Title: Actions and Words
Author: Pretzelduck
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/pretzelduck
Length: about 1750 words
Fandom: Star Trek:
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Type: Slash M/M
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Summary: An injury to Captain Archer finds Malcolm keeping a bedside vigil.
Challenge: The Grrrl's Valentine's Day First-Kiss challenge
Feedback: Yes
Series/sequel: Nope
Archive: Yes to EntSTSlash Archive, Tim Ruben, and WWOMB
Spoilers: Not a single one
Disclaimer: Guess what?
I don't own the Star Trek franchise.
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The room was dark, illuminated only by the glow of machines. It was late at night or early in the morning, depending on one's frame of reference. The barely audible sound of quiet steps could be heard, even they were too loud for their maker. He came to rest a distance away from the room's only other occupant. Any closer would be his downfall. Not that he hadn't already begun that descent.
"I failed you, sir." The words were said softly but without inflection. He was past the point of emotions. Everything essential in him had been drained away, leaving only the body. A failure of a man.
Captain Archer laid undisturbed on the biobed. Only the hum of the monitors and the sight of the blanket raising and falling slightly with each breath convinced Malcolm that the man was still alive. He was pale from blood loss and shock; a color that was more befitting his visitor than him.
An odd squeal from the corner startled Malcolm for moment, before his trained mind quickly categorized the sound and dismissed it. One of the doctor's creatures. They had saved his life before and this afternoon, they and Phlox had saved the captain's. The job had fallen to them, the last line of the defense, after he had failed. The doctor had called it luck but Malcolm knew it for what it was. A miracle. The captain should have died on the operating table. But he should have died on that planet.
It was, after all, his job to die. Nothing would be greater or more perfect for
him. He was the protector and
defender. It was his job to be where the
captain was. Injured, in that biobed,
resting. He had been there before; he
would be there again. For the crew of
the
Because Malcolm was in love with him.
It seemed simple inside his head. Love was something he had little experience with. Attraction, yes, but there was more to it than that. With every secretive glance and electric touch, it became even more cemented in his mind. It was love. The man had been unrelenting. A smile, a question, a hand on his shoulder. They came like an army, once right after the other. Each denting his barricade a little more. Malcolm knew one day he would bend completely and they could be friends. But it wasn't Archer's friendship that he really wanted. He wanted more. He wanted it all.
So he had withdrawn behind his upbringing. Rules and regulations maintained the barricade; the dents became aching disruptions to the routine. Reminders of how easily he could slip and fall and of where he wanted to land. Perhaps if his dreams weren't so vivid and his quarters not so empty... It was love. So he expressed it the only way he could. His willingness to die.
Today, he had fallen. Those eyes had done him in. A smile across a small courtyard. Amusement over something. The reason was lost to him now. The gleam had caught his attention, out of the corner of his eye. But it was dull in comparison to those green depths. He had slipped and smiled in return. A moment later, pure instinct kicked in as amusement turned to shock and pain. He reacted but it was too late. The dagger wielding attacker had almost managed to slice the captain in two. Their hosts were outraged. Words were exchanged. Hoshi and her translator trying desperately to keep up. Malcolm's own words echoed in his head. 'Let a bloody diplomat handle the diplomacy. I'm getting the captain out of here. Now.' Anger and frustration laced his words. They hid the raging worry. He buried the condemnation.
Minutes that had passed like hours came and went. Hours seemed to stretch for days. Breaths were held and finally Phlox had pronounced that Archer would live. Malcolm had wandered back to his quarters. Sleep had overtaken the crew. The danger had passed; it was time to rest. He couldn't rest, though. He had almost gotten his captain killed. Confronted with the harshness of the false light, he could not lie to himself. It wasn't that he had failed to protect his captain; it was that he had failed to protect Jon.
After he had showered and changed his clothing, Malcolm had tried sleeping. The nightmares that had woken him were the kind that would plague him for a while. There was only one way he would rest tonight. So he had returned to Sickbay. His heart begging for confirmation. Proof that his vulnerability had destroyed what was so precious to him. Now, there he stood, watching Archer rest. It would be at least a week before he was allowed to be on light duty. The recovery would be long. Idly, Malcolm wondered just how long he would wait before reprimanding him.
He ventured to take a step closer. It was easier to make out features on the captain's face. The slightly upturned lips, smiling from a sedative enhanced dream. His golden brown hair had fallen child-like against his forehead. To Malcolm's eyes, there wasn't anything more beautiful than a sleeping Jonathan Archer. A sight he would only be allowed to see if he failed in his duty. And that would not happen again.
Tentatively, Malcolm took another step toward the biobed. He could hear his breathing now. Another reminder that he was still alive. It was enough for his mind. Enough so he could rest. Malcolm started to turn away when he felt smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He stared at his hand like it belonged to another person. Somehow, his fingers were caressing Archer's cheek. A moment passed as he tried to figure out how they had gotten there at all. Everything quickly snapped into place and he ripped his hand away. His eyes were riveted on the other man's face, searching for movement. There was none. He swallowed anxiously and made a decision.
It was dishonorable and improper but it was his only opportunity to know. To feel. For one moment, he wanted to have everything. A moment was all he could have.
Malcolm's hand returned to the cheek, laying flat against it. Bending down, he took a breath and lightly placed his lips against the captain's. Every nerve in his body was firing away. The softness branded into memory; an addition to his dreams.
There was movement underneath him. Reality returned with a vengeance. A perfect way to end this day. At least, he would no longer be worrying about a reprimand. A discharge was likely on the way. His gray eyes found themselves gazing into green ones.
"Malcolm?" The voice was raspy and weak but there was no mistaking the shock and surprise. In the blink of an eye, Malcolm backed away from the biobed; his arms dangling listlessly at his sides and his eyes staring intently at the deck. He couldn't see the horror in the other man's eyes. There was no doubt that it was there. It would destroy him. There would be no purpose then.
"I didn't mean to disturb your rest, sir. Good bye, Captain." Malcolm hadn't made it two steps when Archer's voice called him back.
"No...please..." It sounded as if it took all of his energy to get the hoarse words out. Malcolm couldn't resist the pleading and walked back to the biobed. His eyes focused anywhere but Archer's. Anything to avoid the final blow.
His downcast eyes caught the motion of Archer's arm as he reached out and took one of Malcolm's hands in his. He could feel the tremble as his hand gently returned the pressure. Although he wasn't sure whose body was trembling. Gathering every ounce of courage he possessed, Malcolm finally looked up into the eyes that had started this. Everything was there. Surprise, wonder, happiness. Everything except horror.
His knowledge of the English language disappeared as soon as their eyes met. He wasn't the sort of person who focalized what he was feeling. He never had. His mind was blank but he didn't drop his eyes. With his other hand, he covered their joined hands and made his second irresponsible decision of the past few minutes.
"Jon." The single syllable lit up the captain's face like nothing Malcolm had ever seen before. He watched that mouth struggle to form words but the exhaustion was too much for him contend with. Those expressive eyes mirrored his frustration. Another word of a single syllable was all that his energy would allow.
"Love." Every piece of Malcolm that had been ripped away by that dagger came rushing back so fast it overwhelmed him. The smiles, the questions, the touches. Each had held a hidden meaning. They had been statements of love. For him. He was shaking with emotion; so many that he couldn't name them.
One hand released itself from the tangle and reached up to run a thumb along Jon's face. There would be time for memorizing this sensation later. He knew that without a doubt; it seemed amazing to him how easily faith returned. Now, though, he was memorizing the reality. It was time, as well, to drop the barricade. There was no need for it. It appeared as if he truly could have everything.
"I love you, too." Jon's eyes slipped closed for a moment before revealing a joy in them so brilliant, it warmed his very soul. Once again, Malcolm bent down and brushed his lips fleetingly across Jon's. He could hear a sigh as he pulled away and a tender smile formed on his face. Looking down on Jon, he could see the need for sleep practically screaming from his body.
"You need to sleep." A slight shake of the head, as Jon tried to negate his statement. "I won't go anywhere."
A half-smile appeared on Jon's face. "You too."
Visions of nightmarish sleep forcefully impede on Malcolm's newfound peace of mind. "Later. I promise."
Jon's grip on Malcolm's hand tightened and his eyes turned incredibly serious. "Didn't fail me."
Malcolm's entire body relaxed as a tenseness he had forgotten left him. The very words his mind needed to hear. The pressure from Jon's hand relaxes slightly and Malcolm watched as his eyes closed.
He would stand here all night, holding Jon's hand. It was a pleasure. It was love. And it was returned.
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