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

---

This fits in with the canon for my Cold Comfort Series. Not a sequel
exactly, but definitely a follow-on

Beta: None really, but Haggy has seen it. All mistakes must be taken
out and shot before return to the author for the bounty.

Spoilers: Fairly decent one for "The Xindi"

Warnings: possible Kleenex alert (well it made ME cry)

Disclaimer: Well of course they don't *belong* to me, but they keep
following me home. No money changes hands, no infringements are
intended. Original plot ideas and characters not appearing in the
series are mine and paramount can't have them, so there!

Archive permissions: EntSTcommunity/warp 5 Tim Rueben, and the
Author's personal website. Anyone else, ask first.

---
Trip
---

I'm confused. There's no other way to put it. I don't know what just
happened back there, but I know it felt good, I know I liked it. I
know I feel...relaxed physically, but it's confusing.

I'm walking along the corridor with my thoughts all over the place,
just trying to work out, what the hell went on in there.

Go back to your quarters and sleep, she said. I don't know if I wanna
do that. Sure I'm tired, haven't had a real, decent night's sleep
in...However long it's been since we heard about that probe. I manage
maybe an hour or two each night, and then the dreams come.

Always the same storyline. I'm in Florida, I'm yellin' for Lizzie to
get out of there to find a way but she can't hear me. She never hears
and I stand there helpless and watch my baby sister die.

I shoulda been there. I woulda been able to warn her and she'd still
be alive. I told her once I'd always take care of her. I failed her.

The first few nights after it happened, I stayed with Malcolm. He
tried hard to help me. He tried to get me to open up; tell him how I
feel, but I can't do that. I can't feel, I can't examine my feelin's I
don't have that luxury. I just hafta hang on and find who did this and
...at least, that's what I thought I had to do.

And then we met that Xindi slave down there on that mining planet and
he was so human...why'd he have to be human? Why'd he have to have a
story, and need our help and be so desperate to get outta there? It
was easy to hate them when they had no faces.

And now I'm confused.

T'Pol touched me, and I liked it.

I find myself standing outside Malcolm's quarters and I have no idea
how I got here.

---
Malcolm
---

He hasn't come near me in weeks. I've spoken to him at meals, on duty,
but he hasn't come to me as a lover since...well, not since the night
he told me to go play with my new weapons and get ready to exact
revenge on the Xindi. That hurt. It hurt a lot and I avoided him
deliberately for a few days after.

Then, slowly we began to rebuild our...friendship. Yes, it's
friendship, it doesn't go beyond that. A friendly lunch, a friendly
dinner...friendly and pleasant workouts in the gym, but I want my
lover. I want the man who curled in my arms and slept with a smile on
his face the night I accepted his marriage proposal.

He's never mentioned that again. I don't know if he even remembers.

So I act his friend, and wait, and all the while my heart aches for
what I've lost.

He stayed here with me a few nights after the attack happened; I tried
so hard to be there for him, to give him opportunity to open up.

The third night, I got a letter from Madeline. She'd received my
message telling her of my engagement. Her letter must have been sent
before the probe attacked Earth, because she made no mention...she was
happy for us and she offered us both her heartfelt congratulations,
her hopes that we would come home for the wedding, or at least send
her a vid...

I'll never forget the look in his eyes after I read it to him, or his
words.

"Ya must be real happy that she's alive and able to write ya," he
said.

He left then. I never thought I could feel guilty for having a living,
happy sister.

He hasn't been back since.

He's not sleeping. It shows plainly. He looks tired and his eyes are
dull. He and the captain both look worn out and the only time either
of them has any light in their eyes is when there is a possibility
that we've found the Xindi.

Both of them were like men possessed when we were told of the
possibility that a Xindi was living on that mining planet.

The captain threw caution to the winds...as usual, but the predatory
light in Trip's eyes frightened me most.

When we pulled them out of there, reeking, dispirited, dragging a
fatally wounded man with them...the emptiness had returned to his
eyes.

I wanted to reach out to him then, take him in my arms and tell him
that everything would be all right, but there is a barrier between us
that I cannot breach.

He talked to me briefly, a few hours later in a hallway. Told me he
thought my men could have done the job just as well as the MACO's did.
I was truthful and told him I wasn't so sure about that. And then he
was gone. I got a brief chance to touch him as he walked away, but he
didn't even acknowledge the contact.

Lord how I miss him.

---
Trip
---

I stand there, staring at his door and wondering what I should do.

I want to press the door-chime and hear his voice call me into the
room. I want to fall into his arms and take the reassurance I know
he'll offer. I want to lose myself in him. I want to run away as fast
as I can and not face him.

Hell what right do I have to expect he'd even wanna see me? I've done
nothin' but shut him out and push him away for too long. Too much has
changed. Too many things that I can never put back.

I turn away from the door, take a half step. I look back over my
shoulder.

The last time I was here, he read me a letter from Madeline. I told
him he must be so happy that she can still write to him. What kind of
an asshole says somethin' like that?

I press my lips into a firm line and take another step away from his
door and the confusion comes crashin' down on me again. Where am I
gonna go? I don't want to be alone back in my quarters and I'm tired
enough to drop down and sleep right where I stand.

Maybe it's worth a try. There's no-where else, no *one* else I can go
really. Not even the cap'n can help this time, I know he's just as
wrung out as I am. I hesitate.

Turn back, lift my hand that feels like it weighs a ton and press the
button.

I need him now, and I hope like hell it's not too late. Just for
tonight, I tell myself; just til I can process all this and get my
head sorted out.

The door opens and he's standing there and his heart is suddenly in
his eyes. This means way more to him than it does to me right now and
I feel like a first class heel.

"Malcolm," I say, but nothing else will come out of my mouth. I
swallow hard. This was a bad idea; I should just get the hell outta
here. Then he holds out his hand and I take hold of it. It's like a
lifeline and I close my eyes.

I need him.

---
Malcolm
---

The door-chime startles me. It's late. Who would want to visit me at
this time of night? My heart begins to pound uncomfortably. Could it
be?

Scrambling off the bed I lunge for the door, I feel I have to get it
open as quickly as possible. The door opens and he's standing there
and his face is closed.

"Malcolm," he says, and then an expression of something close to
regret touches his eyes. I can't let him leave. I know he's thinking
of running, but I can't let him go. I hold out my hand and my heart
leaps almost painfully when he takes it and closes his eyes.

He needs me.

I don't know what any of this means, but he's here and that's all I
want it to be for now. I just want him here with me. I draw him inside
and close there door.

I'll take what he can give.

---
Trip
---

He has hardly spoken two words to me since I came here. He pulled me
inside and shut the door and we sat down on the sofa. He's kept hold
of my hand and I haven't tried to get loose.

I'm sitting here, leaning back against the sofa with my eyes shut and
I think I could just let myself sleep.

His thumb strokes the back of my hand and it feels nice, soothing. I
sigh quietly and squeeze his fingers.

Opening my eyes to look at him, I see the fear in his eyes. He's
afraid I'm gonna push him away again, and I can't promise that I
wouldn't. I can't promise anything anymore. I let a smile touch my
lips, but he doesn't look very reassured.

I find myself wishing there was some way I could chase the fear away
from his eyes, but there isn't and I'd be livin' a lie if I thought
otherwise. I lean a little closer to him, seeking the warmth of his
body, wanting to be in his arms; that's about all I can offer for now.

---
Malcolm
---

I haven't said much to him, and when I did, his replies were
monosyllabic. I want to ask him why he came. I want to know why now,
after all this, he's here, but I know the question is so fraught with
things left unspoken all these weeks, that to ask him may be all it
would need to chase him away.

So I sit here holding his hand and I wait.

He looks at me and tries to smile. It's a sad little smile that does
nothing to erase the emptiness from his eyes. I feel tears prick at my
eyelids; I swallow hard and try to look as though his little smile
means something. I fail, I read that failure in his eyes, and then he
leans closer to me and I pull him into my arms, close my eyes and hold
him. Just hold him.

"Somethin' happened," His voice is so quiet that I almost miss it. "I
needed to come."

He needed to come...to me. He needed to come to me. My aching heart
grabs for the words and clings to them. I nuzzle against his hair;
whisper, "I'm here."

And then it is like something inside him breaks and he is sobbing
against my shoulder as I hold him and stroke his back.

"I'm scared..." a ragged whisper. "I'm so scared, Malcolm."

"I know." I pull him closer. "We're all scared, love."

After a moment, I run my fingers through his hair and tentatively ask.
"What happened, Trip?"

He is instantly tense and he pushes me away a little.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he says. "Not yet." He draws a deep
breath and I watch his eyes slip closed. He looks utterly exhausted.

"D'ya mind if I stay here tonight?"

"Mind? Why would I mind? Of course you can stay."

---
Trip
---

"It's not as hard as I thought it would be, admitting that I need him;
that I'm scared. I expected him to push me away and to tell me to get
outta his sight. I had no right to expect any different, but I'm glad
he didn't. Yet, much as I might want to, I can't tell him about T'Pol.
Even though I know it's not like last time. I didn't kiss her or
anything; not like the time with Kaitaama...this is nothing like that,
but with all the hell we went through over that, I just can't bring
myself to tell him yet.

He asks me what happened and I turn the question aside, ask if I can
stay the night. He seems confused by my askin' but he says I can stay.

I know I'll hafta tell him what happened, but not yet. Tonight I just
wanna lie in his arms and try to rest. God, I'm so tired...my head is
spinning with it. If I can just get one decent night's sleep...

I'll tell him tomorrow. I stumble to my feet and head for the bed.

Malcolm follows me and helps me to get my shoes off before I lie down,
fully clothed on his bed.

He joins me and envelops me. I feel cocooned and protected by his warm
body pressed against mine.

Just as I drift into exhausted sleep I hear him whisper...

"I'm glad you're here....whatever your reasons."

---
Trip
---

It was different this time. Oh I mean the storyline of the dream was
different. Usually I'm in Florida trying to warn Lizzie to get out
before the pillar of fire hits her. Not this time.

This time I'm at the old amusement park, in some kinda maze...I'm
walking around and at first it's all good fun, I can hear a little
girl laughin' it's Elizabeth's laugh. I'd know it anywhere.

"Elizabeth!" I call frustrated. "Where are you?"

"You can't find me!" I hear her chant in a teasing voice.

Then, I'm grown up, and the maze turns to blackened, charred rubble
and I'm digging; tearing my hands to ribbons, I feel my nails comin'
away from their beds as I scream her name and tear at the huge chunks
of mud and stone.

"LIZZIE! LIZZIE!" I'm sobbing, my face covered with the tears I can
never shed for her when I'm awake.

"You can't find me." Her voice...her adult voice. "You can't find me!"

"NO!"

I start awake, sweating, my face wet with the tears I cried in my
sleep. Something's pressin' down on me and I panic, crying out. "Lemme
go!"

"Trip?"

"Malcolm..." I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

"Bad dream?" His voice seems to come from a distance and I nod.

"I'm sorry," he says. He pulls me against him and I don't resist. It's
nice to have him here when I wake up. The dream already seems like a
distant echo, and I relax into the warmth of him. He kisses my hair,
then my forehead and then his lips seek mine in the darkness.

When our lips meet, fire rips through me. I realize I want him, and I
hate myself for it at the same time. I'm using him, but I can't deny
the heat which courses through me and I return his kisses with
passion.

---
Malcolm
---

His cries wake me and I'm confused for a moment. It seems so long
since he has shared my bed that I've become unaccustomed to having him
there.

Struggling, he demands that I let him go; I call his name.

He relaxes and takes a few deep breaths.

"Bad dream?" I ask and feel, rather than see his nod in the darkness.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, and I am sincere. I can't imagine how it
would affect me if it had been Madeline who died. I don't know what
else to do, so I begin to kiss him. I've missed him so much. I need
him so badly.

When he responds with passion, my heart leaps for joy and I deepen the
kiss, exploring his mouth with my tongue, pulling him still closer in
the starlit gloom of my quarters. My hands begin to explore, slowly
undressing him. His breath is ragged in my ears and he fights to get
out of his clothing as quickly as possible.

I have him undressed, warm and passionate and my hand finds his cock.
I stroke him and delight in the impassioned whimpers the action
engenders.

"I need you, Trip," I whisper and he kisses me again.

---
Trip
---

God, it's been so long; too long and I push the nagging thoughts of
using Malcolm to the back of my mind and just let him caress and kiss
me.

In the darkness of his cabin the only sounds are our ragged breathing
and the silken whisper of skin against skin. I moan his name as he
burns a trail of kisses over my chest and belly and lower.

When he takes me into his mouth my hips buck off the bed and I cry out
with need.

This is one thing Malcolm is damned good at. My head reels with the
pleasure of being sucked and caressed by his warm, wet mouth and I
shudder as the tension mounts.

---
Malcolm
---

The feel of him, the smell, musky and spicy, the taste; my senses are
overloaded by him. His moans and cries of pleasure add to my own and I
allow a growl of desire to escape, knowing he feels the vibration of
it surrounding that most sensitive tip that I hold in my mouth. His
organ twitches in response and I sigh happily and settle in for a long
teasing session.

Within a few moments, he's writhing on the bed, begging me to finish
it and I decide to be merciful; add my hand into the mix and within
seconds I am rewarded with the sweet, tangy essence I hunger for as he
comes with a shuddering groan of release.

I make my way back up along his body to kiss him.

He returns the kiss but he is hesitant. I try to read his expression
in the dark, and I softly speak his name. "Trip?"

He sighs and touches my cheek with his fingertips and then he gently
pushes me off of him and sits up.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," is all he says before he quickly dresses and
leaves my cabin.

What went wrong? What did I do...or not do that upset him?

I don't sleep anymore that night.

---

End