An Unexpected Attraction - Part 12
See Part 1 for heading/disclaimer information.
*Trip*
Those
raiders had snuck up on us so quickly and hit us hard enough with those energy
weapons of theirs that we were close to sitting ducks for awhile there. My
engineering crew worked their usual miracles and we got the warp engine back on
line right in the nick of time, or so the captain told me.
And
Malcolm, once those alien boarding parties blasted their way on-board, he was
just in his element. I hadn't realized he'd already been modifying his force
field with those new Lev shield specs, hell we only got a hold of them a little
while ago. Worked like a charm though, from what I hear. These aliens
apparently couldn't breath our air, so they were all wearing something like
respirator helmets. Pretty gruesome way to die. I'm actually kinda glad I
didn't have to see it. Only sticking point was Malcolm getting hurt like
that. Important safety point, I suppose, not to fire energy weapons through a
force field. I'm sure Malcolm is already planning to put that in his technical
manual. Once he gets out of sickbay.
Damn it.
Phlox told us Malcolm nearly died. He pulled a piece of shrapnel out of
Malcolm's chest that missed his heart by centimeters. And his right arm was
nearly severed above the elbow. It's so difficult seeing him lying in that
bio-bed, more of him covered in bandages than not. He looks so fragile. I
can't believe I almost lost him. Before I really had him. Before he knew how
much I wanted him. Loved him. I sat there beside him watching him sleep. I
was feeling so many things, and there just wasn't room inside me for it all. I
felt some of it sneak out and flow down my cheeks.
I was so
lost in my communion with my wounded love that Phlox startled me with his quiet
voice.
"He
*will* recover, Commander. But it may be a long, slow process. Particularly
in regards to his arm. There was significant damage, and I can only do so
much. I won't lie to you, Commander, Mr. Reed will have some hard and painful
work ahead of him to regain useful function of his arm. And he will need
assistance." Phlox watched me benignly as his words sunk in. I lifted
horrified eyes to him as a thought came to me.
"You
said useful function. He *will* be able to use it just like before this
happened, won't he?" Malcolm's right arm. The one he used for
everything, from firing his beloved weapons to making me howl in ecstasy. I
can't picture Malcolm any other way. My eyes pleaded silently with Phlox for
reassurance. But the doctor lowered his gaze from mine. I caught my breath in
dismay.
"Doc...?"
I begged.
"I
can't make guarantees, Commander. He will be able to use it, how well could
depend entirely upon him."
"You
mean, like, physical therapy? Like when that mine skewered his leg?"
"Exactly.
Although we did have assistance healing that particular injury that is not
available now." Phlox said, referring to the alien repair station we'd
ended up destroying in our hurry to leave.
"But..."
I started again, and Phlox cut me off.
"Your
lieutenant will get out of his therapy what he puts into it, Commander. Such
things generally require the assistance of a second party. Mr. Reed will
undoubtedly be most uncooperative and disagreeable about the whole process.
Are you up to the task?" he asked pointedly.
"Absolutely,"
I told him without hesitation.
"Good.
And now that that is settled, Commander, I suggest you return to your quarters
and get some rest. It is rather late." Phlox was both conciliatory and
dismissive in the same breath. He waited until I headed for the door to return
to whatever task I'd distracted him from.
"I'll
come by and see how he's doing in the morning, Doc," I promised.
"I had
no doubt that you would, Commander. Good night."
I walked
slowly back to my empty quarters, lost in thought. I didn't remember getting
ready for bed, but the next morning I woke to my alarm as usual. I rushed
through my shower and was soon on my way back to sickbay and Malcolm. This
time he seemed more alert and was even partially sitting up, although he did
still resemble some medical student's bandage lesson gone bad.
"Hey,
Malcolm," I said softly, "how are you doing? Besides fine, I
mean," I joked as he opened his mouth to speak. He gave me a look and
didn't say anything for a moment. I waited.
"Better,"
he said finally. Okay, a different version of fine. I'd take it.
"You
look a whole lot better." I felt nervous for some reason I couldn't pin
down.
"I can
imagine." His voice sounded too flat.
"Malcolm,
I ..." He cut me off.
"Look,
Commander, perhaps this is all for the best. This bit with my arm, well,
Enterprise doesn't need a cripple for a security chief. And you needn't feel
personally obligated to me in any way. I daresay the captain will be
requesting a replacement for me shortly, in any event."
As
Malcolm's sad little speech trailed off, I gaped at him in astonishment. Did
he really just call me 'Commander', like I was no one to him?
"Malcolm!
What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped. "The cap'n ain't
sending you nowhere. You're gonna be just fine." Phlox appeared beside
me. "Tell 'im Phlox, he's gonna be good as new."
"Commander,
I think my patient needs to rest now."
I stared
angrily into the Denobulan's bird-bright blue eyes and was opening my mouth to
protest when Malcolm spoke up again.
"Yes,
please, I'm very tired. Just go, Commander, please." Malcolm allowed his
head to drop back onto the bed and turned his face away from me. I scrubbed my
hand over my face in frustration.
"But..."
"I
believe visiting hours are over for now, Commander," Phlox said
sympathetically.
Malcolm
wouldn't look at me and when I went to open my mouth again, Phlox gave a
warning look and a slight negative head shake.
"Perhaps
if you let Mr. Reed get some rest, Commander. He'll be more agreeable
later," Phlox said. As I turned to leave, tail between my legs like a
whipped dog, Phlox leaned toward me, and in a voice for my ears only, said,
"later." Confused, I nodded and left. I didn't think I could
stomach breakfast right then, so I went directly to Engineering. It was
shaping up to be a long day.
Malcolm
wouldn't see me at lunch either, and by the time my shift was finished, I'd
worked up quite a head of steam and was determined to pound some sense into his
obstinate British head. I was storming down the corridor toward sickbay when
an obstacle in my path made me pause.
"Travis?"
"Do
you have a minute, sir?" he asked tentatively. I frowned.
"I'm
kinda busy right now," I said, starting to go around him. He stepped
sideways in front of me again. I looked at him in frustration.
"I
know that, sir. But please, don't go in there angry." I stared at him.
"He's hurting, sir, and not just from the injuries. You know what a
perfectionist he is. He's not at his best right now," Travis warned.
"That's
for damned sure," I told him. "He all but threw me out this
morning. Actually called me 'Commander', like he didn't know me at all,"
I went on bitterly. That had hurt.
"Pardon
me for saying so, sir, but he's angry enough at himself right now. He doesn't
need yours too."
My jaw
dropped as Travis' point hit me hard, right between the eyes. I realized I
*had* been going to dump my frustration on Malcolm. For getting hurt, and for
making me hurt. I smiled at Travis in amazement.
"Damn
Travis, how'd you get so smart so young?"
"I'm a
boomer, sir. Comes with the territory," he told me, obviously relieved I
wasn't going to bust on him.
"You'll
be one hell of a captain some day, Ensign," I told him sincerely. Travis
smiled wider.
"From
your lips, sir."
***
*Malcolm*
I'd had a
steady stream of visitors all day long, all wearing wide smiles and intent on
cheering me up. I didn't want to be cheered. The one face I wanted to see
didn't appear. Not since I'd told him to go, being deliberately hurtful and
dismissive. And he'd gone. Almost too quickly. I hadn't realized until he
*was* gone, just how much I'd wanted him to stay. That made me feel weak, and
I was already weak enough.
Doctor
Phlox was carefully optimistic about my recovery, but I could see the slight
concern in his manner and in the manner of all my various visitors, which made
me wonder just how complete my recovery was actually going to be. What if I
didn't regain the use of my arm? A one-armed security chief was a liability,
the captain would have to find a replacement. Might already be looking for one,
despite his fine speech about my being back on duty in no time. And what would
become of me? I'd known this mission would be dangerous, but somehow I'd
always thought that if something went wrong, I'd end up dead, not crippled and
useless. And alone.
There was
no way Trip would give up this mission, to accompany me back to a life of
disability back on Earth. And there was no way I'd ever ask him to. Given the
ease with which I'd chased him off this morning, he would probably be glad to
have me gone. I was angry, at myself for loving him and at him for not loving
me back. I began to feel foolish for hoping that Trip would want something
more than the sexual relationship we'd started. And judging by his words at
dinner the other night and the haste with which he'd departed this morning,
perhaps he was regretting that as well. I felt myself sinking into the depths
of self-pity, already mourning the loss of my lover as well as my arm. I
couldn't tell which loss hurt worse. I was so caught up in myself I didn't
hear the soft hiss of the sickbay doors.
I became
aware that someone was standing beside my bed, but I decided it was Phlox and
stubbornly kept my eyes shut, feigning sleep. Until I felt a gentle hand on my
forehead, smoothing back my hair. My eyes sprang open so quickly I shocked my
benefactor.
Trip leaned
over me, braced on the side of the bio-bed, a soft, sort of goofy-looking smile
on his face. He smoothed his hand over my forehead again, then let the back of
it continue down my cheek. I had to resist the urge to nuzzle it.
"Hey,"
he said softly. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Trip apparently didn't
have that problem.
"I
missed seeing you around today," he continued in the same intimate tone.
"I guess I never realized before how often our paths cross."
"Hmmm...,"
was my intelligent contribution to the conversation.
"I
know you're in a bad way, Malcolm. I'm right here beside you. Please don't
push me away again."
He
straightened up and shuffled about awkwardly for a bit, apparently unsure how
to continue. He began to straighten the items on a nearby counter,
"productive fidgeting" my mother would have called it. I watched him
out of the corner of my eye. When he didn't think I was looking, his face fell
and he plucked listlessly at his uniform sleeve. He looked as sad as I felt.
"Malcolm?"
"Trip?"
I met his eyes calmly enough, but inside I was shivering like a cornered
rabbit.
"I'm
sorry if I opened up a can of worms at the movie the other night. I just
didn't think...no, that's not true, I *did* think, and I made a decision that
affected you without discussing it with you first. I'm sorry for that."
Trip paused, giving me an opportunity to speak, but when I didn't say
anything, he went on. "I'm sorry that we didn't talk about it first, but
I'm *not* sorry it happened." He flushed a little in embarrassment.
"I need...I need to know how you feel about me, Malcolm. Is this, "
he gestured toward the bed, "all we are? 'Cause I'm thinking that, well,
that I might want more than that. With you." He closed his eyes and held
his breath, waiting.
I hadn't
realized I was holding my own breath until it whooshed out. I started to laugh
softly, more from relief than anything else, but there was an ironic quality to
it. When he heard me laughing, Trip opened his eyes and gave me a wounded
look. Then he must have got a good look at my face, or what he could see
behind the bandages, because his hurt expression morphed into a grin. The he
started chuckling himself, and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Oh,
Trip...I'm not laughing at you," I reassured him, "I think it's
shock. I was so afraid that all you were interested in was this," I too
gestured at the bed. "I wasn't sure there was a chance for more, so I
took what I could get." I paused, then focused my gaze directly on him.
"How much more?"
"Lots
more. Everything. I want it all. I admit I never envisioned saying this to a
man, but, I want to be with you, Malcolm. Forever. I...I love you."
Trip was breath-taking in his intensity.
My own
expression must have been a sight to see. I reached out and grabbed his hand,
squeezed hard, and pulled him toward me.
"Do
you mean it? Or am I going to die after all? This isn't some kind of sick joke?"
I didn't wait for him to deny it. "No, you wouldn't joke about that. You
love me." The way I said it, it was a statement of fact, not a question.
Trip nodded anyway. Next thing he knew, I'd jerked him down to my chest and
was kissing him hard enough to break teeth. He eased me back and nuzzled my
neck, finding that spot just behind my ear that always made me groan. It still
worked.
"I
love you, too, you wonderful, irritating, beautiful man!" I breathed into
his ear. "Do you have any clue how much I love you?"
I thought
he was beginning to get the idea. His lips were hovering over mine and he
descended on them repeatedly for the sweetest kisses I'd ever experienced. He
caressed my face with his hand again, and *this* time I nuzzled his hand as he
stroked my cheek. My huge yawn spoiled the intimate moment and Trip chuckled
lightly.
"You
get some rest, Malcolm. I'll see ya tomorrow." He leaned in for one
final kiss and I took the feel of his lips on mine into my dreams.