Author: Lady Starblade -- [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tu/R
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None, really
Archive: Entslash; Anyone else, if ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.
Feedback: Yes, please. <Bambi eyes>
Disclaimer: Oh, how I would love to own them all, but alas, I do not. Paramount owns all, and I make no money whatsoever.
Author's Note: Sequel to "Stillness." Technically third in a three part series. (But there will be an epilogue, so stay tuned.)
Summary: "There's no doubt he loves you. But I don't know if he realizes it yet."
**
He loved Trip Tucker. Malcolm knew it was a hell of a realization to have right before he died, but there it was. Maybe the proximity of death was what it took for Malcolm to admit it.
The last three days had been a hell that surpassed anything that Malcolm had endured before. Nothing, not his father's disapproval, not being pinned to a ship's hull, not being shot by various aliens could measure up to the deep, tearing pain deep inside him. Uncertainty and regret had been his constant companions, alternately pulling him in two directions. The uncertainty tortured him; the thought of Trip's fate, and the regret of his own silence.
His mind had been rifling through the memories of the past year, trying to pinpoint when he had begun to lose his heart to the blond engineer. His first impression of Trip had been cursory--gregarious, outgoing, friendly. Malcolm's opposite in almost every way, physically and personality-wise. Handsome and engaging, no doubt, but Malcolm had been fooled by those qualities in the past, and he had told himself to give this one a wide berth.
When had that started to change? Despite himself, Malcolm had found himself watching, drawn like a moth to a flame. He saw depths beneath Trip's surface; anger, resentment, self-doubt. Malcolm recognized them immediately, the qualities he harbored inside his own mind. Perhaps they weren't so different after all. Almost against his will, he found himself falling under Trip's spell. A spell Malcolm was willing to lay odds he didn't even realize he was weaving.
Malcolm let out a long breath, watching the white cloud rise and disperse as he tried to turn his thoughts from Trip. He had to concentrate, had to keep himself in the here and now, before he shredded himself internally. Shifting his attention to his situation, he began to tick off the negatives of his circumstances.
Several bolts from the alien guns had struck him. The weapons fired heat discharges that would kill one of their own, but that only singed a human. Enough of the bolts at once would no doubt still kill, but as it was, Malcolm only sustained several minor burns. The aliens were confused by his seeming invincibility to their weapons, and Malcolm had been confined back in the dimly lit prison where he had begun.
But they had figured out how to hurt him anyway; Malcolm hadn't eaten for three days, not even the damned protein concentrate they had fed to him and Trip. He was finding it difficult to retain focus. He was pretty sure that several of his burns had become infected, and they throbbed dully.
And he had recently discovered that Trip had been correct when he said the aliens could understand them. The last time one of those things had come into the cell, it had leaned over a weakened Malcolm and said, quite clearly, "Cold. Death." It had then placed a triangular-shaped hand on his chest, icy cold flooding through his body. He still hadn't recovered from that shock. The flimsy blankets had been removed, so now he was curled up against the far wall, shivering.
The door suddenly slid open, the familiar dazzle and cold streaming in. Malcolm turned to face the light, letting Trip's image form in his mind's eye. *I am so sorry I never told you.* Pulling himself as upright as he could, he was now ready for whatever was to come.
Except for what actually happened.
"Malcolm!"
Blinded by the light, he couldn't see much, but that voice--he could not mistake that voice for any other sound in the universe. Propelled by a sudden surging strength, Malcolm pushed himself up and toward the shadowy shape. Trip caught him and wrapped him in a one-armed embrace, the other hand occupied with an alien weapon. For a moment in time, Malcolm allowed himself to cling to Trip, reveling in the other man's presence.
Still trembling from the cold, Malcolm chattered, "Are you all rrright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Enterprise got a hold of me when we got out from under the shield they got on this place." Trip pulled back enough to look at Malcolm critically. "Are you okay?"
"Abbout as well as ccan be expected."
Trip's eyes took on a disbelieving cast, and his jaw clenched briefly. "Don't hold it against me if I don't believe ya."
Malcolm shook his head as he squinted over Trip's shoulder through the doorway. "Where's the rest of the rrescue team?"
In spite of the danger they were in, Trip still managed to summon a sheepish look. "Well, there really isn't a team."
"You cccame alone?!" Malcolm felt a flash of anger that Trip would risk himself so foolishly.
"Hey, it was a spur of the moment thing. Now come on, we gotta get out of here. Enterprise is waiting to transport us back up. We just gotta get back to the unshielded room." Trip began to move away, and Malcolm felt his legs waver underneath him.
Trip was instantly back at his side, free arm going around his waist. "Dammit Malcolm, what did those bastards do to ya?"
Trip supporting Malcolm, the two men made their way out of the cell and back into the hallway. Blinking rapidly against the light, Malcolm answered, "Those weapons shoot bolts of heat that kill them, but only lightly burn humans. I was hit by a good number of them." His voice had evened out as movement warmed him.
"Speakin' of burning, you look and feel like you got a fever."
"I think my burns have become infected."
"Dammit." Trip cursed again.
"My thought precisely." Malcolm saw a corner of Trip's mouth twitch upward.
A loud scrabbling behind them heralded the arrival of pursuers, as familiar green bolts struck the wall beside them. Malcolm's feet momentarily left the ground as Trip lunged around the nearest corner and broke into a run. Holding on to the other man with both hands, Malcolm concentrated on moving forward and not slowing Trip down. Trip returned some wild shots over his shoulder, and Malcolm looked up to see another group of aliens at the far end of the corridor. "Trip!"
Trip's head snapped around as Malcolm freed a hand to slap against a nearby door control panel. A door opened, and both men dove through it into a room filled with storage units. They quickly shuffled toward the back of the room and scrambled underneath one of the larger units. Sprawled on his stomach, Malcolm drew in several deep breaths of painfully cold air as Trip passed him the rifle.
"Where are we? Are we in an unshielded room?"
Trip shook his head. "I have no idea. There ain't exactly a sign."
Throwing a glance up at the door, Malcolm saw a multitude of thick, scaly legs crowding through the opening as their high-pitched chattering grew louder. They weren't going to get out that way.
"Tucker to Enterprise." Trip had his communicator out and open, but all it emitted was a dull hissing. "C'mon Enterprise." Malcolm could hear the desperation in Trip's voice, and he put a hand on the nearest shoulder. Trip closed his eyes and bowed his head at the continued static.
"Trip...." Malcolm began, squeezing Trip's shoulder to gain his attention.
In a voice rolling with emotion, Trip said, "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I'm sorry I couldn't get ya out. I...." Malcolm watched as Trip's hands balled into white-knuckled fists.
"No, Trip, no. None of this was your fault."
His only response was a bitter laugh.
"Trip, look at me." As those impossibly blue eyes met his, Malcolm let go. "I have to tell you....I need to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
The unit above their heads suddenly shifted and fell away, exposing them as a simultaneous motion of an alien foot knocked the weapon from Malcolm's hand. Trip quickly pulled Malcolm to him in a futile gesture of protection. Knowing his life now measured in seconds, Malcolm couldn't stop the words. "I love you, Trip."
"What...." Trip's voice faded away as darkness descended.
**
For a split second, Malcolm thought he would rather take his chances with the aliens. The look on Captain Archer's face was that foreboding. Then the realization that they were back on Enterprise hit, and relief flooded through him. Looking around, he saw an apprehensive Travis Mayweather at the transporter controls. Next to him, Dr. Phlox appeared evenly torn between concern and nervousness. Malcolm began to wonder just what Trip had done to come after him.
As if in response to the thought, Malcolm felt Trip move and looked back to see him casting a hopeful look at his friend. "Hi, Cap'n, finally notice I was missin'?" Malcolm winced at the flippancy of the remark. How Trip did it, he would never know.
"I'm debating whether or not to bust you and Travis down as far as I can and assign you both to scrubbing Chef's cookware for the rest of the mission. As it is, you are as lucky as hell that whatever you were hiding under moved, otherwise you might've wound up fused into it or to each other." Archer's gaze softened slightly as he shifted his eyes to Malcolm. "It's good to see you, Malcolm. Doctor?" As Archer and Phlox climbed onto the transporter platform, Malcolm held onto Trip for a moment longer, then released him. And was it wishful thinking, or was there hesitation on Trip's part as well?
Then Trip was gone, and Malcolm found himself handed into the care of a fussy Denoblean.
**
Malcolm started at the sound of the door chime. Licking his lips nervously, he called out, "Come in."
The door slid aside to admit Travis Mayweather, a shy expression on his face. Letting out the breath he had been holding, Malcolm smiled in greeting. "Good evening, Travis."
The casual tone set, Travis nodded back. "How are you feeling, Malcolm?"
Malcolm rolled his eyes with a groan. "Every person that has checked on me has asked the same question. Hoshi in particular was quite insistent. But I will give you the same answer. I'm doing much better, thank you."
"We've all been pretty worried over the past couple of weeks. You and Trip seem to get into a lot of trouble together."
At the mention of Trip, Malcolm couldn't help his sharp intake of breath. After a few seconds, he responded, "Yes, we do at that."
A silence descended, and Malcolm scurried to break it.
"I see Captain Archer didn't follow through on his threat." Travis grinned at the jibe.
"I don't think he had the heart to go through with it. He was just worried. And now he's just glad to have both of you back in one piece. But I did get a lecture that my ears are still burning from."
Malcolm nodded. "You have my sympathies. Now, how does life progress outside these walls? I've been cooped up in here for two days after being confined to Sickbay for three. I'm coming to truly understand the term 'cabin fever'."
"Getting back to normal. I hear the armory's looking forward to your triumphant return."
"I'm sure they are."
Travis's eyes narrowed at the lack of enthusiasm in Malcolm's voice. "You're upset that Trip hasn't come by, aren't you?" The question came as a surprise, and its accuracy provoked a sharp response.
"What makes you say that?" Malcolm couldn't help the acid bite in his tone.
"Malcolm, he loves you." Travis's words felt like a slap, and Malcolm could only stare speechlessly at the helmsman. Travis quirked a slight smile at his reaction. "His determination to save you, the look in his eyes when he begged me to help him...." He shook his head. "There's no doubt he loves you. But I don't know if he realizes it yet."
Malcolm opened his mouth, but no words came forward. He settled for dropping his gaze, hoping his inner turmoil didn't show.
"I better go." Travis went back to the door and pressed the control. Halfway through, he stopped and added a parting comment. "Are you going to mope or help him realize it?"
The door closed, leaving Malcolm alone with questions and realizations.
END