'd cut himself shaving that
morning, his blood had been red and he'd been ecstatic.

Trip stepped away from the mirror and padded over to the closet in his
hopefully temporary quarters. He dressed carefully, stopping to
examine the scars his Romulan mission had left him with. Phlox would
remove them when he was back to full health, but for now they remained
as a reminder of the last year.

Today he was going to go against the advice of his Starfleet appointed
psychiatrist. He was going to contact Jon and Malcolm. The shrink had
told him he wasn't ready for such an emotional event, but Trip knew
himself better than Dr Ripley. Running from his demons was not an
option; cowardice would not help him heal. If he wanted his old life
back he would have to fight for it; even if there was the possibility
that his husbands no longer wanted him.

At least Phlox had agreed with him, though he had stated the caveat
that he wasn't an expert in human psychology, something Trip had
dismissed saying that Phlox knew more about him and his needs than any
appointed Starfleet quack. To that end, Phlox had contacted Jon and
Malcolm, warning them of Trip's intentions and so they would both be
at the apartment when he called.

He couldn't believe his own nervousness, worse than when he had
finally plucked up the courage to tell his parents that we was about
to embark on a marriage to two men. For once his parents' eccentricity
had worked to his advantage, his mother quite calmly stated that Trip
needed a firm hand, and two pairs would be a distinct advantage. His
father had just smiled and patted him on the shoulder, saying that the
Tucker clan would welcome anyone who was his choice.

His parents were all too a painful reminder that in the eyes of the
Earth he was still dead, a situation Starfleet, in particular Section
31, wanted to maintain. Trip knew it had to be the case, but he was
still petitioning for the right to at least tell his folks he was
alive.

Trip sat down in front of the viewscreen, wiping his sweaty palms on
his jeans. With a few touches to the screen his call connected and he
stared into his husbands' apprehensive faces.

Malcolm, his brow creased with worry, spoke first. "Trip?"

"Hey," Trip replied softly, "you two look great."

Jon smiled, but Trip could see that his older husband's concerns kept
the smile from his eyes. "How are you doing?"

"Finally beginning to feel human again," he admitted. Trip sighed
deeply and ran his hands nervously through his hair. "God, I've missed
you both so much."

Malcolm looked suspiciously close to tears. "I though we'd never see
you again. Trip, we need you here. I need to touch you, just to make
sure that you're really alive!"

"I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?" His plea was impassioned, and
he knew he sounded desperate, almost needy. This need was almost
suffocating, so different from how he had been before he'd gone to
Romulus. But now he had to hope that they could forgive him. Not just
the lies, the betrayal of his wedding vows, but of keeping his
distance. Creeping away to lick his wounds, like a coward, he
chastised himself, a coward unworthy of the love he saw on the faces
of the men on the viewscreen.

"There is nothing to forgive," insisted Malcolm, and Trip saw him lean
closer to the screen. "We know what happened and why you had to do
what you did. I know at the moment you probably won't believe me, but
I am very grateful – I couldn't have done it."

"I..."

"We need you, Trip. We always have." It was Jon was had spoken. "Is
there somewhere we can meet face to face?"

"I suppose so." His answer was uncommitted, uncertain if he was ready
for that yet.

"We need this, Trip. I know things can't go back to how they were
before –"

Trip interrupted Jon. "I understand that you mightn't want to continue
what we had."

"No!" The cry came simultaneously from Malcolm and Jon.

Malcolm laid a hand on Jon's forearm, a clear signal that he wanted to
speak. "Listen, you stupid yank. We just want to give you time to
adjust, there is no way on Earth I'm going to allow this marriage to
end."

It was the unexpected term of endearment that had grabbed his
attention. Trip smiled slightly, although both of Malcolm's husbands
were American, he reserved 'stupid yank' solely for Trip. "Give me a
week, and then we'll meet. I promise."

Jon returned his smile. "Take as long as you want, Trip. Just let us
know when and where."

---

Although seeing Trip walk away after the debriefing was hard, Malcolm
understood his husband's need to retreat; however, he also knew Trip
well enough to know that the man would no doubt castigate himself for
it. Trip had, for all his outward southern charm, been essentially a
private man. He internalised things, preferring his own counsel before
turning to someone else for advice. Jon said it was because Trip was
so stubborn, but then the three of them had in the past argued long
and hard about each others coping mechanisms. Trip was hard as nails –
rarely shaken – but even with the small amount of time they had seen
him Malcolm could tell he was falling apart. And now it was Jon and
his responsibility to put their engineer back together again. Even
from the start, Trip had been hard to win over, to accept that both
Jon and Malcolm wanted him, and now Malcolm hoped they didn't face
another battle to persuade him that they very much wanted to keep him
in their lives. And if it took knocking the stupid yank out stone cold
and dragging him back to their apartment so be it.

Trip had surprised them with where he had wanted them to meet.
Although with careful consideration it made sense, which was why Jon
and Malcolm were heading to the captain's quarters of the now
decommissioned NX-01.

Malcolm guessed that Trip was owed more favours than anyone else in
Starfleet – even Jon – and he had called in at least one of them.
Enterprise was now in permanent orbit around Earth, with plans
currently underway to make her into a museum ship. She certainly
seemed perfectly preserved, thought Malcolm as they had come aboard.
He could think of nowhere better to attempt to salvage their marriage
than the place their relationship had begun.

It was strange to be aboard without the rest of the crew; there was a
small security team who patrolled the decks, but once the warp engine
had finally been taken off line Enterprise had been allowed to rest.
Jon grabbed his hand as they stopped outside the captain's quarters.
Trip was already here, the presence of a Starfleet shuttlepod was
testament to that. He squeezed Jon's hand. "It'll be all right."

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" chuckled Jon. Malcolm smiled and
lifted Jon's hand to his face, gently kissing his knuckles, then
reached out and opened the door.

The door slid back to reveal Trip, he'd been staring out of the
porthole but had turned to face them once the door had opened. Malcolm
heart raced faster and before he knew it Jon had closed the distance
and now held Trip firmly in his arms. Not to be outdone, Malcolm
joined them, wrapping his arms around the two men he loved.

"Bloody hell, you feel good," purred Malcolm.

"Been far too long," agreed Jon, who seemed as set as Malcolm on not
wanting to let go of Trip.

Somehow Trip managed to extricate himself from his husbands' clutches
and stepped back. "I was worried you wouldn't come."

Jon stroked Trip's cheek and smiled. "Wild Klingons couldn't have kept
us away."

"Glad to hear it."

Malcolm took hold of one of Trip's hands and Jon did the same. "Come
home, Trip."

Trip smiled weakly. "I want to, but I need some time, a bit of space."

"Whatever you want," said Jon sincerely. "We know it's been difficult
for you. But together we can solve anything."

Trip licked his lips and Malcolm could sense his nervousness. "I don't
think I'm ready to be your husband...  er...  physically this is."

Malcolm grabbed him, puling Trip so he looked directly in his eyes.
"Only when you're ready. We won't push you."

"You could have the spare room, if you want," offered Jon, and Malcolm
knew it was not the solution either of them wanted, but it was good
idea.

Trip slumped forward, laying his head on Malcolm's shoulder, and
Malcolm felt the sobs wrack his husband's body. Jon tried to comfort
him by stroking his back and they all dissolved together into a heap
on the floor, Trip's larger frame too heavily for Malcolm to support
on his own.

Trip looked up and stared between his husbands, his eyes red from the
tears but his blue eyes sparkling with hope and relief. "I want to
come home."

---

Sometimes it was hard for him to believe he had been back six months.
There were moments, when he was alone, with his eyes closed, that he
thought he was still on Romulus, expecting the call to attend the
Senate. But they were few and far between now, as were the insidious
feelings of self-loathing thanks to his counselling sessions and his
husband' considerate attentions.

They had celebrated the anniversary of their marriage in style: an
extravagant dinner at an impressive restaurant and now, back at their
apartment, Trip lay with his head on Jon's lap. His older husband
stroked his hair while Malcolm sat under his feet on the large
comfortable couch. He stretched languorously, not missing the spark of
heat in Jon's eyes as he did so. Neither of them had pushed him when
he had returned, allowing him to spend the first few awkward weeks in
the spare room before crawling into bed between them late one night
after a particularly vivid nightmare. Over the months the intimacy had
slowly returned, but he yet to let either of husbands take him. But
now relaxed, happy and safe Trip decided he was ready.

With a supreme effort he got off the sofa, Jon and Malcolm muttering
in disappointment as he did so. "Stop your moaning," he grinned
seductively, "and come to bed."

Trip was already in the bedroom and had removed several items of
clothing before the other two men had joined him. He was in control
here, he got what he wanted and tonight would be no exception. Jon 
and Malcolm were undressing too and, naked, Trip crawled onto their
large bed, beckoning them to join him.

He pointed at Malcolm. "Lie down," he ordered. "Feet towards the
pillows."

Malcolm, he reflected had always been very good at following orders,
and he rewarded him with deep and passionate kiss. He knelt up on the
bed and looked at Jon, a hungry expression on his features. "Do you
know what we're gonna do?"

Dumbstruck, Jon just shook his head.

"Me and Mal are gonna suck each other, and you're gonna fuck me."

Jon strode forward and grabbed him hard as he knelt on the bed. "Are
you absolutely sure."

"Positive."

Jon's kiss was demanding and wild. "Then you'd better take your
place."

Malcolm was grinning lustfully, and Trip hurried to straddle him on
all fours. He felt the Englishman's mouth close around his aching
cock, and thought it was only gentlemanly to return the favour. Jon
was now standing behind him, his fingers slicked with lube. He moaned
with the pleasures of fingers preparing him and the sensation of
sucking Malcolm's cock while Malcolm sucked him. Jon was careful,
taking his time and Trip appreciated it, but now he wanted more. He
pushed back as Jon began to slide in, rocking forwards and back, to
feel as much as he could. A muffled grunt below, warned him to be
careful and he licked the whole length of Malcolm's cock as an
apology.

Together they moved, Jon thrusting deep into his husband as Malcolm
and Trip worshiped each other orally. Trip, overloaded with sensation
came first, Malcolm close behind. Malcolm quickly moved out of the way
and watched through satiated eyes as Jon rode Trip, the older man
beautiful as his orgasm struck.

Later, once cleaned and his husbands assured he was more than all
right, thank you very much, Trip cuddled close to Jon as Malcolm
wrapped himself behind him. He smiled into Jon's chest hair and sighed
happily. There was still much to work through, after all he was still
officially dead, although he thought he was real close to getting
Starfleet's permission to tell his folks he was alive. Then there were
potential new assignments to consider. But, for now everything else
could wait, he was home.

---

THE END