The BLTS Archive - The Four Horsemen (Famine) "Oh Captain! my Captain!" by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com) --- Date posted: November 15, 2002 Feedback: Yes Series/sequel: Yes. This is a sequel to my stories "As Long As You Want", "If Only" "Duty Vs Desire" and "Stepping Stones" available at the list archives and at http://kalkasar.ussimperator.com Challenge: Yes The Four Horsemen Challenge. This is the horseman "Famine." Archive: Yes to EntSTSlash only. Text of all three fics also available at Kalita's Web site. Spoilers: None Warnings: None Beta: None Author's Notes: The excerpt Malcolm reads first in this story is from a Poem by Australian Poet, Adam Lindsay Gordon titled, "Ye Wearie Wayfarer, hys Ballad." Gordon lived and died in the 19th Century in New South Wales and has long been an inspiration to me. The Poem 'Ars Longa' that is mentioned here is a particular favourite of mine. Adam Lindsay Gordon's works can be found in full online at http://whitewolf.newcastle.edu.au/words/authors/G/GordonAdamLindsay/in dex.html The Poem "O Captain! my Captain!" was written as a tribute to Abraham Lincoln by Walter Witman. It inspired the bunny for this tale. Also, I was inspired by shi_shi's "Deimos" and Pretzelduck's series, insomnia/act of faith I think that was the names of them; major thanks go to those two writers. (I'm sure you will see which passages). Dubious honor to TPTB for suggesting in canon that Reed is bookish and likes to read. However, why didn't he say he reads when Archer asked him about hobbies? Isn't reading considered a hobby anymore in 2151?? --- The small table in Captain Archer's quarters was strewn with the used dishes from dinner. Muted light from a small lamp on the desk illuminated the cabin but left enough shadows to create an intimate atmosphere for the two men who relaxed on the sofa, a padd held between them as Reed read aloud. "Question not, but live and labour Till yon goal be won, Helping every feeble neighbour, Seeking help from none; Life is mostly froth and bubble, Two things stand like stone, Kindness in another's trouble, Courage in your own. Courage, comrades, this is certain, All is for the best- There are lights behind the curtain- Gentiles, let us rest. As the smoke-rack veers to seaward, From "the ancient clay", With its moral drifting leeward, Ends the wanderer's lay." "That's a nice poem," Archer said softly. Reed nodded, "It's always been one of my favourites," he replied. "You read well, Malcolm," Archer said softly, gazing into Reed's eyes as the lieutenant turned to look at him. "My Grandfather used to read to me when I was a boy," Reed volunteered. "I suppose I gained my love of reading and poetry from him." He smiled. "Actually, I have another poem here," He flicked through the pages of the padd. "One that was a particular favourite with my grandfather, by Walter Witman, in tribute to your president Lincoln...ah, here it is..." He paused a moment, then began to read in the measured tones he had used with the other poem. "O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead." Archer let his eyes close as he listened to the poem. It was familiar to him but he'd never heard it read with such conviction and feeling before. His lips curved in a smile and he rested his head against the back of the sofa. His mind drifted towards sleep as he listened to the soothing, rhythmic cadence of Reed's voice and he relaxed deeper into the cushions. "Captain? "Sir?" Archer started, realizing he must have drifted to sleep and he sat up straight quickly, rubbing at his eyes with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry," he said and shook his head. "Rude of me," "I hope I wasn't boring you, Sir..." Archer shook his head. "Jon," he said firmly. "Remember? Ranks at the door." "Perhaps I should..." "No!" Archer reached out and took hold of Reed's arm as the younger man made to stand up. "Please don't go." Reed blinked, glancing down at the hand on his arm, but he sank back into the sofa. "I don't want to tire you too much; my life is forfeit if Phlox finds out I wore you out. I'm supposed to be making sure you..." He trailed off, biting his lip and Archer laughed softly. "So Phlox put you up to this?" "Not exactly." Staring at the younger man, Archer was surprised, and delighted to note a flush of pink stealing into his cheeks. "Malcolm?" "It was my idea, S--Jon. I wanted to..." "You wanted to bring me dinner and read poetry to me?" Archer couldn't hide the broad smile that lit his features; he didn't want to hide it. "I'm ..." "Well, you asked me..." Reed stopped and smiled shyly. "Sorry. Go on." "No, it's all right. I asked you...?" "What hobbies I pursue." Reed met his eyes. "I couldn't bring my collection to show you, so I thought poetry was the next best thing." Archer let his breath out on a happy sigh. "Thank you." He was sincere. His questions about Reed's hobbies and interests had been genuine attempts to gain more insight into the man, and that Reed had decided of his own volition to share something that was obviously so special to him was more than the captain could have hoped for. He reached for the padd and scanned the text still on screen. "This deck where my captain lies, fallen cold and dead," he read aloud and then looked into Reed's eyes. "I'm not dead, Malcolm." He put the padd down on a side table and raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "I know that, Jon," Reed's eyes locked to his, unwavering. "It's your job, as my armoury officer to see to it that I stay alive," Archer breathed, leaning closer to Reed on the sofa. "Oh, yes," the lieutenant agreed. "A job I take very seriously." His eyelids drooped over darkening eyes. Archer thought he had never seen Reed look sexier or more seductive. He licked his lips. "Alive and well and...happy," he whispered. "Uh-hmm," a small nod and those tempting lips parted. This time there would be no interruptions. Archer had taken the precaution of closing out the comms so that only an urgent message from T'Pol or Hoshi would reach him, and his cabin was locked. No one would call, or enter without his authorization. He'd waited long enough to taste those lips, and nothing would prevent him doing so tonight. With a sigh, he lifted a hand to Reed's cheek, leaning closer still and then, tenderly, almost a question, he touched Reed's lips with his own. Reed didn't close his eyes, as their lips met and Archer liked that, it spoke of the frankness of the man, and that he came to this moment with no reservations. Emboldened, he slipped his arms around the slight frame and drew Reed closer, his explorations becoming more adventurous. Now he saw those eyes slip closed as Reed gave himself fully into the kiss, his lips parting further to allow Archer's tongue into his mouth. Reed's tongue tasted of the pineapple he'd eaten for desert with ice cream and there was another, more subtle flavour, a taste that was Reed; unique. Spreading his hands out across Reed's back, Archer pressed closer, deepened the kiss until he could hear his own breath, harsh in his ears, and could feel the warmth of his partner's breath against his cheek. He growled deep in his throat and finally, reluctantly broke off the contact, pulling back but keeping his arms around the younger man. He looked deep into the dark blue-grey eyes, noting the dilated pupils and flushed skin. "I've wanted this so long," Archer said, his voice sounding harsh and raspy to his own ears. Reed licked his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment, as though tasting a new food that he'd never had before. After a moment, he smiled. "You taste good," he said in a breathy undertone. It was too much for Archer, the whispered words driving the hunger in him to fever pitch. He swiftly captured the yielded lips again, rougher this time, surer; he plundered the willing mouth until he had tasted every hidden recess and then drew back panting. "Malcolm, I want..." Reed shook his head and gently drew himself out of Archer's embrace. "Not tonight, Jon," he murmured. "It's too soon. You're barely out of sickbay." Archer was about to protest but he noted the determined look in Reed's eyes and relented with a sigh. "Stay though?" he asked. Reed considered. "All right," he said at length. "But only to make sure you rest, understood?" "Yes sir," the captain said with a smirk. "Come on then," Reed got to his feet and picked up the padd. "I'll read you to sleep." Archer moved to the bed, slowly stripping out of the casual clothes he'd worn for their dinner, hoping to tantalize the young Brit with the sight of the body he was prepared to deny himself of. "Bribery, chicanery and scheming won't work," Reed informed him; he stripped to his skivvies and slipped into the bed. "I'm quite impervious to all of that -- part of my training." He ended with an amused grin as the captain turned to look at him. "You're no fun!" Archer accused. "I'm a security officer," Reed retorted. "I am supposed to be dangerous, not fun." "Oh, you're that, all right," Archer said sincerely. He climbed into the bed next to the younger man and settled himself comfortably. Reed nestled closer, resting his head on Archer's shoulder as he flicked through the pages of the padd and finally settled on a poem to read. "This is another of Gordon's poems," he said, "He was an Australian poet, and he wrote the one I read to you earlier, this one is titled, 'Ars Longa,' it's quite lovely..." Smiling, Archer nodded and settled to listen to the soothing voice. He was happy just to have Reed here, in his bed, even if nothing else came of it for now. The man's presence was a gift that Archer would not have hoped to gain just a few days before. He sighed with contentment and closed his eyes. --- The End