The BLTS Archive - As Long As You Want
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

---

Spoilers: Detained, Minefield

Beta: Kimaken (hugs Kim you're the best!)

Feedback: Grows fatter bunnies.

Archive: Yes, to EntSTSlash ONLY No others, thanks.

Author's note: This little bunny has been hanging around my feet since
Detained screened here in Australia but he grew teeth and *really* bit
me when I saw Minefield. I had planned to 'zine this fic, but then I
changed my mind for various reasons.

---

Malcolm Reed surveyed his reflection in the mirror for the umteenth
time and sighed with a grimace. His hair just wouldn't sit right this
morning, and his uniform insisted on looking rumpled even though it
was a fresh one and he'd only had it on for five minutes. He shook his
head and picked up a padd from the table near the door on his way into
the hallway.

He couldn't for the life of him, imagine what the captain wanted. He'd
stopped Malcolm on his way off the bridge at the end of his duty shift
the previous day.

"Malcolm," Archer said with an affable smile. "I was wondering if
you'd join me for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Breakfast, sir?" Reed blinked a little in surprise and searched the
captain's face for a moment. Reading nothing in the older man's
expression beyond friendly anticipation, he'd given a brief nod. "Very
well, sir,"

"Good, see you at 07:30." Archer turned away and Reed made his way
into the turbolift, still puzzling over the suddeness of this
development.

---

He'd puzzled over the invitation all through dinner, and for most of
the evening as he'd attempted to keep his mind occupied with duty
rosters. The same rosters he now carried in his hand as he made his
way to the turbolift that would take him to the mess hall.

In all honesty, Reed had done his best to avoid the captain ever since
the incident which had seen Archer and Mayweather held prisoner by the
Tandarins in some kind of internment camp.

Having disguised himself as a Suliban with the assistance of Phlox,
Reed mounted a rescue attempt in consort with Commander Tucker. He
managed to infiltrate the prison and set charges to knock out a wall
near the complex's docking bays, and then searched the complex until
he found the cell where Archer was being held in solitary confinement.

The fact that the captain recognizing him had saved his life, had
seemed secondary at the time to Reed, who could only ask:

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Would you prefer I broke your neck and left you dead in the cell?"
Archer's voice was tinged with faint amusement as he lead the way
through the prison compound.

"That might be just a tad presumptuous of you, sir." Malcolm replied,
his own tone edged with more than a little irony. Glancing back at
him, Archer suppressed a smile.

"You don't think I could take you down?"

"You're forgetting, sir, I supervise your training bouts in the gym."

"Touché," Archer trailed off, gesturing behind him as he ducked
against a wall.

Following the captain's actions, Reed pressed himself against the
wall; he narrowed his eyes, tensed and ready to fire if need be,
keeping the phase pistol raised but close in to his body so that it
could be just as quickly concealed if the approaching footsteps turned
out to be friend rather than foe.

The subject was dropped until they returned to the ship, where Malcolm
had insisted on knowing the answer to his question.

"You never answered my question, sir?"

"Which one?" Archer turned to look at him, his eyes gleaming with
something indefinable.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Your eyes," Archer replied. "I've never seen a Suliban with such
pretty eyes."

"Pretty?" Reed was aghast. "That's hardly an apt description of my
eyes, Captain."

"All right," Archer considered for a moment, "How about beautiful,
then?"

He felt a hot flush staining his cheeks and lowered his eyes, unsure
how to respond to the captain's words. Before he could formulate an
answer, Archer clapped him on the shoulder. "Go get that disguise off,
Malcolm, before you break out all over in hives."

Again, that was something more intimate than Reed would have preferred
the captain to know. Then again, since his birthday, and some other,
more unfortunate occasions, Reed's problems with allergies had become
more widely known than the man would have liked. He sighed, nodding in
acknowledgement, and headed to sickbay.

From that time forward, he had kept a low profile where the captain
was concerned. The words that Archer had spoken that day had rarely
left his mind, if truth be told, but it was easier and far more
comfortable to avoid the captain than to confront him and try to make
sense of the situation.

As the turbolift came to a halt, Malcolm stepped out, adjusting his
uniform again and shifting the padd from his right hand to the left,
absently finger combing his hair as he walked the short distance into
the main mess hall. He paused a moment inside the door to check his
personal grooming yet again and swallowed hard as he stared at the
door to the captain's private mess. Briefly, he wondered exactly why
he felt as though he was a condemned man about to walk the thirteen
steps to his execution.

He moved forward, trying to ignore the cold sweat he felt break out
across his forehead.

Thumbing the button on the door, Reed waited tensely until he heard
the captain call, "Come in!"

Another tweak of the recalcitrant zipper on his uniform, and a deep
breath and he pressed the control to open the door.

"Good morning," The captain said as Reed hesitated a moment in the
doorway.

"Captain," Reed said. He stepped over the threshold and fumbled for a
moment with the padd he carried.

"Sleep well?"

"Uhm -- well enough," He held the padd in front of him, almost like a
shield and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Archer was standing near the viewport, and held a glass of orange
juice in his hand. His expression was open and friendly, nothing there
to give Reed any clues to the purpose of this meeting.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted for breakfast, so I took the liberty of
having chef prepare his famous Eggs Benedict," Archer said as he moved
to a seat.

"Ah -- that'll be fine, sir," he shuffled his feet again, fidgeting
with the padd in his hands and casting his gaze to the floor,
wondering again why the captain wanted to meet with him. He had been
hoping that Archer would come to the point quickly and he would be
able to get back to his duties. He didn't like the idea of a long,
leisurely meal complete with all the pleasantries. He frowned and
raised his eyes to the captain's face as Archer spoke.

"You plan to eat standing up?" Amusement was plain in the captain's
eyes, and Reed gave a small self-deprecating laugh as he moved to the
table and took a seat.

The padd became a problem now as he realized that it may be considered
ill mannered of him to put it on the table; it certainly would have in
his parents' household. Reed hesitated in the act of setting it on the
table and considered placing it in his lap, but the horrid thought of
what may happen should it fall from there seemed even worse than the
idea of being thought impolite. He stared blankly at the screen,
unable to decide until the captain's voice interrupted his dilemma.

"This isn't a visit to the principal's office, Malcolm. At ease,"
Archer said as he poured orange juice for Reed.

"Thank you, sir." Reed set the padd down on the table, trying
desperately not to fidget now that his hands were free. "I wasn't sure
if you had called me here to discuss something?" Reed prompted, hoping
that Archer would come to the point.

"No! No business," Archer seemed surprised that the lieutenant had
even thought so. "I just wanted to have a long overdue meal with my
armoury officer."

'Marvellous!' Reed thought, so it would be more small talk, more
social chit chat. He was about to reply when the door to the galley
slid open to admit a steward carrying two plates of eggs. 'If he
begins making inappropriate comments about my eyes, I shall have to
invent some excuse to get out of here.' He moved the padd from his
right to the left so that it would not be in the way as the steward
set a plate in front of him.

Glancing at his plate, Reed sighed. He didn't have any appetite, his
nerves had put paid to that. 'How on earth am I supposed to force this
lot down my throat?'  He looked at the captain. 'World cup?'

He shook his head, not understanding the reference the captain was
making. "I beg your pardon?"

"The World Cup?" Arhcer repeated himself politely. "Soccer?"

"Oh! I'm afraid I don't much follow football, sir."

"Any ... sports you do follow?" Archer seemed a little nonplussed and
nodded to the steward who had returned to set bowls of fruit in front
of them.

"No," Reed said, "Not particularly."

This meal was beginning to be distressingly like a date, or if not
that entirely, then certainly a 'getting to know you,' exercise. Reed
averted his eyes, unable to fathom that the captain, his commanding
officer could possibly be making advances on him. Regulations were
very clearly defined regarding fraternization. Malcolm had had those
regulations drilled into him, not only in his preparation for this
voyage, but most of his life living in the household of a staunch navy
man.

It was certainly not his place to recite the rule book to his captain
but the situation was making him increasingly uncomfortable. He raised
his eyes to the captain's face, noting that Archer himself was
beginning to seem ill at ease. The captain smiled at him and made a
gesture indicating that he should eat and began to cut into his eggs.

Reed glanced at the still unappealing food on his plate, and passed
his tongue across his lips. Seeking some reason not to try and force
the food into his stomach, his eyes fell on the datapadd and he
pounced on it.

"I've been working on the duty rosters, sir. We only have two crewmen
assigned to the armoury full time. If we added a third, Ensign Tanner
would be free to begin those upgrades to those torpedo launchers I
told you about.

Archer glanced at the padd as Reed held it out to him. "Didn't your
mother ever tell you not to bring your homework to the table?"

"Sir?"

The captain sighed, setting down his knife and fork. He picked up the
padd and gave it a cursory glance. "This looks fine," he handed the
padd back.

Reed nodded, satisfied that he had managed to direct the conversation
back onto secure ground and looked over the datapadd, seeking some
other point he could raise. He had flicked to another page and was
about to raise the matter of power relays and how to route more energy
to his weapons when the beep of the comm signal interrupted.

It turned out to be the reprieve Reed had hoped for. T'Pol reported
the discovery of a system containing a Minshara class planet along
Enterprise's current course. He was on his feet before the captain had
finished telling the science officer that he was on his way.

He left the captain's mess a few moments later, feeling as though a
great weight had dropped from his shoulders. He sighed, glancing at
the datapadd and then flicked off the screen display. That had been a
far more uncomfortable interlude than the one after the Tandarin
prison. He frowned, wondering what he would do if Archer made good on
his suggestion to reschedule their interrupted breakfast.

It would help if his heart would give up the uncomfortable fluttering
it seemed to suffer from at the thought of having another opportunity
to be alone with the captain. It was bad enough that Jon -- Captain
Archer should so far forget protocol as to arrange these private
meals, but it was unforgivable for a junior officer to become so
inappropriately agitated at the thought. He sighed as he followed the
captain across the mess hall and to the turbolift that would take them
to the bridge.

---

"It was awful, Trip." Jonathan Archer slumped in a chair in his
private mess and glanced across at his friend who occupied the chair
opposite. Both men held glasses of cold beer in their hands. "He was
terrified, I was nervous -- I did my best to put him at ease, but it
seemed the more I tried, the worse he got!"

Tucker raised an eyebrow and sipped his beer, licking the foam from
his upper lip before he replied. "I never said it was gonna be easy,
Cap'n," he grinned. "Malcolm's kinda -- different," the last
accompanied by Tucker's playful habit of letting the tip of his tongue
show for an instant at the side of his mouth.

"Are you sure he told you he likes me?" Jonathan leaned forward,
meeting his friend's eyes earnestly. "You wouldn't shit me about
something like that, would you?"

"I'm hurt!" Tucker placed a hand over his breast and grimaced in mock
agony. "How can you even think I'd do somethin' like that?"

"Because I know you *would* do something like that," Archer replied.
"Because I know you *have!*"

"Never to *you!*" Now it was Tucker's turn to lean forward and make
eye contact. "I swear, never, Jon! Not when I know how much it means
to you."

Archer nodded and lowered his eyes, gazing into his beer. "Well, if he
did say it, he must've been drunk, or delirious, or both, because --
nothing he has said or done today or recently for that matter gives me
reason to believe it."

"Aw c'mon!" Tucker set his glass down on the table and tried to meet
his friend's eyes. "You just haven't noticed it is all. *I've* seen
the way his eyes follow you around the bridge when he thinks no one's
takin' any notice. I've seen the way he watches you walk across the
mess hall headin' for your dining room. I've seen him show it in a
hundred different ways -- why d'ya think he gets so damned antsy when
he thinks you're puttin' yourself in danger?"

Archer looked into Tucker's eyes for a moment without saying anything.
Reading the sincerity there, he nodded and smiled and took another sip
of his beer.

"So -- when are ya gonna try again?"

"I don't know that I should," Archer replied. "You didn't hear him out
there on that hull, Trip; he was deadly earnest that fraternization is
inappropriate." Archer gave a snort of laughter. "He practically
recited the rule book to me!"

"Yeah, he's real good at that." Tucker turned the glass in idle
circles on the tabletop, watching the bubbles that rose through the
cold liquid. "He's also good at *bending* regulations when it suits
him."

"Aren't we all?" Archer drained the last of the beer in his glass.
"What do you think I should do?"

"Go see him, Cap'n --" Tucker said as he got to his feet. "I oughta
turn in, got a lotta work waitin' for me in the mornin'."

---

Malcolm Reed lay on the main biobed in sickbay, apparently sleeping.
As the doors slid open he opened his eyes, blinking a little hazily.
He was obviously still groggy from the painkillers Phlox had
administered. When his eyes gradually found focus, he smiled in
recognition.

"Captain," he said in a rusty, sleepy voice that sent a chill racing
down Archer's spine.

"Malcolm," Archer found a chair and pulled it closer to the biobed.
"How are you feeling?"

"I feel n'pain," Reed said with a drunken grin. "Whatever the doctor's
own recipe is,  's'bloody good."

Archer suppressed a grin at the slight slurring of the words. "Glad to
hear it." Archer eased his frame into the chair and glanced around the
sickbay a little ill at ease and unsure of what to say.

His mind went back to those tense few hours out on the hull of the
ship as he worked to disable the mine that had pinned Reed's leg to
the hull. He frowned, recalling the utter sang-froid the man had
displayed, coolly instructing him on which relays to disable. Archer
had been amazed at the ice cold focus and determination of the young
Lieutenant. Right up until the man had decided his situation was
hopeless, when he had foolishly tried to kill himself by venting the
oxygen from his EV suit.

"Sir?" Reed's drowsy voice brought him back to the present. "I just
wanted t'say sorry...m'sorry for..."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Malcolm."

Th'r'is," Reed slurred. "My behaviour was..."

"Stop!" Archer half rose from his seat. "I said you don't have to
apologize, and I meant it."

"Yessir." His eyes slid closed, and Archer thought that Reed had
drifted back to sleep.

The captain bowed his head with a sigh. He couldn't imagine that this
man had any feelings for him at all, no matter what Tucker said. He
raised his eyes to the sharp, angular face of this darkhaired enigma
that had managed over the months to work his way inside his heart and
shook his head. He just wished that he could get through that outer
shell the man seemed to wrap himself in, and see into Malcolm's heart
and mind; to know once and for all what was going on in there and if
he had any reason to hope that someday the man would open up to him
and let him know his feelings.

With another sigh, he reached out and took hold of the sleeping man's
hand, stroking his thumb across the knuckles.

Reed's eyes snapped open and he looked into Archer's eyes for an
instant before he averted his eyes.

"Sorry, I..." Archer began and made to pull his hand away.

"No!" Reed's fingers tightened around Archer's hand. "It's all right,"

Archer felt his heart lift at the small concession; he smiled and
closed his fingers around Reed's again, continuing the gentle stroking
with his thumb. "Malcolm..."

"Yes?" Those expressive but still hazy eyes turned to him.

"I...I'm glad we made it," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Reed nodded without speaking and his fingers returned the gentle
pressure.

"Am I still an l'tenant?"

The question surprised Archer and his head snapped up. "Of course you
are!" He remembered the moment when he'd threatened to bust Reed back
to Crewman and suppressed a grimace. "I was angry," he said. "I didn't
mean --"

Another small, sleepy nod. "M'tired," Reed murmured.

"You should get some sleep," Archer made to stand up but the quick
tightening of fingers on his hand stopped him.

"Stay -- please,"

Archer couldn't stop the bright smile that lit his face this time. He
sat back down. "As long as you want," he said softly.

---

The End