Summary: Reed walks the line between love and duty.

Spoilers: "The Xindi", Season Three

Comments:
Author's notes: This is a response to SueC's 2004/01/14 challenge including the
theme of Malcolm choosing his partner over duty and facing the consequences.
I'd like to try an experiment by suggesting music that might create some moods
for this piece. Anyone with access to the Tori Amos/Sarah Maclaclan/Indigo
Girls' "Drive", or Nine Inch Nails' "Closer to God" works for the first half of
the story, and Tori Amos' Gold Dust or Winter for the second part. Or if that
fails, just slap on a recording of Mahler's 9th symphony. On to the story.




   The crowded street pressed in on Lieutenant Reed as he pushed his way
through the busy market, the combination of the sweltering humidity and the
strange alien scents making it difficult to focus. Sweat ran down his forehead
and stained his shirt, and he was profoundly grateful that the Captain had
ordered civilian clothes on the away mission, his starfleet uniform having far too
many layers for the tropical climate of the alien city. The glaring hot yellow sun
was promising to set in a few hours, but the small white dwarf still blazed high
in the sky, and Malcolm dearly hoped to be recalled back to the ship, or find an
air-conditioned environment.

   His mission was not entirely critical; the Enterprise had been in orbit around
the Minshara planet for a few days, and Archer was working with Mal Fojete, a
representative from the Norahen government, hoping to find a new lead in the
search for the Xindi homeworld. Reed's security protocols and concerns in
place, Archer had suggested he and Tucker come down to the planet, which Mal
Fojete had claimed was exceedingly beautiful, and have a look around for
anything interesting.

   When he and Tucker had entered the shuttlepod together, along with Hoshi
and Dr. Phlox, they'd shared a brief glance of apprehension, the now running
joke that whenever they got into a pod together, disaster would surely follow.
And the strange new understanding between them, currently a peaceable one,
somehow made them a little tentative around each other, knowing how easily
they could disrupt the peace by an off-hand comment.

   Dr. Phlox and Hoshi had left hours ago, and Tucker had been distracted by
one of the Norahen hovering vehicles, drooling over it like it was a 2004 BMW
Z4, apparently his favourite car. Not wanting to talk mechanics yet not wanting
to pull the engineer away, Reed suggested he continue looking around and that
they meet later at a small bar they'd passed not long ago.

   The benign alien crowds, dressed in vibrant summer colours, and the smell of
rich and strange spices reminded Malcolm of the summer he'd spent in Jamaica
after his first year in the space programme after he'd quit the Navy. Not able to
go home without facing his father's silent wrath, he chose to spend it with...what
was her name? It didn't matter. What he did remember were the lazy days and
the wild nights he'd spent while bartending to get by. They'd slept on the beach
for most of that summer, and it was one of the few times he'd felt almost at
peace. Of course by the end of three months he'd had just about enough of the
careless lifestyle...and what's her name.

   But there was something in the air here on the Norahen homeworld, that
reminded him of those days and nights, and the wild virility with which he'd
lived. Perhaps it was the copious amounts of sun which had burned away his
admittedly dour reserved-brit personality.

   His eyes surveyed the crowd and the strange merchandise of the market. The
Norahen were smooth, dark-skinned aliens, almost hairless and pleasantly
exotic. Malcolm subtly eyed some of the women, considering that at another
time he might have been in the mood to pursue them out curiosity, and
considering his new discoveries about sexuality, he allowed himself to examine a
few of the men as well. It was largely academic anyway, his interest had become
quite focused, and though it was new and difficult, no one held his interest the
way Trip did.

   Amongst the crowds of Norahen there were various other species of aliens
intermingling, the culture being very open and extroverted to new peoples.
Malcolm kept his eyes open, memorizing the look of the various species he past,
never knowing when or how the information would be useful, but certain that it
would be. It was exactly that reason that he spotted the Xindi primate male,
dressed in the local fashion, moving through the crowd. Adrenaline burst into
his veins as Reed's security training took over. Carefully he slipped through the
crowd, trying to get closer without intersecting the Xindi's path; he didn't want
him to know there were humans here.

   The Xindi man continued walking, heading into the thickest concentration of
people on the street. The merchant stalls narrowed, and Malcolm was forced to
push through the crowd, going against the flow trying to follow his target. The
press of the crowd was relentless, though the people were good humored as he
struggled past them, and he nearly stepped on two young Norahen children
before a wizened elderly woman pulled them back into a stall filled with large
barrels of what looked like nuts. Smiling politely at her, but quickly moving on,
he finally cleared the bottle-neck, only to realize he couldn't see the Xindi
anymore.

   Cursing, he continued to try to find the man, but he quickly realized his
attempts would be fruitless, there were far too many people and too many
directions to go for him to find him again. He was about to call up to the
Enterprise to report the sighting when he heard Trip's voice calling him. He
turned, seeing the tall man bearing down on him, a crooked grin on his face, so
unconsciously sexy that Malcolm was momentarily unhinged.

   "Commander, I--"he was interrupted as the man grabbed his shoulders firmly
and kissed him, the man's lips wet and insistent. Malcolm was stunned and
embarrassed, and surprised that Tucker would feel so at ease in the midst of the
crowd to display affection, considering how tentative they were about their
fledgling relationship on board the Enterprise. When Trip released him, he was
left speechless.

   "You wouldn't believe what I found," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

   "What brought that on?" Malcolm asked, just catching up.

   "Apparently the Norahen are damn open when it comes to sexuality," the
man explained, sensing that Reed was taken aback by his amorous mood. He'd
wanted to try it out, be open to the fact that he was really attracted to the man,
and to be free to display it. Still, Malcolm wasn't putting on the brakes yet, so he
decided to play it out. "I found a place, like a spa, where apparently the
Norahen go for...well, you know."

   Malcolm was grateful that he wasn't a blusher, though he did lower his eyes as
he adjusted to the idea, "What are you saying?"

   "Well...ah, the proprietor offered a room to me," Trip said delicately.

   "What, how the hell did that happen?"

   "I was asking him about the culture, and he told me about his place, then
offered a room."

   "And how on Earth do you intend to pay for it?" Malcolm asked suspiciously.

   "Already taken care of," Trip answered ambiguously, then decided to
elaborate and Malcolm's expectant glare, "Fine, he was curious about human
sexuality, so I explained how...well...it worked."

   "So you traded a room at a sex motel by explaining what you want to do in
it?" Reed stated indignantly.

   Trip grinned mischievously, "Not exactly, I described heterosexual sex...I
wanted to keep the alternative for ourselves."

   "Until the hidden sensors record the hole thing," Malcolm replied
pessimistically, though truthfully he was rather amused and gratified that Trip
was taking the unusual initiative.

   "Oh, just come on," Tucker said impatiently, grabbing his arm and dragging
him into the crowd, "just have a look. Think of it as cultural exploration."

   The spa turned out to be a rather pleasantly decorated complex rather like a
two story villa surrounding a lush garden with a small manicured stream flowing
through the middle. Despite the vibrant city outside, the inner courtyard was
shielded from the loud noise of traffic and people; a serene haven with
pleasantly scented flowers and shading trees. A few Norahen, clad in flowing
translucent white linens lounged around a central pool, a pair swimming
shamelessly naked, the whole scene suggesting an ancient roman bath. Malcolm
glanced around curiously, but noted Trip kept his eyes carefully averted, and
suddenly the image of the man trying to explain human sexuality to an alien
became quite amusing. Trip, unlike Malcolm, could turn the most unusual
shades of red when embarrassed.

   "I'll be right back," Tucker said, slipping away towards the entrance. Malcolm
waited, looking around and marveling that he was even considering doing what
they were about to do. He really should contact the Enterprise about the Xindi,
but he knew what the Captain's response would be; flooding the streets with
humans which would likely just drive the Xindi underground. Besides, the
government should have records of any Xindi on the planet.

   Reed's eyes studied the pale yellow stone architecture of the building, and his
eyes were drawn to the cylindrical dome of reflective glass that ran the length of
the square complex on the top floor. He wondered if there were rooms up there.

   "That's where we're going," Trip confirmed, reappearing, "come on, I think
it's this way."

   Malcolm followed the taller man, his mood allowing him to let his eyes drift
over the arch of Tucker's muscular back and the shape of his legs and buttocks
through the soft white linen trousers which flowed easily with the man's
confident stride. Thinking of Trip in this light was such a new concept, and the
adventure of that discovery had such an addictive thrill, that their encounters
had maintained the explosive intensity of their first time together.

   A lift took them to a softly carpeted corridor on the top floor, the roof over
head a transparent glass open to the rich cobalt blue sky, but the
air-conditioning was a pleasant relief to the heavy heat outside. Tucker found a
door labeled with a spidery symbol, likely a number, which matched the one on
his magnetic key, the door sliding silently open at its touch.

   The room inside was a rather large chamber whose first obvious feature was
the large arch of unbroken glass that curved down from high over head to the far
side of the room nearly twenty meters away. The room was full of lush plants,
their green leaves and colourful blooms hanging over soft white carpeting. There
were couches and benches everywhere, varying in sizes and shapes, a few large
enough for several people to lie on comfortably, and a small pool in the center,
the water spinning slowly and the sounds of a trickling stream drifted from one
corner where a small fountain of sculpted nude Nerahen played carelessly in the
water.

   "Tasteful," Malcolm said, surprised, "though a bit floral."

   "The guy did say a jungle paradise," Trip admitted, grinning.

   Malcolm moved into the room, drawing out his scanner and began looking for
hidden recording devices. After his second sweep of the room, he was satisfied
that if there were any, they were so cleverly hidden that it was likely whatever
method they used observe would be illegal enough to warrant discretion on the
part of this proprietor. Malcolm found several braziers burning a subtle incense
at a very low heat, the scent an intoxicating blend of spices which, when he
inhaled deeply, seemed to send his blood rushing through his veins, and he
suddenly noticed Trip's absence from the room with a hint of longing.

   Strong arms slipped under his own from behind and, after the initial shock, he
was impressed by Trip's silent approach. He felt the hot breath before the lips
caressed his neck, and he unconsciously relaxed against the man's body.

   "You're sticky," Trip mumbled prosaically, "So, Reed, are you satisfied?"

   Reed assumed he meant the security scans, "I suppose so..." his voice trailing
off as Trip kissed his earlobe wetly, the man's hands sliding down Reed's torso,
slipping beneath the loose shirt. He pondered academically whether it was the
exotic local or something in the air that made his body respond immediately.

   "Whatever this planet has done to you, I like it," Reed admitted softly as
Tucker's lips roamed over his damp neck, then nuzzled his cheek, entreating
Malcolm to angle his neck, catching his lips in a slow kiss. The gentle touch of
Trips mouth was arousing, but Malcolm wanted to feel his need, and he
deepened the kiss, his tongue drawing him out. Trip responded immediately as if
waiting for the cue, and his hands pushed Malcolm's shirt up, his arms gripping
him in a tight embrace, pulling their bodies together firmly. Feeling the heat of
Trip's erection against his back thrilled Malcolm, already aching to feel the
man's bare skin against his own. He resisted the urge to starting ripping off
clothes; this wasn't one of their quick furtive encounters, but a full blown
seduction, and if he thought about the gesture too much, he was certain he'd let
Tucker do with him whatever he wished.

   Still, the smell and the taste of him was already inundating Malcolm, and he
twisted in Trip's embrace to face him, needing to feel his hands on the smooth
flesh, but Trip was already pulling Malcolm's shirt over his head. They were
forced to part for a moment, Malcolm inexplicably caught up in the soft fabric in
his desperation to get out. Trip neglected to help, and once free found him
grinning like a school boy at a practical joke. Malcolm threw the shirt at him,
then decided to play coy, backing away, and turning to wander around the large
room.

   "Where're you going?" the engineer demanded.

   "I'm just considering..." he answered vaguely, subtly straightening his trousers
for freedom of movement.

   "What?" Trip sounded exasperated, and Malcolm hid his grin by feigning
interest in an exotic flower.

   "Well...where do you want me?" he asked, gesturing at the various little
alcoves.

   Trip set his jaw in that characteristic way when he thought he was being
smart, and Malcolm almost let go of the thin shard of control maintaining his
aloof guise, "You know, I don't really care," Trip said, casually pulling his shirt
over his head, revealing his athletic chest, the soft blond hair distracting
Malcolm momentarily.

   "Liar, you wouldn't have brought me here otherwise," Reed reasoned, turning
away from him, "There's that huge bed over there, but then we've done beds
before. Still there would be more room to maneuver--"

   "Malcolm," he heard the man growl, but ignored him.

   "Or in the pool, not something we'll be able to do for a long time, or up
against that glass with all those people down there...I know you can only see
out, but still--" Again he was seized from behind, but this time Trip spun him,
his mouth closing on Malcolm's almost brutally in his desire. Their skin met
across their torsos, still slick from the outside humidity. Malcolm was able to
run his hands over the man's body as he'd wanted, but Trip was in control this
time, his hands and mouth moving across Reed's skin with an inevitability born
of hunger.

   In the end it truly didn't matter, despite the frenzy of their passion; they took
the time to explore the various amenities of the room, their clothes strewn as a
testament to their progress. Not only was it an exploration of the location, but
an exploration of their sensuality, discovering that the fact that they were both
men mattered little to their creativity, and the sight of Trip naked beneath him,
above him, between his legs, invoked in Malcolm an affirmation that the
swelling feeling within him, the warm exhilarating sensation, might be more than
just lust, more than need, but containing both within it. Realizing what it might
mean, he finally turned the tables on Trip, pushing him against the glass
overlooking the busy city below, and gave to him what he could, a seemingly
limitless fount of desire and love given expression in sex.

   Trip's hands clenched spasmodically in Malcolm's hair, "That's so...yes,
don't...just like that...," Trip whispered, knowing he had no real control over
what the man was doing to him, but he was so close and he just had
to--"Malcolm...I can't hold..." his voice rising, "...Jesus Christ..." his breath
catching in his lungs, "...oh, God," he shouted as his climax overtook him, his
body shaking and eyes closed, lost in ecstasy.

   There was long moment where Trip couldn't speak, maintaining his link with
Malcolm through his hands, his touch. When he finally did open his eyes, he saw
the man grinning at him, amused.

   "I thought you didn't believe in that stuff," he said wryly.

   "What?" Trip asked, then remembered, "Oh God, Malcolm, you of all people
should know you never listen to a man when he's...you know."

   "You can't even say it," Reed laughed, always entertained by Trip's
prudishness, especially since it made himself seem less so.

   "Malcolm, d'you wanna talk, or d'you want me to take care of you," he asked
archly, but Malcolm had already stood, pressing against Trip's body, the man's
mouth insistently bruising his lips, indicating his answer.

   They had been lounging in the pool, very similar to a whirlpool, when both
their communicators beeped insistently. Cursing, Trip stumbled out, dripping all
over the floor as he struggled to find the devices. Discovering it in a heap of his
pants, he pulled it out, flipping it open while Malcolm watched him in
amusement.

   <Enterprise to Tucker and Reed,> came the Captain's voice, instantly
indicating some urgency, as Hoshi would normally be the one to contact them
with any regular news or commands.

   "Tucker here," he replied.

   <Is Lieutenant Reed with you?" Archer asked, and Trip unconsciously
blushed, even though it wasn't likely they were being spied on.

   "Aye sir, what's up?"

   <I'd like you to collect the away team and return to the Enterprise,> he said,
though his voice evinced no extreme urgency, <we have a potential lead about
the Xindi, but I want you up here to discuss it.>

   Trip glanced at Malcolm, his expression reluctant. He was glad they'd had the
chance to spend time alone together, but it still didn't seem like enough, the
Xindi issue occupying virtually every moment of every day, especially for him,
the death of his sister weighing heavily on his thoughts. It seemed impossible
that he would never see her or her family again, the finality of death too abstract
for him to deal with.

   While Tucker's thoughts centered on his own difficulties, he failed to notice
Reed's face pale at the mention of the Xindi. The Lieutenant knew he should
have reported the sighting of the man earlier, but Trip's enthusiasm had been
such a pleasantly surprising distraction, he'd actually managed to forget the
encounter.

   Trip had returned his attention to the Captain's orders, "Aye sir, we'll be up
within the hour. Tucker out," he turned to Reed, who had already risen from the
pool, rivulets of water streaming down his naked form. The man was so
physically commanding, despite his size, his musculature honed for action, his
form so completely male that there was no mistaking the nature of Trip's
attraction to him. In fact, Reed could be so stubbornly protective of his
emotions, so reserved that Tucker had doubted he would go for this little
diversion, but after his initial concerns had been set aside, Malcolm had
surprised Trip by the fervor of his response. It was becoming increasingly
difficult for Tucker to hide his feelings for the man, even on the Enterprise In
two quick strides, he'd closed the distance between them, interrupting the
Reed's attempt to towel off by drawing him close and kissing him, but Malcolm
was reticent, gently pulling away, leaving Trip feeling empty.

   "We should get going," Reed said, finding his briefs and pulling them on.

   Tucker agreed, though the Captain hadn't sounded that urgent. As they
dressed, Reed signaled Hoshi and Phlox, explaining Archer's orders to return to
the shuttlepod. Before leaving, Trip spoke with the owner of the resort,
thanking him shyly, unused to others knowing what he and Malcolm got up to.
The alien, grinningly broadly the whole time, gave two packages as gifts for Trip
and his partner, not letting Trip refuse them. It turned out they were small
wedges of the intoxicating incense that had been burning in the room when
they'd arrived. Malcolm accepted the gift when Trip gave it to him reluctantly,
but sniffed it and smiled slightly.

   It took a few minutes to make their way to the transport that took them to
the landing site, the crowds still thick in the early evening as the yellow sun set.
Phlox and Hoshi were waiting for them by the shuttlepod, Ensign Hutchinson
having already gone through the pre-launch sequence. The journey through the
atmosphere was uneventful, the shuttlepod cabin filled with excited
conversation about the various discoveries in the hospitable city, but Tucker
couldn't help but notice Reed's distant attitude, occasionally throwing him a grin
which was returned by what he'd come to identify as the Malcolm grimace; a
vague smile that indicated he was either just being polite, or far away in his own
thoughts.

   Something was up, or maybe even wrong. Thinking back, he knew Malcolm
had started withdrawing back at the resort. Had he been disturbed by the
experience, the open admission that they were becoming more to each other
than friends and sex partners? Was he freaked out by the homosexual
relationship, or the sex? Trip discounted them as explanations, it had been Reed
who first admitted his continuing attraction to Tucker. It had been Reed who'd
slept with another man...or, well, Vulcan. While he maintained a conservative
exterior, Reed had come to accept the new aspect to his sexuality before Trip
had. As he thought on it more, he realized everything had been fine between
them until Archer had contacted them on the planet, calling them back. Perhaps
Malcolm was withdrawing to recreate the masquerade that they were simply
friends on the Enterprise, one that they hadn't spoke of, but had both agreed
was necessary until they figured out what was going on. Or maybe he regretted
that he had to hide their relationship at all.

   Whatever it was, Tucker was forced to leave it until later when they reached
the conference room where they'd been informed Captain Archer was still
meeting with Mal Fojete, and had requested his and Reed's presence. When they
entered, Archer and Fojete were examining a database list on the display panel.

   "Welcome back," Archer said politely, though he was clearly distracted, "did
you enjoy yourselves?"

   Tucker glanced briefly at Malcolm who didn't react, "I certainly did," Trip
said.

   "Yes, sir," Malcolm said formally.

   "I'm pleased," Mal Fojete said pleasantly, "we enjoy the opportunity to share
our world with interesting guests, such as yourselves." Archer changed the
subject, getting to his reason for cutting the away mission short, "Mal Fojete has
generously given us some recent intelligence on a Xindi physicist, called
Medan'Tar who he believes had been working on the Xindi weapon."

   "Our operatives only recently traced him to our planet," Fojete offered, his
jovial nature transformed to a sober focus, "unfortunately he has been hiding
underground, and we have not yet located him." The news had a sharp impact
on Trip; to have someone actually working on that weapon, someone
responsible for the holocaust on Earth so near inspired both hope and rage in
him. Tucker was about to ask what they were going to do, but Malcolm spoke
up.

   "Excuse me Mal Fojete, but may I ask how you know about the Xindi
weapon?"

   "Certainly. Our intelligence operatives became aware of a weapon being built
by the Xindi when this physicist offered to sell some of the technology
developed for it to a...shall we say...questionable faction," he turned to Archer,
offering an explanation, "The expanse as you call it is a dangerous place, and it
has been necessary to monitor the technological development of several races
out of self-protection. Incidentally," he added, "the Xindi discovered
Medan'Tar's illicit dealings, forcing him to go into hiding, apparently on our
planet."

   "Do you have an image of this Xindi?" Malcolm asked, surprising Trip by the
lifelessness in his voice.

   "We do," Fojete replied, keying a command into the view console, an image
of a Xindi Primate male appeared on the screen. Seeing the face of someone
who'd help to kill his sister seemed to freeze Tucker's insides, his hate becoming
an icy rage focused on the physicist. And he was so close.

   "Captain," Reed said, his voice monotone, "I saw this Xindi on the planet."
All eyes turned to him in surprise, Archer opening his mouth to speak, but
Malcolm continued, "I followed him in the market, but lost him in the crowd.
He was alone, and did not see me."

   "Why didn't you report this?" Archer demanded.

   "I was...distracted," Reed admitted, his eyes lowered in shame.

   "Distracted by what?"

   "By me, sir," Tucker said, his voice cold.

   Reed glanced at him, shocked by the admission, his mind reeling as he
struggled to think of a way out of this.

   "Distracted by you?" Archer said to Tucker, confused.

   "Sir," Reed said, drawing the Captain's attention, "The Commander was
fascinated by the Norahen's hovering vehicles, and I didn't have the chance to
tell him about it until later, by which time I'd forgotten until you contacted us."

   "You forgot?" Archer said quietly, clearly containing his surprise and anger
for Mal Fojete's benefit.

   "Not entirely, sir, but I knew there was little we could do about it until I
reported to you," Malcolm said truthfully, "We couldn't conduct a search
without the permission of the Norahen government, and there was no way for us
to track him."

   Archer was silent, and Mal Fojete spoke, "I thank you for your consideration
of our privacy laws, Lieutenant. This is indeed useful information, as now we
have a confirmed sighting of Medan'Tar and can narrow our search perimeter.
Captain, I'd like to contact my government to give them this new information."
Archer studied Reed for a moment, but was clearly relieved that Fojete was not
upset by the situation, "Of course, Mal Fojete. If you don't mind, I'll ask
Sub-Commander T'Pol to escort you to your shuttle. I'd like to speak with my
officers about this."

   "I understand completely, Captain," Mal Fojete replied politely. Archer
engaged the comm., asking the T'Pol to join them in the conference room.

   "Mal Fojete," Archer said, once T'Pol appeared, "I'd like to extend any aid
you might in finding Medan'Tar to your government."

   "Thank you Captain," the Norahen replied, "I will be in touch shortly," he
turned and T'Pol escorted him from the room, "Tell me Sub-Commander, what
is it like for a Vulcan to serve on a human ship--" the rest of the conversation
was lost as the conference door slid shut.

   Archer turned to Reed immediately, "I want to know what happened down
there."

   "Just over three hours ago, I saw Medan'Tar in the market. He was dressed in
local clothes, trying to blend in, and I followed him until I lost him in the
crowd," Reed repeated, not daring to glance over at Tucker, fearing the facial
expression he knew was there.

   "And you neglected to tell Commander Tucker because he was interested in
cars?" Archer demanded.

   "Well sir, you did send us down to investigate the planet, and I expected that
any Xindi here would have been registered with the government just as we had
been," Reed explained, "Captain, I know I should have reported it immediately,
but it didn't seem so pressing at the time.

   Archer gazed at him, his expression neutral, "How do you feel about this?" he
asked Tucker. Malcolm kept his eyes on the Captain.

   There was a pause, then Trip spoke, the dull tones of his voice confirming
what Reed knew already, "Well, normally I'd trust Lieutenant Reeds judgment,"
he said stiffly.

   Archer nodded, looking out the conference room window at the planet below,

   "Thank you Commander. I'd like a report on the Norahen from your
perspective."

   "Aye, sir."

   "Would you excuse the Lieutenant and I, Commander, I'd like to speak with
him alone," Archer said.

   "Aye, sir," Tucker replied, and Malcolm did chance a glance at him, seeing
the stiff set of his jaw, his blue eyes coldly focused ahead of him, seeing nothing.
He turned sharply, striding from the room without looking back, and Malcolm
new that it was over. He'd lost Trip by the mistake he'd made; a Xindi directly
responsible for Tucker's sister's death was still free, not just because Malcolm
had let him get away, but because Trip had, in fact, distracted Reed from his
duty. It was not the error in itself that was the cause, but that Trip had
momentarily forgotten why they were here in the expanse, and had actually
enjoyed himself, perhaps had even been happy. Allowing his involvement with
Malcolm to partially interfere with their primary mission meant that Tucker
couldn't allow it to happen again, and this time the lesson was that until his
sister was avenged he could never be open anything else again.

   Silently, his insides physically numb from loss, he turned to face the Captain.

   The reprimand, when it came, had been relatively mild, considering what was
at stake. Archer had stated his disappointment in Reed's error in judgment, and
though he understood that Malcolm had been under an inordinate amount of
stress over the past two months, he'd expected more from the Lieutenant. The
Captain then went on to say that he needed Reed to be focused, in command,
and operating as best he could, as Archer claimed to rely on his foresight and
intelligence while they were essentially traversing a war zone.

   Reed had been properly contrite, and he'd honestly felt it, but for once the
true consequence of his actions did not affect his career, or even his relationship
with his Captain. As he entered his quarters, he dreaded what he knew awaited
him, and it was there, the small flag on his console that indicated there was a
message waiting. Malcolm set the small package of incense Trip had given him
planetside, knowing there wouldn't be much use for it in the future. He slid into
his chair, hesitating for a long moment before opening the icon. A text message
box appeared, Charles Tucker written at the top of the screen. Malcolm waited
patiently.

   <You there?> the text appeared character by character on the screen.

   He raised his hands to the keyboard, typing, <Yeah.>

   There was a long pause, <Malcolm, we need to talk.>

   <I know. I'm sorry.>

   <It's not really your fault.>

   <It's not yours either.>

   <I know...>

   Malcolm forced himself to wait, desperately wanting to call Trip, or go to his
quarters, tell him...what? That a few hours wouldn't really matter that much.
That the physicist would be caught. That Trip deserved a chance at happiness,
even with his sister gone. That Malcolm needed him...that he was in love.
Instead he waited.

   <I can't do this, Malcolm. Not right now.>

   The words were a blow, despite the fact that he'd expected them, but he
didn't miss a beat in his response, Trip's welfare more important now than his
own, <I know. I understand.>

   <I'm just no good right now...everything is so messed up.>

   <I know.>

   <I need to figure out how I'm going to deal with this, and I need to do it
alone.>

   <I know.>

   <Malcolm, I'm sorry.>

   <Don't be.>

   <I'm sorry, Malcolm. Goodnight.>

   <Good night,> Reed pressed enter, imagining the final text drifting gently off
into the dark of his screen. He didn't close the window, just staring at the legacy
of the conversation written in electronic characters, devoid of emotion or
expression. He sat frozen, unable to execute the decision to move, unable to
visualize himself standing up, preparing for bed, waking up the next morning.
How had this happened? When had it happened? When had his friend become
critical to his ability to move forward in time? His eyes burned, drying, but he
couldn't even make himself blink.

   <Are you still there?> came the text, unexpected, unimaginable balm to the
debilitating ache, but not curing it.

   <Yeah.> It was the last thing they said to each other that night, each man
staring blankly at their screen, each unable to sever the link as if that alone
would make it true, but unable to bridge the gap between them. Trip eventually
lay down in his bed, gazing at the computer screen. Malcolm fell asleep in his
chair.