The BLTS Archive - Cold Comfort: D series:
#7: Disparity
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

---

Beta: Haggy holds my hand, Red reassures me this is not cornball. No
beta as such. All mistakes must be neutralized before return.

Special Credit/Thanks: To the wonderful MJ who helped me come up with
the title for this story. You Rock MJ!

Spoilers: Mild for Extinction

Warnings: angst-O-rama

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.

Authors Note: In the first part, Tucker calls his sister "Liz'beth"
which made me tear up when I 'heard' it. In the TV series, Tucker
always enunciates the E. when he doesn't call her Lizzie, he says
E-lizabeth, but those references are always in public, I figure it is
possible, and in my universe it *is* a private pet name he has for
her...just in case it matters to anyone how he says her name. :) Also,
as far as I am aware, canon doesn't mention if Tucker went home to his
family or not during the time Enterprise was back on earth. I have
assumed not, for the purposes of this story.

---

"I just hope that Malcolm is sure this is what he wants," Travis
Mayweather sat across a table from Hoshi Sato as they shared an early
breakfast before their shifts on the bridge commenced.

The navigator had just finished filling Hoshi in on the details of
what had happened after he and Malcolm left the movie a few nights
earlier.

"I'm hoping they can still work things out, but I have to admit I
haven't enjoyed watching Malcolm get hurt these past few weeks."
Travis took another mouthful of his breakfast. "He sure isn't any
happier since the other night either."

Hoshi nodded sympathetically. "I don't blame him for doing it though,"
she murmured. "The commander hasn't exactly been the model lover."

"Yeah, but it's been a tough time for him, losing his sister like
that." Travis shook his head.

Hoshi leveled a pained look at her friend. "You lost your father not
so long ago, and you've coped much better than Trip."

Reluctant to give up his defense of the commander, Mayweather
shrugged. "That was different, I had time with my family and it helped
-- a lot. Commander Tucker didn't have that chance."

"Correction, he was given the opportunity, he just didn't take it."
Hoshi sipped her plomeek broth and shook her head. "Starfleet command
authorized compassionate leave for him when we returned to Earth. He
took a couple of days, but he didn't visit his family; just the site
where his sister used to live. He could have taken longer..."

Travis got to his feet. "Well, if the situation when my dad died had
been the same, I might not have wanted to go home either."

"Why are you so determined to defend him?" Hoshi asked. "You have to
admit, the commander hasn't been the easiest person to live with
recently!"

"I know," Travis replied. "All I'm saying is that we don't really know
how we would react in the same circumstances. I just think we ought to
cut him a little slack.

"Well, maybe you're right," Hoshi relented. "I just hope that they
*can* work things out. Trip and Malcolm belong together. It'd be a
shame to think it was really over for them."

Travis nodded and picked up his tray as Hoshi got to her feet. "Me
too," he said with a heavy sigh. "Malcolm was really starting to
loosen up for a while there. Trip's good for him."

They dumped their trays and then headed for the bridge.

---

Commander Charles Tucker III went through the motions of his day as
though he was on auto-pilot. He was beyond caring whether he paid
attention to detail anymore. Overwhelming exhaustion, coupled with a
numbing sense of loss was all he was capable of feeling. He'd thought
it couldn't get any worse until a few days ago.

His world was already in fragments, but then, the final blow had
fallen when Malcolm Reed came to his cabin and silently handed the
commander all the personal effects that Trip had left in his lover's
quarters over time.

The fragments had shattered into slivers and he had nothing left.
Somehow he kept breathing and moving and going through the motions of
life, but inside there was nothing but empty, dead space.

He blinked slowly, staring into a computer console. The same one he'd
been staring into for at least the last five minutes. He couldn't make
sense of anything on the screen. It might as well have been written in
Xindi.

Xindi. Trip's head came up. The Xindi had done this. They had brought
him to this state. The name was like a thorn somewhere in his skin, an
irritation and annoyance that he wanted to pick off and cast away...he
would, just as soon as he could find out where they were. He promised
himself that; the promise of that sweet vengeance was all that kept
him going.

Well, almost going.

A voice next to his ear made him start and spin around as though
expecting an attack.

"Sir?" Michael Rostov took a half step away from the engineer, wincing
at the obvious lines of strain and exhaustion in his commanding
officer's features. "I didn't mean to startle you, Sir." He smiled
disarmingly, "Your shift ended about ten minutes ago."

"Oh." Tucker glanced at a nearby chrono, hardly making sense of the
blurred numerals. He palmed his face. "Right," he muttered and
stumbled towards the exit.

"G'night, Sir." Rostov watched the engineer leave and then returned to
his work with a slight shake of his head.

Tucker made his way into the corridor where he paused and leaned
against a bulkhead. He didn't know where to go. For now, the idea of
returning to his cabin was repugnant. He'd spent too much time there
lately, and besides, there were too many painfully fresh memories
there just now. He closed his eyes; his head spun and he felt as
though he would pitch forward any second and fall on his face. So
tired...

He shook head to clear it. What did he want?

Tucker lifted his head, staring along the corridor and sniffed the
air. "What is that?" He sniffed again. "Peaches..." He took a half
step forward. "I can smell peaches...*Georgia* peaches!"

Maybe the smell was real, and maybe it wasn't, but Peaches had been a
favorite treat when he and Lizzie were growing up, and Tucker suddenly
had an intense desire to eat some.

He walked forward more confidently. He'd bought a case of Georgia
peaches when *Enterprise* had returned to Earth. A smile touched the
engineer's lips as he made his way to the food stores.

The peaches were in stasis, just as he'd expected them to be, and he
took a couple out of the storage area and sank down on the floor with
his back against a bulkhead.

Biting into the tangy-sweet flesh of one of the fruit, Tucker closed
his eyes with a moan of delight.

An instant later his eyes snapped open again as a feminine voice
joined him in appreciation of the fruit.

She sat on the floor opposite. Her long hair falling in soft waves
around her shoulders, eyes closed as she savored the fruit on her
tongue. And then, she opened her eyes, bright, happy, blue eyes and
smiled at him.

"I haven't had a Georgia peach in months!"

"Lizzie?" His voice was hoarse and Tucker cleared his throat. "You
can't be here," he said softly. "You're..."

Lizzie shrugged and a small musical chuckle broke from her lips.
"Well, I am. So there." She wrinkled her nose at him playfully and
took another bite of the peach.

Deciding he must be dreaming again, Tucker leaned back against the
bulkhead with a sigh and took another bite of his fruit. At least this
wasn't a dream of death and destruction and he decided he might as
well enjoy it while it lasted. He stared at his sister as he ate in
silence.

"It's good to see you eating," Lizzie said. "I knew the smell of
peaches would tempt you."

"You did that, huh?" Tucker rolled a piece of fruit across his tongue
before swallowing it. "You still know me too well."

"Charles," Lizzie leaned forward, gazing into his eyes. "You should
share these with Malcolm."

His head snapped up. "Wha?"

"The peaches, Malcolm would probably like them too."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Tucker stared at the half
eaten fruit in his hand. "Malcolm and I..."

"I know." Lizzie touched his hand and Tucker almost jumped out of his
skin. She felt warm and real and alive. He met her eyes, his own
filling with tears.

"I don't wanna lose him, Liz'beth," he whispered.

"Then fight for him. Get better, Charles. I don't want you to be sad."

Tucker closed his eyes with a sob. "I'll try," he said.

When he opened his eyes again she was gone. Tucker stared at the space
where she'd been sitting and then dropped his gaze to the fruit in his
hand. Was it real or did he dream her presence?

*"Get better, Charles. I don't want you to be sad."* Lizzie's words
echoed in his head and Tucker dragged himself to his feet.

He grabbed a small stasis unit from a shelf and put three peaches into
it. It was late he realized. He must have been sitting here much
longer than he'd thought, but he pressed a comm unit and called
T'Pol's quarters.

---

This *creature* was Malcolm?

Tucker stared at the humanoid where it lay unconscious on the floor of
the shuttlepod. Okay so it was in Starfleet uniform, it had
Lieutenant's rank pips on the breast. It had shaggy dark hair that
*might* be Malcolm's if it was washed and combed. But the resemblance
didn't go much further than that.

Added to that was the fact it had been intent on killing him. Just as
intent as the one T'Pol called 'Captain' had been.

Tucker's friends were completely unrecognizable, and he had a pounding
headache as testament to being slammed across the face with half a
tree.

Jon, if that thing could even be *called* Jon had intended that blow
to kill. As it was, the faceplate of his suit absorbed most of the
impact, whilst his face was slammed against the inside of his helmet.
Tucker closed his eyes. God, his head hurt.

Tucker cast a cursory glance over the other members of the away team.
Chang didn't look much happier than Tucker felt. He was conscious, but
clearly sore, and pissed off about it. He'd been attacked by 'Malcolm'
as well, and he was obviously devoting at least a part of his
attention to kicking his own ass about it.

With a sigh, the Commander returned his attention to getting them all
back to Enterprise safely. He would worry about his headache and the
morale of the away team as soon as he had 'Malcolm' secured in decon
and could get the captain, Hoshi and T'Pol back from that planet.

Docking the shuttlepod and getting Malcolm to sickbay was a lengthy
process. Full bio-hazard protocols meant that just getting to where
they could get out of the EV suits took more than an hour. By then,
Tucker's head felt like it would explode and when Phlox applied gentle
pressure across his nose, forehead and cheekbones, he winced and
hissed with pain.

"What happened, Commander?" Phlox asked and Tucker shook his head.

"I walked into a tree that had Cap'n Archer attached to the end of
it," he muttered. "Can you just gimme somethin' for the headache, Doc?
I don't have time to hang around here."

Phlox grunted an affirmative and picked up a hypospray. "Under the
current circumstances, I agree, but I want you to return if the pain
doesn't significantly decrease within the next half hour, understood?"

"Sure, Doc." Tucker was off the biobed almost before the medication
had fully discharged into his system. "I'll come back and check on
Malcolm as soon as I can," he said distractedly as he headed for the
doors.

Stepping into the corridor, Tucker drew a deep breath, relieved to get
away from the doctor, and distance himself from what had happened on
the planet. He needed time to process. He wasn't the kind of combat
soldier the MACOS were, neither was he conditioned to battle the way
that Malcolm was. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as
his knees went suddenly weak. He'd been engaged in a battle for his
life down there.

The realization hit him hard; his best friend and his lover had just
tried to kill him.

His lover -- Malcolm.

"Oh my god." Tucker felt his knees give out and he slid down the wall,
swallowing hard against a wave of nausea. "That's *Malcolm*...my
Malcolm..."

The sound of the sickbay doors sliding open had him struggle to his
feet with an effort.

"Commander?" it was Chang. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah." He straightened, squaring his shoulders with an effort. "I'm
okay...I...thanks," he managed before he forced himself to walk away.
He couldn't go back into sickbay. He needed time to sort through some
things first, and besides, the ship and the crew were hardly out of
the woods yet. He needed to focus on finding a way to get the rest of
his people back on board.

But first, he needed a shower. Yes, he'd been through the whole
bio-hazard cleanup and yes, all his clothing from the away mission had
been removed and what couldn't be sanitized would be destroyed but,
still his skin felt grimy -- dirty. It was a deep sense of violation
that wouldn't go away. Tucker headed for his cabin, he needed to wash
his hair, scrub his skin and get into clean clothes...again.

---

It seemed as though he scrubbed for hours before the violated feeling
was finally quelled enough to let him get out of the shower and dress
in a fresh uniform. He neatly combed his hair, pulling himself back
together the best he could. He really should go back to the sickbay
and at least look in on Malcolm.

The amazing thing was that as tired as he'd been the night before, he
now felt alert, awake and ready to take on anyone or anything that
stood between him and his aim of getting his people back.

Tucker squared his shoulders as he stepped out of his cabin. The time
for sitting around sniveling was past. He had a job to do and he
planned to do it. His tread more resolute than it had been in weeks,
the commander made his way back to the sickbay.

Approaching the doors though, his pace faltered. That thing that he'd
brought back from the planet had leaped at him out of the cover of
thick undergrowth with murder in its eyes and he was meant to believe
it was Malcolm? He still couldn't quite reconcile that with the gentle
and tender lover he knew Malcolm to be. He swallowed hard before he
entered the sickbay.

Phlox stood with his back to the engineer, watching the alien creature
on a small monitor.

'Malcolm' rampaged around the decon chamber, growling and chittering
to himself in a language Tucker couldn't understand. His body language
spoke of fear and anger and he examined every crack and crevice in the
walls for possible escape routes.

Tucker watched for a second and then he spoke, almost defiantly.

"He didn't even recognize me!"

"Don't be offended, in his current condition I doubt that he'd
recognize any of us," the doctor replied.

A little chastened, Tucker turned his attention to asking about
Malcolm's condition.

Trying to focus while Phlox explained just what the mutagenic virus
was doing to Malcolm's body, Tucker fought down another wave of
nausea. He'd been right, that thing *wasn't* Malcolm. At least not the
Malcolm Tucker knew and loved. It was an alien being whose DNA was
taking over and obliterating every trace of the man Trip loved.

T'Pol seemed to have immunity. That's was a glimmer of hope in an
otherwise impossible situation. Tucker's mind clutched at it, even as
he answered a summons to the Bridge. It seemed they were about to have
company, and as the senior ranking officer aboard, he was going to
have to field this one.

---

Tucker's mood was not much improved by the discussion over the comms
with some alien quarantine agent who was coming aboard Enterprise to
'assess' Malcolm's condition and decide whether the 'organism' should
be eradicated. The commander ground his teeth in anger as he made his
way along a corridor.

The alien's attitude had grated on him from the moment they had
answered the hail. He hadn't even got a chance to properly introduce
himself before being bluntly informed Enterprise was in restricted
space.

The encounter had gone decidedly downhill from there. Tucker fumed.
There was no way anyone was going to come aboard his ship, summarily
dealing death to anyone, most particularly not *Malcolm.*

*"Does he look like a member of your crew? Does he recognize you? Does
he even speak your language?"*

Tucker muttered a curse as he turned his steps towards the decon
chamber. There was only one way to find the answers to those
questions. He would talk to Malcolm. Surely Reed would remember him.
They were lovers, he *had* to -- his life depended on it.

The creature paced the confines of the chamber restlessly,
occasionally pausing to scratch at the walls and make that strange
soft sound, like the clicking of teeth overlaid with a muted purring.
It paid no attention to Tucker when he stopped at the small
observation port.

Trip watched for a few moments before he pressed the intercom.

"Malcolm."

With a snarl, the creature turned in the direction of the port,
staring at him with those odd, light eyes. It half crouched, wringing
its hands together and tilting its head to one side.

Tucker swallowed hard and pressed on. "Malcolm, it's me, Trip...you
know me, dontcha?"

Hunkering down, the creature sniffed the air, apparently trying to
catch his scent and Tucker shook his head.

"I'm sorry ya can't smell anythin' we have t'keep the chamber sealed."
He stepped closer to the window. "Malcolm, do ya remember anythin'?
Enterprise? Phlox? It's important. You hafta remember."

A few shuffling steps brought the creature close to the window, and it
pressed its fingers against the glass.

"Urrrrquaaaaat," it said. "I don't remember...what happened. Must go
to...Urquaaat, they will tell me."

Tears pricked behind Tucker's eyelids and he took a deep breath. "I
don't know what Urquat is," he said.

The creature bared its teeth, tipping its head to one side. "Urquaaat.
Let me go. Why...are you...keeping me heeere? I must...go to
Urquaaat."
"I can't let ya go, Malcolm," Tucker whispered. I won't, he told
himself silently, he moved to lay his fingers against the glass,
pressing them over Malcolm's where they still pawed at the glass.

"Enterprise is your home. You belong here with....us."

With a sudden and violent motion, the creature hurled himself against
the glass, snarling at Tucker. "Urquat! Let...me...go!"

Tucker stumbled backwards and shook his head. "I can't...I'm sorry."

"kkkkkkkk" The creature's posture changed and it pressed against the
glass once more. "Come...with me...we can...go together....you will
see...Trip..."

At the sound of his name on the lips of the creature, Tucker turned
away, his heart aching. Malcolm wasn't there. This was just some alien
animal that would do anything to get loose. He blinked back tears as
he headed for the doors. There were only a scant few minutes left
before the containment agents would arrive aboard Enterprise.

As if on cue, the comm. panel came to life and Travis called him from
the bridge.

"Tucker," he answered, trying to ignore the growing leaden weight in
his guts.

"The commander of the containment ship has arrived, sir." Travis
informed him.

Tucker nodded. "Have someone escort him to sickbay," he replied.
"Tucker out."

Leaving the decon area, Tucker made his way to sickbay. Maybe Phlox
had worked out some way to counter the virus by now. It was the one
last, slim hope he had. Even if Phlox hadn't found a cure, Tucker
thought, he would be damned if he would let these people...whoever
they were, hurt Malcolm, or any other member of his crew. He would do
anything in his power to prevent that.

Phlox was bent over a computer console, muttering about readouts when
Tucker entered sickbay. The commander moved to the doctor's side.

"The quarantine officer is on his way here," he said grimly. He met
the doctor's eyes as Phlox straightened. "I went to see Malcolm."

"I was observing," Phlox said with a nod. "Did you see any indication
that he knows you?"

"No." Tucker looked down at his hands and shifted his weight from one
foot to the other. "Doc, there's somethin' I gotta say, and it's not
easy, but..." Passing his tongue across his lips, Tucker closed his
eyes and pressed on quickly. "If worse comes to worst and we can't
cure this...if they hafta be..." Tucker lifted his head and went on
resolutely. "I want it to happen here -- humanely and amongst people
who know them and give a damn about...who they are...were." He almost
choked over the last few words. "I won't let these people who don't
know or care about them just..."

"It may not come to that, Commander," Phlox replied. His kindly blue
eyes clouded with sympathy. "However, I understand your reasoning, and
I concur." The Denobulan reached out one hand, almost hesitantly and
made the briefest physical contact, brushing his fingers across
Tucker's upper arm. "Optimism, hm?"

---

Charles Tucker III strode into the decon area to find Phlox awaiting
him. "What's happening?" he asked.

"Ah! You're just in time, Commander!" Phlox turned to greet him with a
wide grin. "You'll be happy to know your idea with the peach was
successful and I have developed a counter-agent against the virus that
is affecting Liuetenant Reed. As he spoke, the doctor held up a small
vial of greenish looking fluid. "All I need to do now is administer
it."

"That's great, Doc." Tucker felt relief wash over him as he glanced
through the viewing port at the alien which had ceased pacing and
appeared to be asleep, sprawled on the floor of the chamber. Tucker's
brow creased in a frown. "We can't go in there with it -- him," he
said. "So how are you gonna give him the medicine?"

"The mutagenic virus was airborne," Phlox explained. "I see no reason
why, in Mister Reed's case the counter-agent can't be applied in the
same way." He moved towards a control panel. "I've never had to use
this function of the chamber before, but it's always been available."

The doctor slotted the vial into a small aperture on the control panel
and tapped a few controls. "This will discharge the agent into the air
and Lieutenant Reed will inhale it."

Nodding absently, Tucker moved to the view port, watching the sleeping
creature inside.

"How long before it takes effect?"

"Oh it should start working immediately," Phlox replied, "though it
may be some time before we notice any outward changes."

Tucker sighed and acknowledged the doctor's words with another small
nod. His eyes were fixed on the form of the Loqueque where he lay
sleeping on the floor.

He'd gotten the idea to fetch a peach from T'Pol's quarters after the
doctor told him that time was running out earlier.

T'Pol had accepted his gift of the peaches with the usual Vulcan lack
of grace and had taken one bite out of one of the fruit before setting
them aside, telling him his gift didn't make up for the sessions he'd
cancelled.

Tucker still felt the sting of that like a slap in the face. Following
so close on the heels of his vision or dream of Lizzie, whatever it
had been, the cool reception from T'Pol had been a harsh let down. The
irony of it wasn't lost on him though. Something the Vulcan had
considered of small value was instrumental in saving her life...if
this cure worked.

{C'mon, Malcolm...you've gotta fight! Come back to me.}

Suddenly, the Loqueque was tensely alert and sprang to his feet,
sniffing the air. His eyes wild, he scuttled into a corner and
crouched, sniffing the air suspiciously and then he seemed to go into
a panic, racing around the chamber, clawing at the walls.

Tucker pressed the intercom. "Malcolm," he said softly. "It's okay,
Malcolm, nothing's wrong. No-ones gonna hurt you..."

At the sound of Tucker's voice, the creature paused a moment and
glanced towards the port. "Let me...ouuut," he growled.
"Air...bad...what are you...doing?"

"The air has medicine in it. It's to...help you remember..." Tucker
faltered over the half lie and pressed closer to the glass. "Trust me,
Malcolm, please. Everything's gonna be okay."

Behind him, the doctor cleared his throat and Tucker glanced over his
shoulder.

"I think I will observe from the sickbay," Phlox said. "I can access
the chamber controls from there if need be." He smiled and quietly
left.

Tucker turned his attention to the decon chamber and swallowed hard as
the man inside hunkered down in a corner.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," Tucker whispered. He closed his eyes for a
moment, unable to watch the obviously terrified creature.

"I must go to Urquaat they will help me remember...the air...bad! let
me ouuut!!" The Loqueque fell to making that little purring noise and
Tucker opened his eyes.

"Just a little longer, then you can come out, I promise."

Tucker moved closer, pressing his hands to the glass barrier. He
watched in horror as Malcolm suddenly arched his back with a harsh cry
and then doubled over, groaning in pain. The engineer hit the comm.
button. "Phlox!"

"Relax, Commander," The doctor's serene voice came back. "This is
perfectly normal. He has begun to revert."

"He's hurtin'!"

"That is an unfortunate side effect of the mutation, I can't do
anything for it as yet."

Tucker swallowed, nausea assailing him as Malcolm clutched at his
head, wailing in pain. "Malcolm..." he called through the intercom.
"Malcolm, it's okay....I know it hurts, I know you're scared, but it's
nearly over." He longed to get into the chamber and take his lover in
his arms. "God, Malcolm...I'm so sorry." And he realized, somewhere in
the back of his mind that the apology held so much more than just this
moment, this pain. He sobbed and kept talking, not knowing what else
to do.

"I'm sorry for pushing you out...I'm sorry that I've been a selfish
ass...I'm sorry that I...I just didn't care what you were feelin' or
..." he choked. "I hope you can forgive me, Malcolm."

The man inside the chamber fell silent, still hunched over, his hands
covering his face, Tucker clawed at the glass. "I don't wanna lose
you, Malcolm. I love you," he whispered as he closed his eyes and
allowed stinging tears to fall. "I love you."

Leaning against the glass, Tucker finally gave vent to the pain he'd
been bottling up. His shoulders heaved with the helpless sobs and his
fingers curled against the glass that separated him from the most
important person in his life.

He cried openly, not caring anymore who saw or heard him. He wept for
his lost sister, for the aching space left in her place in his heart.
He wept for the man he had pushed out of his life, for the friends
he'd held at arms length, for his family whom he'd barely made contact
with since the attack on earth. He allowed his knees to give and
slowly sank to the floor, lost in his own grief for the moment.

He sat there, weeping for a long time, until a gentle voice broke
through his sorrow; a familiar, accented voice over the intercom.

"Trip? Are you there? What's wrong?"

"Malcolm!" Tucker scrambled to his feet. "Malcolm!" He punched the
comm to sickbay, "Phlox..."

"Yes, Commander, I'm right here..." Phlox spoke right behind him and
Tucker started, glancing over his shoulder. The doctor turned to look
through the viewing-port. "Welcome back, Lieutenant."

"What happened?" Malcolm frowned. "I don't seem to recall...I was on
the planet with the captain, we had located a ship...I...Was there an
accident? Why am I in decon?"

"We will explain everything, Lieutenant," Phlox said, "But time is
limited."

"Is it safe to let him out?" Tucker looked from the doctor to Malcolm
and back.

"I'm afraid not, Commander," Phlox said with a small shake of his
head. "I can't risk letting anyone come into contact with the mutagen,
until I am able to inoculate the rest of the crew.

"Inoculate?" Malcolm's frown deepened. "What happened? Where is the
captain? the others? Are they injured?"

Tucker sighed and looked into the almost familiar face of his lover
through the glass. "It's a long story, Malcolm." He glanced at Phlox.
"At least we know it works, and I can go back for them."

"Would somebody *please* tell me what the bloody hell is going on?"
The irritation in Malcolm's voice made Tucker smile.

He glanced at Malcolm and then to Phlox. "I'll let you handle that
one, Doc. I have a rescue mission to organize." He grinned at Malcolm
one last time. "Good to have you, home, darlin'," he said and then
turned his thoughts to duty as he walked out of the decon area.

---

The End