The BLTS Archive - Cold Comfort
#2: Discomfort
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

---

Spoilers: Very mild for "Dawn" possible for "Shuttle Pod 1" and
"Desert Crossing"

Archive: Yes to EntSTSlash, EntFic, WWOMB, Tim Ruben, tuckerreed only

Authors Note: Thanks to Brian and RedHead for all the help with ideas
for this series. You're the greatest!

Disclaimer: The universe belongs to Paramount, but the night belongs
to us pussycats. I don't want money for this; just throw fish!

Authors Note: Canon doesn't give us any time frame between Minefield
and Dawn. Minefield has no known date listed, according to canon. The
events of Precious Cargo and The Catwalk occurred in September 2152.
Hence I have taken some license with the timeline and said that
Minefield was only a 'couple of months' prior to the events in Dawn.
If I am proven wrong at a later date, then so be it, but since there
is no firmly established timeline, I hope you will tolerate my
appropriating time to fit the story.

---

Commander Trip Tucker was sore. His skin still smarted from the
sunburn he'd received on that alien moon. The doctor had given him
cream to put on it that had helped a lot, but there was some residual
soreness that Phlox said would fade, 'with time,' Tucker sighed and
shrugged his shoulders against the fabric of his uniform. It hurt.

The sunburn wasn't the only thing that pained him though, he was
hurting for a reason that went beyond the physical discomfort of too
much solar radiation.

Malcolm hadn't even bothered to see if he was alright. When Tucker
returned to the ship, the captain had come to sickbay, but Reed had
not.

Trip told himself that the lieutenant was on duty and would probably
call by after his shift. They'd had this unspoken routine since being
stranded without power aboard shuttle pod 1. Whenever one or the other
was involved in a dangerous situation, they'd look in on each other;
even before they had begun to explore the possibility of something
deeper than friendship. That Reed hadn't done it this time, hurt more
than the commander wanted to admit.

After saying goodbye to the alien Zho'Kaan, Tucker made his way back
to his quarters. Some more of that cream seemed like a good idea right
about then, and besides, maybe Malcom would come by soon.

Tucker remembered making what he feared may be his final log entry
before he was rescued. He had known that he was rambling, his mind was
losing focus, but he wanted to record those last words. Thinking about
it now brought a wry smile to his lips as he remembered berating Reed
for doing the same thing back on Shuttle pod 1. {What's wrong with
having a little hope, Malcolm?} Tucker keyed the entry code to his
quarters and stepped inside when the door slid open. He had all but
given up hope down there on that moon; a dying alien lying nearby, the
heat becoming more intense by the moment. Tucker never had coped well
with hot weather.

He'd said he didn't regret any of it. That wasn't entirely true. The
part about spending the night with a princess...that one he did
regret, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to say it in an official
log. They were out here to explore, they were heroes; heroes weren't
permitted to have regrets. Not officially anyway. Tucker unzipped his
uniform and reached for the tub of soothing cream that he'd left on
his bedside cabinet.

Smoothing the cream over his shoulders and chest, he closed his eyes.
The stuff had something in it that felt deliciously cool to his
burning skin. The only thing that could possibly make it feel any
better was if Malcolm had been there to rub it in for him. The thought
of Malcolm's hands on his body caused an involuntary shudder, and an
immediate stirring down below. Tucker shook himself. He replaced the
lid on the tub and lay down on his bed. Maybe he'd just close his eyes
for a minute or two. Malcolm had the code for his cabin; he had let
himself in before.


He dreamed he was back on the alien moon. The sun beat down on him
without mercy and he felt his skin blistering. He thought he should
put his shirt back on, but the effort seemed too great. He only had
strength to nudge Zho'Kaan awake and offer him more of the putrid
brown fluid the creature consumed.

Dragging himself to all fours, he caught hold of the alien's knee and
weakly shook it.

"Hey! Hey! Wake up!"

There was no response and Tucker dragged himself up to look into
Zho'Kaan's face. What he saw made him recoil in horror. It wasn't the
alien he'd been marooned with. It was Malcolm. Cold, frozen; his skin
deathly pale. Suddenly, Tucker was chilled. He shivered and wrapped
his arms around himself to try and keep warm. The blanket was gone,
and he couldn't see it anywhere. He bent over Malcolm and shook him.

"Malcolm! Malcolm, wake up!" The man didn't respond and Tucker
realized with a sinking feeling of dread that his lover had died. He
shook his head in denial and lurched backwards. "No!"

And then the captain was dragging him to his feet. "Come on, we hafta
keep moving, we need to get to shelter before those ships return."

Trip's ribs hurt and his throat burned with thirst. He wearily forced
one foot to move in front of the other. "Ya oughta leave
me...I'm...I'm no good. I..."

"I'm not leaving you, Trip."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"Why, Trip? That's what I don't understand. Why?"

Tucker looked up at Jon, why were they having this conversation? He'd
never done anything to hurt his best friend. This wasn't right. He
found himself looking into pain darkened grey-blue eyes.

"Malcolm?"

"I don't think this is going to work," Malcolm said. He turned away
and Trip lurched after him, dragging himself through the scorching
sands that seemed to cling to his feet and legs, making it impossible
to walk.

"Malcolm! Stop! Wait!" He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. He
couldn't go any further. He was too tired.

Icy cold hit him like a solid wall. Tucker flinched and huddled into
himself with a groan of distress. He lifted his head and looked
around. He was aboard Shuttle Pod 1, on the access ladder that led
into the airlock. Malcolm stood below, pointing a phase pistol at him.
Tucker shook his head in confusion. "You're dead," he said and his
heart began to race with the dread of those words.

Malcolm stared up at him, his eyes hard and cold.

"Plenty phases me," he said. "Like having my heart stomped all over by
you. *That* hurt."

He turned the phase pistol to point at his heart. Malcolm was still
staring into Tucker's eyes as he pressed the trigger.

"NO!"


Tucker bolted up in his bed. His heart raced out of control as the
images from his nightmare slowly faded. He breathed hard and fought to
kick free of the the sheet which had become tangled around his legs.
Rubbing at his face with the palm of one hand the commander cast a
glance at the chrono beside his bed. 0100. Malcolm hadn't come.

His cabin was too cold. The thermostat needed adjusting, but he sat on
his bed for a long time without moving.

After adjusting the thermostat, Tucker returned to his bed and lay
down on his stomach. His shoulders tingled with a sensation like pins
and needles, only sharper, but he didn't have the energy to put more
cream on his skin. For the first time in five months, he felt truly
alone.

---

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stood in the corridoor, staring at the button
that would sound the door chime. Gnawing on his bottom lip, he glanced
both ways along the hall and then stabbed at the button with one
finger.

The muffled: "C'm'in!" sounded sleepy and he wondered for a moment if
this was really a good idea. It was, after all, past 0200 and he
should have been sleeping; just as the cabin's occupant obviously had
been. He took a backwards step and was about to walk away when the
door slid open.

"Malcolm?" He was greeted with a sleepy smile and waved into the room.

"Sorry to come here at such an ungodly hour," Malcolm muttered.
"I...couldn't sleep."

"It's okay," Travis replied. He reached for a shirt and pulled it over
his head. "Did you go to see Trip?"

Malcolm shook his head and eased himself into a chair. "No."

"Okay." Travis sat on the side of his bunk. The one above it was
empty; his bunkmate was on Gamma shift. "Why not?"

"I don't know." Reed gave an exasperated sigh. "I wanted to. I...I'm
confused, and I suppose in a way I still wanted to hit back." He shook
his head. "Stupid."

"No. It's not stupid." Mayweather stood up and went to the small
cooler. Taking out a bottle, he waved it towards Reed in query. When
the Brit shook his head, he fetched a glass and poured himself some
water, moving back to the bunk before he sipped it. "It's
understandable. From what you've told me, you and the commander were
very ... serious. I'd probably feel the same way you do."

"Thanks." Reed rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. "God, I'm
tired," he muttered. "I don't think I've had a full night's sleep
since before the storm hit us."

"You really care about Commander Tucker, don't you?"

Malcolm gave a short, mirthless snort of laughter. "Yes. Imbecile that
I am. I can't turn that off, you know? Even with all that's
happened..."

Mayweather nodded and drank the last of the water in his glass. "Yeah.
I know how *that* feels."

Malcolm looked up, studying the younger man for several moments in
silence. He raised an eyebrow.

With a smile, Travis shook his head. "It happened a long time ago," he
said, dodging the unspoken question.

"I feel like such an idiot!" Sudden anger flared, and Reed got to his
feet, pacing the confined space of Mayweather's cabin. "He's so
goddamned cocksure that I'll take him back. Even his so called apology
smacked of arrogance. If I *do* take him back, he's going to gloat
about it for a month!" He stopped and looked at the ensign. "If I
don't..." he swallowed convusively. "You know there's a part of me
that says I should give him a taste of his own medicine...I should let
him see how it *feels* to be played for an idiot."

"Is that what you want to do?" Mayweather asked.

"I don't know. I just feel the need to do *something* I feel like...I
feel he doesn't really understand how seriously it hurt...he's always
so..." Reed stopped short of using the word shallow, but it had
crossed his mind more than once that Tucker obviously hadn't been as
committed to their relationship as he was himself. He let out a breath
and shook his head. Returning to his seat, he looked into Mayweather's
eyes. "I think I'm going to break it off."

"Malcolm...are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Mayweather
stared into his friend's eyes. "I know you're hurting. You've got a
right to be. But..."

"*He's* the one who broke our relationship," Reed said.

"True." Travis set his empty glass on the floor by his feet. "But you
haven't really given him much of a chance to fix it."

Malcolm felt a surge of irritation at the remark, but he bit his
tongue against the angry words he wanted to fling. He closed his eyes
and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He knew he was
tired and likely to make hasty decisions because of it. Malcolm stood
up. "I should go," he said softly. "I've taken up a lot of your time
lately." He offered his friend a small smile. "I appreciate your
putting up with me."

"Don't mention it," Mayweather said. "Glad to help." He showed Reed to
the door. "I told you I'm here for you anytime, right?"

The lieutenant nodded. "You did."

"I meant it." With a smile, Mayweather opened the door. "You should
try and catch an hour or two of sleep," he advised. "You don't want
the captain on your case."

"I'll try," Reed replied with a sigh.

As he walked along the corridoor, Reed thought about Mayweather's
comments. Perhaps he was being unfair to Tucker by not giving him a
chance to prove himself. He stifled a sigh as he rounded a corner.
With his eyes downcast, he didn't realize someone was approaching from
the opposite direction until they had almost collided.

"Sorry." Reed looked up to find himself face to face with Captain
Archer. He took a backwards step. "Captain. Good morning," he said.

"Malcolm." Archer glanced down at Porthos. "Sit." The captain returned
his gaze to Reed's face. "You're up early."

"Actually, I was just heading back to bed," Malcolm said.

Archer nodded. "I won't keep you, then." He took a step past the
lieutenant and clicked his fingers to his dog.

"Goodnight, Sir." Malcolm walked a few paces.

"Malcolm?"

He turned and looked back at Archer. "Sir?"

"I was wondering," Archer moved to stand in front of him. "If you'd
like to join me for lunch today?" He offered an affable grin.
"Our...last meal together was cut short. I haven't had a chance since
then to reschedule."

Reed recalled the aborted breakfast a couple of months previously,
which had been disrupted by the discovery of a Menshara class planet,
and then the encounter with the alien mines. He nodded and met the
captain's eyes. "All right, Sir."

"Good. I'll expect you in my mess at twelve hundred. Good night."

"Good night, Captain."

---

Malcolm Reed was right on time for lunch with the captain. Correct and
pristine in a fresh uniform, his dark hair neatly combed and his boots
polished. He made his way through the main mess hall without a glance
to left or right. He had to admit, he was looking forward to this meal
more than he had the last time the captain had invited him to his
table. He paused outside the door to the captain's mess and smoothed
his uniform before he pressed the chime.

"Come in," Archer's voice called from inside.

Reed stepped into the room and nodded to the captain who was already
seated at the table. He moved to a chair and pulled it out, seating
himself and looking into the captain's eyes. "Good afternoon,
Captain."

"Malcolm." Archer nodded and looked him over. "I see you didn't bring
any work with you this time."

Malcolm smirked. "I didn't think this was a work conference, Sir."

The captain chuckled. "No. It's not."

"Good." Malcolm picked up a napkin and unfolded it.

Archer studied him for a moment, his green eyes gleaming with
amusement. He glanced up when the galley door slid open to admit a
steward.

"I ordered pot roast," he said, watching the younger man for his
reaction.

The change in expression was so slight it would have been easy to
miss, but Archer caught it. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I couldn't
resist. We're having fish ... I hope that's all right."

With a small shake of his head, Reed met the captain's eyes. "Anything
*other* than pot roast is fine with me, sir." he said. He wasn't
surprised that his fit of pique about the menu on the catwalk had
gotten back to the captain's ears. He could only claim his almost
constant nausea during the worst of the spatial disturbance as his
reason for being out of sorts. He inhaled appreciatively as the
steward set a platter in front of him. The aroma of broiled fish with
lemon and butter was appetizing. He picked up his knife and fork.

Archer watched him for a moment before he began to eat his own meal.

They ate in silence for a while, each man absorbed in his own
thoughts. It was Archer who broke the silence.

"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem a lot more relaxed than you
did the last time we had a meal together."

Reed set down his fork with a laugh. "I admit I was a bit worried that
morning," he said. He looked into the captain's eyes. "I came here
convinced that I was to receive a dressing down."

"Dressing down?"

Reed nodded. "Hm... I assumed you'd found out that Trip and I were
involved with each other, and you were going to tell me it had to
stop."

"I see." Archer picked up a glass of water and sipped from it. "I
didn't know about that then. In fact, I didn't know about it until
..." He looked away and cut another piece of fish. "Sorry. You
probably don't want to talk about that."

"I don't mind." Reed took a mouthful of salad. "It's fact, no point
trying to pretend it didn't happen."

Archer nodded.

Silence stretched between them again, but neither of them was
uncomfortable with it, or inclined to break it. They finished the main
course in companionable silence, and Reed leaned back in his chair,
studying the captain for a moment. "I'm glad we got the chance to do
this again," he said after a moment.

"So am I." Archer looked up and their eyes met. "Malcolm have you
talked to..."

He broke off as the galley door slid open. A steward entered with two
small bowls of fruit salad and set them down. He cleared the plates
and left.

"Talked to Trip?" Reed finished the thought. "No. Not really. We had a
'discussion' of sorts a day or so before leaving the catwalk,
but...since then, no."

Archer frowned.

"If you're going to tell me I ought to...you're not the first. Travis
has said the same thing. I don't think I'm ready yet."

The captain nodded and looked into Malcolm's eyes. "I wasn't going
to," he said. "You'll do what you think you need to, when the time's
right."

Malcolm picked up a spoon and dipped it into the bowl of fruit. "I do
appreciate your concern, though," he said in an undertone. "It's just
that everyone has been so..." he stirred the fruit, watching the
nectar it floated in swirl around in the bowl. "So *bloody nice* about
it!"

Archer regarded him in silence, his green eyes dark with something
unreadable.

"I *wish* someone would get as angry about it as I feel. You know if
this had happened to a woman, she'd have the luxury of a good solid
bitch session with a group of her friends. Every one of them would
hate the louse who played her up ..."

"Sounds like the voice of experience speaking?" Archer broke in.

"Yeah...I've got a sister," Malcolm reminded him. "I've listened to
her with her friends sometimes...they completely assassinate the
character of whichever scumbag hurt the latest victim and then they
move on." He met the captain's eyes. "We don't have that option it
seems. Well, I don't at any rate." He looked away and took a
half-hearted mouthful of fruit salad.

"You're right," Archer said after a moment. He turned to the com panel
and pushed a button. A moment later the galley door opened and the
steward returned.

"Has Chef got any chocolate cake in the kitchen?" Archer asked.

"Yessir," the Steward replied.

"Bring us two slices...no-- on second thought, bring the whole cake."

"Aye, captain."

When the cake was delivered, accompanied by two clean desert plates
and a knife the captain cut two generous slices. Putting one in front
of the Brit, he grinned. "A bitch session isn't complete without
chocolate cake," he said. "I may not have any sisters, but I've had
enough female friends in my time to know that."

Reed stared at him in astonishment for a moment and then he laughed.
"You're not serious. Trip's your best friend."

"Sure..." Archer smiled, "But he's also 'the scumbag who hurt the
latest victim'." He gestured at the cake and picked up his spoon.

"So...bitch."

Malcolm shook his head slowly, but he picked up his spoon. "Where to
begin," he mused as he took a large spoonful of the rich mud cake.

---

Trip Tucker made his way to the mess hall more by force of habit than
any real appetite. It was lunch time. His roster said he had a meal
break at that hour, but he didn't feel the need to eat. He walked into
the mess and found a table, sitting down without even getting a cup of
coffee. He would spend an hour here, he supposed, staring at his
crewmates and watching them eat and breathe and go on about their
lives as if nothing had happened. He drew a deep sigh and let his gaze
drop to the table top, studying a pattern in the shiny surface and
imagining that he saw all kinds of things in it. Like lying on his
back watching clouds in a blue sky.

He remembered a planet that Enterprise had visited where he and
Malcolm had done that. It had been as near to an earthlike atmosphere
as it could get. Blue skies, grassy meadows and clouds. Big white
fluffy ones that billowed across the sky like overfed sheep. He'd
convinced Malcolm to lie down with him in the long grass and watch the
clouds.

"I don't see any shapes," Malcolm had grumbled. "They're clouds. I've
never seen the point in this game."

"Oh c'mon! You gotta loosen up and not think about it." Tucker pointed
to a large cloud mass to his left. "Look there's a pony."

"It's not a pony. It's a mass of vapour droplets."

"You've got no imagination, Malcolm...it's a..." He hadn't got to
finish the thought as Malcolm rolled over in the grass and pinned him
to the ground.

"I can think of a *much* better game to play," he said in a breathy
undertone. "I'm the evil tyrant, and you're my prisoner." He laughed.
"I'll show you how much imagination I have, Mister Tucker."

It was the first time they'd made love. Tucker closed his eyes at the
memory.

Malcolm's hard, lithe body thrilled him in ways that he had not
experienced before.

Tucker shuddered involuntarily and licked his lips. He wanted that
back. He needed Malcolm.

The engineer looked up sharply when someone cleared their throat next
to his chair.

"Oh, hi Hoshi." His greeting was less than enthusiastic.

"Nice to see you too," Sato replied. "I asked if I could join you?"

"Sure." Tucker waved her to a seat.

"You're not eating."

"Not really hungry," Tucker said.

"I brought you some soup."

When he met her eyes, a hot retort on his lips, she shrugged and
offered him one of her little half smiles. Tucker relented and reached
for the bowl. Sato seemed to gain a kind of satisfaction from
mothering her crewmates and who was he to deny her.

"Thanks." He took the spoon she held out to him, and began to eat the
soup.

"Are you okay?"

He shrugged. "I guess." He took another spoonful of soup.

"You don't look okay," she told him matter-of-factly. "Why don't
you..."

"Hoshi! I dit'n ask you for advice!" He bit his lip and lowered his
eyes to the bowl in front of him. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Well, maybe you didn't," Hoshi said softly. "But I'm going to offer
it anyway." She made the little mouth that she often did when she was
thinking of what to say next. "You should stop pussyfooting around him
and just...talk!" A small sigh like the ones his mother gave when she
had trouble understanding her children. "It's getting old, watching
you two."

"Well, I'm sorry we're not entertainin' anymore!" Tucker stood up. "I
gotta get back to work."

Soft, masculine laughter came to them as the door to the captain's
mess opened. Tucker glanced towards the door.

Archer stood in the doorway with Malcolm Reed. They seemed oblivious
to their surroundings as Malcolm made some remark too soft to be
heard. Archer grinned and put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder for a
moment as he replied, his tone equally intimate.

Tucker opened his mouth to speak; thought better of it and turned to
look at Hoshi. He shook his head and cast his lover and his best
friend one more bleak look before he turned on his heel and stalked
out of the mess hall.

---

Malcolm Reed made his way to the armoury a week after his lunch with
the captain. As he walked into the familiar surroundings of his work
place, he cast a critical eye over the department. Instinctively, he
scanned for problems. Encountering nothing out of the ordinary he
nodded to himself and walked over to a comm panel.

"Reed to Engineering."

"Tucker." Came the swift response.

Malcolm drew a breath and let it out slowly before he spoke.
"Commander, I'd like a word with you when you've got a moment," he
said.

There was a pause. Malcolm waited for the response.

"I'll be right there," Tucker said.

Reed closed the comm and moved to a console; absently studying
readouts while he waited for Tucker to arrive.

Tucker walked into the armoury a few moments later. "Ya got a problem,
Lieutenant?" he asked.

Reed turned to him. "Not really," he said. "Everything is fine here,"
He looked into Tucker's eyes for a moment and then he said. "I wanted
to ... talk."

"If this is a personal call, I think it could probably wait. We're a
little pushed for time in engineerin'. Besides, the cap'n..."

"The captain suggested that I should talk with you, Trip." Reed waved
a hand in a gesture for the engineer to follow him. He led the way to
an alcove away from the main area of the armoury.

"Did he?" Tucker followed, but he folded his arms across his chest in
a defensive posture. "Okay, what d'ya wanna talk about?"

"Us."

Tucker snorted. "Us? Is there still an *us*, Malcolm?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Reed studied the commander as he
waited for his reply.

"Malcolm, you haven't said more than two words to me since the day we
left the catwalk. You didn't come by to see if I was okay after bein'
stranded on that moon...you didn't even call me; you didn't bother to
answer my calls...You tell me what it means!"

"I needed time to think...I..."

"No that's not what you were doin' Malcolm! You were busy wipin' me
right outta yer life!" Tucker stepped forward, face to face with the
lieutenant. "You were lettin' me wait to hear from ya, and wonder what
was goin' on an' you were gettin' *real* cosy with the cap'n!"

"That's a bloody lie!"

"Is it? Then you explain t'me why I saw you comin outta his mess a
week ago, whisperin' and makin' eyes an'..."

"What?" Reed's face flushed and his mouth dropped open.

"Yeah, Malcolm! After all the shit you put me through about Kaitaama,
you're screwin around with my best friend!"

"You're insane! That's not what it was at all! We had *lunch,* Trip!
ONCE!"

"Sure ya did!"

"It's the truth...I can't *believe* you could think such a thing!"

"Why wouldn't I think it? You've been lookin' for a way to get back at
me, and Jon just happened to be handy."

"Oh this is ridiculous!" Reed turned away. He rubbed his forehead with
one hand, suddenly feeling tired.

"Oh yeah, this is ridiculous, huh? It's okay for you to drag me
through hell for makin' a mistake, but when the boot's on the other
foot, it's ridiculous!" Tucker paused, breathing hard. "Well fuck you,
Malcolm! I don't need this anyway!" He turned on his heel and strode
towards the door.

"Trip!" Reed turned to him. "Stop."

"Go t'hell!"

Malcolm muttered a curse and strode across the room to block Tucker's
path. "Don't walk out that door," he said.

"And why shouldn't I? What reason can you gimme to stay?"

"This." Reed stepped closer and reached up to put a hand on Tucker's
shoulder. Pulling him down, he kissed him, hard. For a moment, the
engineer tensed and seemed about to draw away, but Reed held him, his
arms went around his lover's waist and his mouth became more
demanding. His tongue flickered across Tucker's lips until with a
shuddering breath, Tucker opened to him.

Their tongues met and Reed moaned into his lover's mouth, pulling him
closer wanting to envelop him; to be enveloped. He shivered when
Tucker took him into his arms and the kiss intensified, ripples of
passion flowing between them.

After several moments they parted and Tucker looked into his eyes.

Tucker's eyes were dark with passion, the pupils widely dilated.
"Okay," he gulped. "That's a reason."

Reed smiled. "I could give you at least two more reasons," he purred.
"But perhaps *those* can wait until later."

"Is that a promise?" Tucker searched his face for the answer.

"Your quarters. 1900 hours."

"All right..." Tucker bit his lip and stepped back. Suddenly aware of
their surroundings, he glanced around and blushed.

"It's all right," Reed said. "No one's here except us. Alpha shift is
due to start though."

Tucker nodded and smoothed his uniform. "I should be headin back to
engineerin'," he said. "Unless there's anything else you need," he
added, slipping into a tone of voice that was all duty as a crewman
came through the door.

"Thank you Commander," Reed replied. "I think we can handle it from
here."

He watched as Tucker left the armoury. With a shake of his head,
Malcolm turned to a console. They still had a lot to work out, he
thought. But the first steps had been taken. He glanced up and smiled
to himself as he remembered Archer's parting words to him at the door
to the captain's mess.

"If all else fails, gag him with your tongue...I think you'll find
that effective."

I must tell Trip that, one day. Malcolm thought as he returned the
greeting of another member of his staff.

---

The chrono beside Tucker's bed read 19:15 when he glanced at it for
the um-teenth time that evening. Malcolm was late. Tucker shook his
head. Malcom was *never* late for anything. Maybe something was wrong.
He got up from his desk and paced the floor a couple of times. Maybe
he should go looking for Reed.

No, he told himself. If there was something wrong, he would have
heard, wouldn't he? If he went looking for Malcolm it would look as
though he was desperate. Okay sure he'd acted like a louse and he'd
hurt Malcolm, but he'd apologized and he didn't think he needed to
spend the rest of his life licking Reed's boots. Another glance at the
chrono. Another two minutes had passed.

Tucker sighed and sank down on his chair.

Maybe Malcolm wasn't coming. He leaned foward, resting his elbows on
his thighs and stared at the floor. Maybe Malcolm had decided it was a
mistake. That whole thing in the armoury that morning had just been an
illusion; they were no closer to working this out than they had been
before. Hell, maybe it wasn't even real. Maybe he imagined the whole
thing. "But it sure felt real."

When the door chime sounded Tucker was hard pressed not to leap to his
feet and run to open the door. He licked his lips, leaned back in his
chair and took a deep breath. Smoothing one hand through his short
blonde hair, he called softly. "C'min!"

He was almost afraid to look Afraid that it would be T'Pol, or maybe
the captain. He truly expected that it would be anyone *but* Malcolm
Reed.

"Hello," The voice was unmistakable.

Tucker raised his head and smiled. "Hi."

"Sorry I'm late. Had some niggles with the sensors just before the end
of my shift. I...I suppose I should have commed."

"Naw," Tucker got to his feet, unsure for a moment, what to do with
his hands. He folded his arms across his chest, then let them fall to
his sides and shuffled his feet. "I'm...glad you came," he murmured.
"Uh..."

"May I sit down?"

"Um...sure!" Tucker moved a pile of datapads off the small sofa. "Go
ahead." He waved Malcolm to a seat. "Can I get you a coffee
or...somethin'?" Shit what was wrong with him, he felt like a kid on
his first date. No. He felt like he was at school and had been sent to
the principal's office. He trembled like a newborn kitten, and his
mouth had gone suddenly dry.

"I'd prefer tea if you've got it." There was a hint of laughter in
Reed's voice.

He's enjoyin' this, Tucker told himself as he nodded. "I think I've
got some around here..."

"Trip," Reed said softly. "Can we just leave the drinks for now?" he
met the engineer's eyes as Tucker turned to look at him. "I'd really
much rather just talk if you don't mind."

Letting out his breath, Tucker nodded and moved to sit on the sofa.
Not too close, he reminded himself. He'd better not push things just
yet. Malcolm was talking and that was a good start, but he didn't want
to do anything that would fuck it up.

Tucker glanced at Malcolm, and then looked away. "I was startin' to
think you wouldn't come," he said. "I wouldn't blame ya if ya didn't."

Reed didn't reply immediately, and Tucker ventured another swift
glance at his lover. Malcolm was staring at him, his expression
difficult to read. His eyes seemed huge in the dim light and Tucker
couldn't help thinking how beautiful they were. Malcolm had the nicest
eyes of anyone Tucker had ever met. Expressive eyes, too, when they
were in private. He ventured a small grin. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm tired, Trip," Reed replied. "This has been a very trying time for
me. I...I did think about not coming tonight. I suppose the problems
with the sensors were not terribly urgent, I could have fixed it in
the morning, or left it to my staff..." He closed his eyes, rubbed his
forehead with one hand. "God," he whispered.

Tucker looked away, letting his eyes wander around the familiar
surrounds of his cabin. "Did you come here t'tell me it's over with
us, Mal?"

"No...I don't know...I," Reed fell silent for several moments.

"Cause I wouldn't blame ya for *that* either." Tucker bowed his head,
resigned. He waited for the words that would end their relationship.

"Is that what you want, Charles?"

"No." He didn't want to end it with Malcolm. That was the last thing
he wanted. "But if it's what you want, there's nothin' I can do to
change that." He sighed into the silence that grew between them. "I
said I was sorry, Malcolm, but I understand if that's not enough." But
he didn't understand, not really. He hadn't understood anything much
for the last few weeks. He couldn't understand why this whole thing
had become such a big deal. After all, neither of them had ever
mentioned the concept of exclusivity in their relationship. They'd
never even discussed it. He looked up and found those searching eyes,
still on him. It was unnerving. Tucker bit his lip. "I don't get it
though, Malcolm," he admitted. "We were never exclusive. We had
no...understandin' about that, did we?"

"By the same token, we never said we were not." Malcolm's brows drew
together and his words became clipped; a sure sign that he was getting
set for a fight.

"Malcolm..."

"What do you want, Mister Tucker? Do I have to draw up some kind of a
contract for you? Spell it all out in writing: You belong to me
between the hours of 10PM to 6AM and any other time you can just go
and fuck whoever you like? What shall we say? Oral sex and hand jobs
are okay but don't kiss anyone other than myself on the lips...would
that be plain enough for you, Trip? Would that help you to know where
you stand in our relationship? Would you like to add an 'out clause'?
Either party may terminate this agreement in writing provided at least
fourteen days notice is given?"

"Malcolm..."

"What ever happened to the concept that having one lover at a time is
enough?" Reed got to his feet. "Your arrogance astounds me, Charles
Tucker!"

"Arrogance?" Tucker leaped to his feet. "Well, pardon me, but I don't
think I got th'monop'ly on that one! You want me to lick your boots
for the rest of my life and I won't! I said I was sorry! Why isn't
that enough?"

"Because the way you say it...it's like...'I'm sorry, Malcolm, you can
come back to me now!" Reed shook his head. "You assume that you can
flash a smile and charm your way back into my good graces. You
just...brush things off as if they mean nothing and..."

"Whoa! whoa!" Tucker held up a hand. "I didn't try to brush this off,
Malcolm. I'm sorry if that's how it felt...but that wasn't my
intention."

"It's never your intention, is it? You just blunder your way through
life, accidentally wreaking havoc. One of these times, Trip, you're
going to fuck up so royally that all the good intentions in the world
won't change it!"

Tucker sighed and turned away from Malcolm. "Okay, I think you've made
your point," he said. "Maybe you should go."

"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love to just send me away and
sit here feeling sorry for yourself. No dice, Mister Tucker. I came
here to talk and I'm not leaving until I've said everything I came to
say, so you'd better just get used to the idea!"

"All right." Tucker turned to look at Reed. "If that's what you want."

Suddenly the anger and tension in the room seemed to diffuse. Reed
sank down on the sofa with a sigh. "Sit down, Trip," he said. "I don't
want this to turn into another yelling match. I'm too tired to fight
anymore."

With a small nod, Tucker joined Reed on the sofa. "Me too," he
murmured. "Let's try this again." He smiled slightly. "What's on your
mind?"

"I think we do need to decide exactly what kind of relationship, if
any, we have," Reed said quietly. "I suppose we should have spoken
about this before."

Tucker nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "We do need to set some things
straight between us. I'm willin' t'do anythin that'll help you to feel
secure in us again, Malcolm."

Reed leaned back against the sofa, resting his head on the back of it
and looked at Tucker from under lowered lids. "Do you want to be
exclusive?"

"Tucker frowned and looked into Malcolm's eyes, trying to read the
expression in them. He was suddenly afraid of what would happen if he
answered that question. He looked away, studying the floor.

Reed remained silent, waiting and Tucker bit his lip. After a long
moment, he nodded. "I think I do," he said. He heard Reed let out a
long breath and their eyes met. Malcolm sat up and moved closer to him
on the sofa. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not sure've anythin' anymore, Malcolm." Tucker looked into the
lieutenants eyes. "But I know I don't want to lose you."

Reed smiled and reached to smooth a strand of blond hair off Tucker's
forehead. "I don't want to push you into anything," he said.

"You're not. I want this."

"All right."

Silence fell again.

After a moment, Tucker stirred. "Do you want that tea now?"

"That would be nice," Malcolm said with a nod.

"Okay." Tucker got to his feet and moved to the small cabinet next to
the cooler. "I know I still have some around here somewhere."

---

It was as if the universe had conspired against him, Tucker thought as
he made his way along the coridoor towards the gym. Not even two days
since he had agreed to be exclusive with Malcolm, and Feezal Phlox
shows up.

She was an attractive woman. Too attractive, Tucker thought with a
sigh, but there were too many reasons why he coudn't even let his mind
go there. First and foremost there was his relationship with Malcolm.
That had to be the first consideration in anything. Malcolm had come
so close to dumping him; he knew that, and he knew he wasn't exactly
off the hook with his lover yet either. Even though they'd talked long
into the night two days ago, the physical side of their relationship
hadn't been re-established. Tucker had the sense that he was on
probation.

Then there was Phlox. Feezal was a married woman, Tucker had grown up
with the idea that fooling with a married woman was about the lowest
act anyone could commit. He sighed and shook his head as he walked
into the gym. Malcolm was already there, sweating and looking
incredibly sexy on one of the stationary bikes. Their eyes met via the
large mirror on the wall.

"She's at it again," Tucker complained as he headed for the bike next
to the one Malcolm was using. He'd told Malcolm of Feezal's 'advances'
at breakfast that morning, which they had taken together in the
privacy of Reed's quarters. At that point, Malcolm had been
sympathetic and supportive. Now, he laughed.

"I don't know about you, but I find her quite attractive."

Tucker shook his head, concentrating on pedaling. Malcolm seemed to
take some kind of perverse delight in playing up the 'red blooded
male' stereotype sometimes. Tucker wished he wouldn't do it when they
were alone. But they were in a public place so he could almost predict
that Malcolm would keep the facade going. Even if it was only for the
benefit of security cameras.

"C'mon Malcolm!" Tucker allowed a small chuckle at the wicked gleam in
his lover's eyes. "This is serious! What if Phlox finds out?"

They pedalled in silence for a moment, and then Reed looked at him.
"You haven't done anything to make her think that you'd be..."

"Of course not!" Tucker snapped.

It almost became a flash point. Something cold glimmered in Reed's
eyes for an instant and Tucker ground his teeth. He wasn't going to
get into another fight with Reed about side issues. He looked away.
"Maybe I should tell the doc," he said.

"Tell him what? That his wife's trying to seduce you?" Malcolm
laughed. "Not a good idea."

"I've gotta spend the next two days with her, workin' on the
microscope," Tucker said. He let go the handlebars and folded his arms
across his chest. Malcolm was really not being much help here. "I
really think I should speak to Phlox." He voiced his thoughts aloud
and Malcolm shook his head.

"It might be a lot easier to avoid her advances than to get Phlox
angry. I once saw him lose his temper when one of his creatures bit
him." Reed laughed. "Not a pretty sight!"

"It might be a whole lot easier to *ignore* her advances if you'd..."

Tucker bit off the end of the sentence, but it was too late. Malcolm's
head snapped around and their eyes met.

Reed frowned. "If I'd what?"

"Well ya gotta admit, it's been a while," Tucker said.

Reed snorted and looked away, tacitly dropping the subject.

"Don't do that, Malcolm." Tucker stopped pedalling and stared at his
lover. "Don't just turn away and act like I never said anythin'."

Reed cast him a fleeting glance. "It's not the kind of thing we can
really discuss here." He glanced towards the door. "What if someone
should come in?"

I don't care if anyone comes in!" Tucker got off the bike and stood
next to Malcolm. "I need you, Malcolm," he said in an undertone. "I've
done everythin' I can to avoid her, I *tried* not bein` alone with
her...she didn't seem t'notice. Dammit Malcolm, she was playin footsie
with me ... in the MESS! I'm only human."

Reed stopped pedalling and looked into his eyes. "Are you saying you
... that you'd..."

"NO!" Tucker leaned in close to Malcolm's face. "That's not what I'm
sayin'! What I'm sayin' is I *need* you! I can't go on like
this...I..."

"You need me ... so you can avoid sleeping with Feezal?"

Tucker groaned and clapped a hand to his forehead as he turned away.
"You know what, just forget it," He said. "I'm gonna talk to Phlox."
He walked out of the gym without another glance at his lover.

---

Commander Charles Tucker lay on his bunk in the seculsion of his
quarters and stared hard at the stars outside the view port. He'd been
watching them for more than an hour, ignoring his stomach's loud
demands for food. He sighed deeply and blinked. The constant motion of
the stars as Enterprise orbited the planet was hypnotic and he felt a
little sleepy, but he didn't want to sleep. What he wanted, was to be
free to move about the ship without having to worry about being
pounced on by Feezal Phlox. What he wanted, was to lie in the arms of
his lover tonight and forget the rest of the ship, the rest of the
damn galaxy for that matter. What he wanted, was to just erase the
past few weeks and go back to life as it was *before* he met Kaitaama.

Trip rolled onto his back and flung one arm across his burning eyes.
"Dammit," he muttered to the empty room.

The door chime sounding almost sent him leaping for cover. He winced
and glanced towards the door. Tucker bit his lip. If he called out to
see who was there, he'd give away the fact he was inside. If it was
Feezal... He sighed and sat up, staring at the door as though it might
fly off it's tracks and bite him. If it was Malcolm, his lover would
think that Trip was ignoring him or something. "Shit," he whispered.
He got up and walked over to the door and hit the com. "Who's there?"
He wished his voice didn't sound so shaky, like he was expecting it to
be something nasty.

"Hoshi," came the response. "Can I come in?"

Tucker opened the door. "I thought you went planetside," he said. He
took in the sight of the ensign, dressed in mufti clothing. She
carried a tray with a covered platter on it. His stomach voiced its
approval of that idea so loudly that he thought she must have heard.

"That was hours ago," Hoshi replied. "She held the tray out to him."

"Thanks," he took the tray and waved her inside. "So, what brings you
here?"

"Travis told me you didn't go to see the movie." Hoshi turned to look
at him as she settled in a chair. "I thought 'Black Cat' was one of
your favourites?"

"It is." Tucker sat down and lifted the cover off the plate. His mouth
watered at the sight, and smell of steak with mashed potatoes. "This
is great!" He picked up a knife and fork and began to eat with relish.

"So...why'd you miss it?"

He stopped in mid-chew and looked at her. Swallowing the mouthful of
food, he sighed. "Feezal."

"Oh?" Hoshi looked askance. "What about Feezal?"

"She's been comin' on to me. I thought that woulda been obvious in the
mess hall earlier?"

"Oh!" Realization dawned and Hoshi chuckled. "So that's what that was
about!"

"It's not funny, Hoshi!" Tucker was getting heartily tired of the
attitude of everyone else towards his discomfort with Feezal Phlox.
"She's married and I'm..." He paused. "I'm in enough shit as it is,
without this."

Hoshi sobered at his tone and met his eyes levelly. "I'm sorry," her
tone was genuine. "D'you wanna talk?"

He looked at her. Biting his lip he pondered whether he should tell
her the whole sorry story. Hoshi knew that he and Malcolm were having
problems, but up til now, he hadn't really told her everything, only
that their relationship had hit a rough spot, and they were having
trouble working it out. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Hoshi, if I tell you what's goin' on with Malcolm and I, you gotta
swear you won't let it go any further."

"Of course." Her dark eyes widened at the seriousness of his tone. "I
swear."

Tucker nodded and laid down his knife and fork. He turned his chair to
face her. "Remember a few weeks ago, when we met those guys who wanted
me to fix that stasis pod? The one with the princess..."

"Kaitaama," Hoshi nodded. "I remember that."

Tucker ducked his head and sighed. "I wish I hadn't ever gone over
there to fix that pod." He looked up and met her eyes and began the
whole story from the beginning.

Hoshi listened in silence for the most part. Once in a while she
offered a comment, or asked questions to clarify, but Tucker found
himself thinking that she was a really good listener, and he began to
understand why Travis spent so much time with the linguist.

"And then I completely screwed up with Malcolm *again* today. I just
can't seem to say or do anythin' right lately with him." He shook his
head. "I don't know what to do."

"How did you screw up today?" Hoshi was frowning at him.

Tucker felt about two inches tall as he recounted the scene in the
gym.

"Are you serious?" Hoshi shook her head. "I can't believe you said
something like that!"

"I said it."

"And you're always the one going on about what a perfect gentleman you
are? You're no gentleman, Sir. You've acted like a cad!"

"Ow!" Tucker looked into her eyes for a moment, and then he relented
with a sigh. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Look, you care about Malcolm, don't you?"

"Of course I do! I *love* Malcolm more than ... more than anyone or
anythin' in my life before!"

"Then prove it to him!"

"Pardon me. I thought that was what I was *tryin'* to do?"

With a laugh, Hoshi shook her head. "You might think that's what
you're doing, but, trust me. You're not getting it."

"Okay, so what would you suggest?" Tucker gave her his full attention.

"Well, Malcolm has lost his trust of you. You told me he said that.
That's the most important thing you have to work on, getting that
trust back, and you know it's not going to be easy." She smiled.
"Telling him that another woman is making advances on you, and then
asking him for sex in the same sentence?" Hoshi winced. "Not a smart
move, Commander."

"You can call me Trip," Tucker said. "The rank thing is kinda...weird
under the circumstances."

"Okay," she nodded. "Tell Malcolm you want him for himself."

"That's easy for you to say. I want to tell him that. I *meant* to
tell him that -- and then those eyes are on me, and I get tongue tied
and nervous and I mess it up." He sighed and scrubbed at his hair with
both hands. "But I gotta do somethin' I'm goin' nuts worryin' that
he's gonna just give up on me."

"So tell him in a way that his eyes aren't on you." Hoshi rolled her
eyes at him. "Don't guys *ever* write notes? Letters, send cards?"

Tucker's head snapped up. "Malcolm does! When I was still dancin'
around the issue of whether to ask him out or not..." he smiled and
his eyes took on a soft gleam. "I started gettin' these anonymous
messages. They'd show up on my console in engineerin, or on my message
bank." Tucker laughed. "Yeah, guys send notes."

"For an engineer, and supposedly Starfleet's best? You're incredibly
thick sometimes, Comm...er, Trip." Hoshi grinned and stood up. "It's
getting late. I have an early shift tomorrow."

Getting to his feet, Tucker showed her to the door. "Thanks," he said
softly. "For dinner, and for listenin to me."

"Don't mention it." Hoshi hesitated a moment, and then she gave him a
hug. "Someone had to give you a clue."

Tucker held her for a moment, and then stepped back. "I appreciate
it." He did. More than he could find words to express. "G'night," he
said as he pressed the control to open the door and let her out.

"See you tomorrow," Hoshi replied. She stepped into the corridoor and
was obscured as the door slid shut behind her.

---

Malcolm Reed lay on his back in his quarters staring up at the ceiling
of his cabin in quiet despair. His eyes were dark with unspoken pain,
and the dried tracks of tears across his temples to his pillow told
the story of an evening of quiet misery. He drew a sobbing breath and
sat up, rubbing away the remains of his sorrow.

He had begun to think, since their discussion two nights ago, that he
and Trip could possibly find a way to work things out. He sighed. And
then Feezal Phlox came along to remind him of just how much of a fool
he could be when he let his heart rule his head. Tucker hadn't
changed. He didn't even seem to realize how much his words in the gym
that morning had hurt. Malcolm closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

He stood up and reached for the comm button. "Reed to Captain Archer,"
he said.

"Archer here, Something I can do for you, Malcolm?" No mention of the
lateness of his call, no sound of censure in the captain's tone. Reed
sighed. "D'you think I could come and see you, Sir? I...have something
I'd like to discuss with you."

There was a brief pause, and Reed almost had second thoughts. He was
about to apologize and tell the captain not to worry about it, when
Archer replied.

"What if I come to you? I was walking Porthos. I'm not far away."

"Thank you, captain. That would be fine."

---

Captain Jonathan Archer walked along the coridoor, listening to the
muted, rapid fire click of Porthos' claws on the deck plating at his
heel. He sighed. Here he was, living his father's dream. Captain of
the first warp five starship to venture into deep space, exploring new
worlds and civilizations, seeking out new experiences; He was learning
about more new cultures in a week, than most Earth dwelling humans
could hope to find out about in a lifetime. It was not only his
father's dream; it was and always had been, his own. He should feel
fulfilled, satisfied. He didn't. He felt...empty, alone. Jonathan
Archer was lonely.

He glanced down at the beagle pup and clicked his tongue. Porthos
looked up at him and wagged his tail before dropping his nose to the
deck plating again, tracking some unknown scent as they strolled.
Jonathan smiled and nodded. Porthos had a simple life. Food, sleep and
excercise, the companionship of his master, and that was enough. The
enormity of their mission was lost on the dog. He seemed happy.

Jon shook his head and squared his shoulders, mentally berating
himself for being dissatisfied. He had to learn to take a more simple
approach to things. Look at things from a positive stand point. He
nodded a silent acknowledgement of his own orders to himelf and walked
on with a firmer tread.

"Reed to Captain Archer," the disembodied voice of the armoury officer
came over a nearby comm and Archer moved to press the button.

"Archer here." All efficiency. "Something I can do for you Malcolm?"

Malcolm's voice came back "I was wondering if I could come to see you,
Sir? I have...something I need to discuss."

Something in Reed's tone of voice told Archer that this wasn't the run
of the mill weapons upgrades or rostering question. There was a
vulnerability, a softer edge, a roughened burr. Jonathan mentally
asked himself exactly when he had begun to analyse Reed's moods by his
manner of speech or his posture. He couldn't remember; he only knew
that he'd learned to see beneath the surface of the seemingly buttoned
down lieutenant, and know that there was far more there than met the
eye. He glanced along the corridor, calculating how long it would take
him to get back to his cabin. He estimated that Malcolm would get
there before he would, and, unwilling suddenly to make Reed have to
wait, he made a decision.

"What if I come to you? I was walking Porthos. I'm not far away."

"That would be fine, Captain."

Archer closed the comm and made his way to Reed's Cabin.

When the lieutenant opened his door, the captain decided he'd made the
right decision. Malcolm looked...done in. His face was lined with
tiredness and the mussed hair and red rimmed eyes told their own
story. Archer frowned.

"Malcolm?"

Reed sighed and seemed unsure for a moment, what to do. He glanced
over his shoulder into the cabin and then met the captain's eyes with
a small shake of his head. He shifted his weight from one foot to the
other. "I...uh... Thank you for coming, Sir."

"It's fine," Archer smiled and then he glanced down at his dog.
"Maybe...you'd like to join Porthos and I for the rest of our walk?"

The swiftness with which Reed accepted the proposal made Jonathan
think he was right in assuming that Malcolm was uncomfortable with
asking him in. He stepped aside and made a gesture along the corridor.
"We'd be happy to have the company."

Reed fell in step alongside him, and they walked in silence for a few
minutes. Archer didn't press for details. He knew Malcolm well enough
to know the man would speak when he was ready. One of the things he
had always loved about Reed was the way that the man seemed to weigh
every word before he spoke.

Archer pulled his thoughts up with a hitch. Loved? had he ever used
that word in connection with Reed before? He didn't think he had. He
didn't think it was a bad thing though. Yeah, he thought. I love the
way Malcolm weighs his words before he speaks. A small grin touched
his lips at that, and he had to turn his attention to Porthos to hide
it.

"Good boy," he murmured absently to the dog.

Reed looked at him and their eyes met for an instant before Malcolm
glanced away. "Sir, do you think we could go somewhere a little more
private?"

"I think the observation deck is usually free at this time of night."

A nod from Reed.

They made their way to the small lounge and sat on one of the sofas
provided for crew members who wanted to 'look at the stars.' Archer
patted the seat, inviting Porthos up.

The dog settled himself between them and put his head and forepaws on
Malcolm's lap. It was odd, Jon mused, how animals seemed to
instinctively know when someone needed comforting. He smiled, watching
as the little dog licked Reed's hand.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

Reed nodded. "Yes." He absently played with Porthos' soft ears as he
spoke, not meeting the captain's eyes. "I suppose you already know
it's about Trip."

"I had a fair idea." Archer reached to scratch Porthos between the
shoulders, his fingers so close to Reed's but never touching. "What's
happened?"

The sigh that came from Reed was so low, and so heartfelt that Archer
almost flinched. He looked at Malcolm, studying the set of his
shoulders, the small frown between those pain darkened eyes and he
suddenly had the urge to find Tucker and kick his sorry ass. I warned
him I'd kill him if he hurt Malcolm again, he thought. He stayed where
he was, waiting for Reed to speak.

"I don't know why I bother with him, you know?" Reed's voice was low,
the words hardly more than a rough whisper. "Every time I think I have
finally worked him out, he reveals some deeper level of..." He trailed
off, blinking rapidly and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb
and forefinger.

"Captain, I don't know how I am going to say this...I need time away.
I don't know how long, I need to put some distance between Trip and I
... I need to be able to think, and I can't do that here."

"Malcolm..." Archer leaned forward.

"I'm not resigning, Sir." Reed met his eyes. "I just think if I
could...I can't watch him, I can't..." Reed bowed his head and despite
the enormous struggle for control that was evident in his tense
posture and ragged breathing, a sob, harsh and painful tore from his
tightly pursed lips.

Archer could restrain himself no longer. He let the hand that had been
resting on Porthos' back move a fraction of an inch until his fingers
lightly grazed the back of Reed's hand.

"God!" Reed didn't pull away.

Archer closed his fingers around Malcolm's hand and drew him closer,
gently nudging Porthos out of the way. "I'm so sorry, Malcolm."
Jonathan tightened his grip on Reed's hand. He stared at the younger
man, his heart aching for the hurt that must have brought the usually
tightly controlled emotions boiling to the surface. He reached out to
touch Reed's cheek and caught his breath on a sharp gasp when Malcolm
leaned into the touch, and then moved to lean his head on Archer’s arm
against the back of the sofa. It was more than he would have dared to
hope for. Jon closed his eyes, pulled Malcolm into a hug, and without
thinking, brushed his lips across the younger man's forehead.

Neither of them heard the doors to the observation lounge slide open
and just as quickly close again.

Malcolm Reed tensed at the touch of warm lips on his forehead.
Suddenly collecting himself with a start, he pushed away from the
captain. "Sir, I..."

"Malcolm," Archer licked his lips and shook his head "I'm s..."

"Don't say that..." Malcolm stood up. "I think I should leave." He
cast the captain a glance. His eyes were clouded with confusion.
"I...Good night, Captain."

"Malcolm, please don't leave...like this. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have
done that. I..." Archer got to his feet. "I apologize."

Reed shook his head. "It's all right, I'll be fine uhm...if you
wouldn't mind considering my request..." he took a step towards the
door and cast the captain another bemused glance before he turned away
and quickly left the lounge.

---

Tucker's world had crashed.

As easily as opening a door and stepping into a room. The world had
tilted. If felt almost as though the ship tilted as his mind lurched
away from a sight that burned itself into the very flesh of his eyes.
Malcolm in the arms of Jonathan Archer. Jon's lips pressed to
Malcolm's forehead. Malcolm not resisting, leaning into the other man.

His lover, and his best friend.

He stood frozen for a moment, and then, somehow he found the ability
to move, spun on a heel and fled, leaving them alone in their shared
moment. Tucker breathed raggedly. He was trembling from head to foot.
He kept control only by exerting a stubborn will that had seen him
through many a night in engineering, wrestling with systems that
wouldn't work right. The commander made his way to his cabin, dashed
inside and locked the door as though a devil pursued him

Closing his eyes he drew a deep breath and let it out with a long
groan of pain. As he moved to the bed, his eyes fell on a framed
photograph of himself with Malcolm, on shore leave on some planet he
couldn't even remember the name of.

Malcolm, smiling, leaning against Trip's back, his hands loosely
clasped across Tucker's chest. Tucker's eyes laughing into the camera
lens.

He picked the photograph up and slammed it against the wall repeatedly
until the frame fragmented and crumbled away. Not satisfied, he tore
the picture into remnants and flung them to the floor as well before
he sank down on his bed.

"No, Malcolm...No...No!"

Tucker buried his face in his hands and let the sobs overtake him at
last.

---

The End