Title: Ruminations on My Other Life
Author: Pretzelduck
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Author's URL: http://www.geocities.com/pretzelduck
Date: Posted to Archer's Enterprise, EntSTSlash, and Maco_Love 10/03/2004
Archive: Yes to Archer's Enterprise and EntSTCommunity
Fandom: Star Trek:
Category: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Pairing: Reed/Hayes
Summary: After finding out what their future-pasts held, Reed does a little drinking and Hayes does a little reflecting. Based on the third season episode "E2."
Warnings: None
Series: n/a
Sequel to: n/a
Beta: n/a
Spoilers: Future Tense, Proving Ground, Harbinger, Hatchery, E2
Disclaimer: I don't own the Star Trek franchise.
Author's Notes: There is nothing in the episode "E2" itself that canonically states Reed and Hayes ended up together on the Enterprise that was thrown into the past. But Malcolm, dying alone and without love like it did state? I just can't do that to him.
***
The feel of the bottle I'm gripping with both hands gives me a link to reality I desperately need right now.
Maybe that's how it started. Maybe it was desperation that led me in that direction.
A part of my mind knows I should probably stop. The after-effects of a night alone with a bottle of Andorian ale is something I don't need. But with the inventory in such flux, it was almost too easy to take a bottle from a cargo bay. I doubt the captain is keeping a close track of his gifts from Commander Shran. I'm not sure I'd care if he is, either. The burn in the back of my mouth that intensifies with each sip keeps my thoughts from spiraling into maudlin territory.
I prefer staying in the realm of disbelief. It's safer. If I wanted to be contemplating meaningful emotion, I wouldn't be sitting in the almost darkness of my quarters with a bottle of alien ale. All I want is the clarity that only the haze of alcohol can provide. I don't intend to get myself drunk. I just want my surroundings to blur for a little while.
Normally, I consider myself to be a rational and somewhat intelligent human being. As a result, I can usually make sense of events that take place around me and incidents in my own life. Therefore, over 100 years of history are wrong. The crew of that other Enterprise was mistaken.
Another drink goes down and I can feel it warm my body almost instantly as it begins to travel through my body. It is simply impossible that my life turned out like that.
I'm relatively certain that Hoshi and Travis believed me when I insinuated that I ended up alone. They excused themselves shortly after and I was glad they did. I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to keep up the act. Bloody hell, I nearly choked when Hoshi brought up the fact that due to the smaller number of women aboard, there was bound to be some bachelors among us.
Bachelors? Is that what they're calling it these days?
I almost told her that I wouldn't have minded being paired up with one of the men. Probably preferred it, truth be told. My relationships with men have a tendency to go a bit better than those with women. But given my track record, that difference is as substantial as the difference between Trip's best and worst shirt.
It has to be a load of rubbish. Some sort of practical joke passed down through the years by Travis' progeny.
As soon as the ensigns left, I asked a female crewman to come and join me at the table. No sense in tempting fate if I can help it. She was the exact opposite of how my future...or would it be my past...supposedly evolved on that other ship. In the two ways that matter anyway. She was female and she was from Starfleet. Because if on the off chance that it actually did happen, my spouse was neither of those things.
Spouse. The gag reflex kicks in at that thought so I take another sip in order to wash it away. I've given up using a glass and resorted to drinking directly from the bottle itself. Most of my dishes have been destroyed as a result of the recent attacks anyway.
I knew that I wouldn't be able to contain myself for very long. Ever since we encountered that ship from the future a couple of years ago, I knew that if given the opportunity I would want to see what my future entailed. All I wanted was a name. Perhaps I should have been more specific.
I still can't get the image of that single line of information out of my head. It will probably be there every time I see him now which is too often for my liking as it is.
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed married Major Matthew Hayes...
I didn't get much further than that. My eyes caught something about the captain officiating and a few other details of our life together before my brain overloaded and refused to comprehend any more. Another version of me married Major Bastard.
Not a sparring match that turned into a make-out session in the gym. Not a "we're about to die" fuck. But vows and rings and rose bouquets. I hate flowers.
How on Earth did that happen? The major and I playing house together. I hope we didn't have those awful matching towel sets with our initials embroidered on them. That would be a bit much, married to Hayes or not.
My vision is starting to blur a bit around the corners. I let my eyes close to prevent it from bothering me too much. After all, my hand knows how to get the bottle to my mouth without guidance.
I just can't seem to wrap my mind around it. A part of me had always hoped that happily ever after would eventually find me. From what I managed to read, there was no mention of a divorce or of either of us dying prematurely. So maybe we were happy.
But that mystical "happy" still takes quite a stretch of the imagination. The two of us falling in love with one another and all that it implies. I suppose I could grasp the physical attraction. His face has an agreeable look to it, when there isn't a disdainful sneer on it. I can't deny that Hayes is in good physical shape, probably due to the fact that all the MACOs do is work out.
But what I don't understand is how that could ever become something more. The man is practically impossible to get along with. He is far too arrogant for someone whose service in space can only be measured in months. I know I've been called stubborn but I will swear until my dying day that he is worse. Hayes thinks his soldiers are better than mine. That he knows more than I do...
Although that plan of attack against the Insectoid ship he devised was rather ingenious.
Never mind his occasionally impressive tactical knowledge. The man is a complete bore. He has practically no personality. Unless military discipline is considered to be a personality type. I also have to admit that I have heard him make a few comments that could be interpreted as rather witty. At least, I found them amusing.
Almost as amusing as the look on his face the first time Hayes caught a glimpse of Phlox's magical osmotic eel.
What also cannot be disregarded is the devotion he shows to both his team and to his duties. I suppose that quality would make him a good husband.
Oh bloody hell.
Obviously, I've had too much to drink if I'm attaching positive characteristics to Major Bastard. And thinking of him as a reasonable candidate for marriage.
He would be faithful, though. To be fair, I have to give him that.
Nonetheless, it's a mildly entertaining thought. On that other Enterprise, he ended up stuck being faithful to me. Not that that would be a relationship first for me or anything.
Damn. That's it.
Normally, I would go for a walk around the ship to clear my head. Wind up in the armory and invent something to work on until I'm exhausted enough to catch a few hours of sleep before my shift starts. But the chance of running into Hayes is too great. I've done that a few times during my nightly strolls and I really don't think I could handle him right now.
I suppose that the only thing I can do is go to bed and hope that the ale speeds up the falling asleep process. Standing up, the wave of mild dizziness and sudden pounding in my head both remind me that a trip to sickbay will probably be necessary in the morning. Phlox has a hangover cure that works relatively well if I can stand his lecture long enough for him to administer it.
He doesn't have anything that can make my knowledge of the relationship I had with Hayes disappear, though. I think that it will haunt me for a long time. I wonder how we managed not to kill each other. Or maybe that was part of the fun...fighting and then making up.
Kissing away each bruise, be it black and blue or merely on our egos...
I head into the bathroom and pour the rest of the ale down the sink. I don't need to be doing this again, no matter how great the temptation. Swaying slightly as I walk back to my bed, I don't bother to change out of my uniform. Sleeping in it just this one time won't kill me. For once, this slab of concrete disguised as a mattress feels soft and inviting. My body seems ready to relax but a nightmarish image decides to pass through my head, ruining any shot I had of getting a decent night's sleep.
A picture of Hayes curled up beside me, his arm draped across my chest, and a tender smile on his face. Happy because he's near me.
I have a feeling that I really liked that part.
***
The punching bag in the gym and I have become well acquainted during my months of service aboard Enterprise. It's usually inflicted with my frustrations regarding life in space and other things that irritate me.
Namely Lieutenant Reed.
This time, my fists are hitting the punching bag because apparently, on that other Enterprise, I chose to sign up for a lifetime of irritation.
I can't believe I married him.
I knew I shouldn't have looked. It wasn't a good idea to begin with. I guess I assumed that I had died an early death. In a firefight or some other form of combat. How could I have known that my fate would be so different than what I've always expected it to be?
I am a soldier. In the military for life. It is my life. As a MACO, the idea that I would die in the line of duty is something that I quickly became used to. Passing away in your sleep just usually isn't an option for someone like me. But that's exactly what I did.
Reed and I grew old together.
We taught the children of our shipmates how to run security and how to handle the tactical station and the armory. We were co-instructors of countless hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship sessions. Side-by-side, we defended Enterprise until we were gray, wrinkled, and unable to hold a phase rifle steady.
And through it all, it seems that we loved one another. Cared so deeply about each other that we died in our sleep together; my life expiring within minutes of his doing so.
I have never really thought myself capable of feeling like that for someone. To me, love has always been something that is a distraction. It conflicts with a soldier's dedication to his duty. You can't have two loves in your life. It just doesn't work like that. Or at least, I thought it didn't. My duty is everything to me but to marry someone, you have to love them.
I married Reed; therefore, I loved him. And according to the account of my life and our lives that I read, we continued to do our respective jobs despite our obvious feelings about each other. There was no mention of either of us ever being reprimanded in regards to dereliction of duty or anything like that.
Somehow, we must have managed it. Balanced our hazardous professions which both require on occasion the ability to sacrifice oneself and our marriage which must have been severely strained at such times.
As hard as it is to wrap my mind around this apparent change in my philosophy of life, it is even harder to understand how the person who brought it about could possibly be Malcolm Reed. The man is so arrogant and so sarcastic that part of the reason I let myself me goaded into fighting him was just for the opportunity to wipe that fucking smirk off his face.
And he whines. Incessantly. About the presence of my men and I on "his" ship. About the fact that I apparently spend all of my time looking for ways to circumvent his authority. Or my personal favorite, that I'm trying to steal his job.
I don't want his job. I'm not qualified for it in the first place. The skill that it requires in applying math and physics is something I just don't have. But I don't know how to convince Reed of that. To him, I'm a threat.
There's something else I don't get. How did Reed ever stop viewing me as his enemy? Did he just wake up one day and decide that resenting me or whatever it is that he does was too boring? Or was it ruining his "I'm stoic and emotionless" image?
I noticed that shortly after I came aboard. Everyone else he treats with this cool and distant professionalism. I, on the other hand, am a different matter entirely. Reed gets pissed at me. He loses the control I can tell he values when I'm the one that's irritating him.
At first, I found it aggravating that he treated everyone with respect except me. Then, it made me laugh...in private, of course...that I could get him so riled up. Now, there are times that I do it on purpose. I like seeing him explode. I like watching him lose his carefully constructed cool. There is something fascinating about the way Reed's lips tighten into a thin line and his voice becomes sharper than the dagger my father gave me on my eighteenth birthday. His head always tilts ever so slightly to one side and his blue-gray shift to completely gray.
It's...not amazing, per se but more along the lines of...unique.
That works. Unique. It's definitely the truth. I have never met anyone quite like Lieutenant Reed. He's different. Very complicated. I'm not the only one that feels that way, either. I can tell his friends seem to consider him an enigma. As enigmatic as Reed may be, it doesn't mean that he's completely indecipherable to the world around him.
The safety of Enterprise and its crew mean everything to him. He defends this ship like it is the only true home he has ever known. And from the way he tends to isolate himself, I think it might be.
What surprises me is that I'm not sure if his fellow fleeters who have known Reed a lot longer have realized that. So much for their so-called close knit family of explorers. Another example of this is just how easily they accept his monotone 'fine' when they ask him how he is. Chalk it up to Malcolm being Malcolm. But some of those times, I'm standing nearby and it's obvious to me that he's not fine. That something is bothering him.
I don't why they can't read him any better than they do. Commander Tucker, Ensigns Sato and Mayweather...they're his friends. I am his rival. An outsider. It angers me sometimes.
I think Reed deserves better.
The instant that thought goes through my mind, it dawns on me just how Reed and I may have ended up getting involved with one another. How I might have found myself caring about him.
I give the punching bag one last jab and walk away, leaving it to smack once against the wall before slowly swinging to a stop. Grabbing my uniform jacket, I head out the door in search of my quarters and what promises to be a restless night's sleep. Each step does nothing to dampen the strength of the thought demanding my singular attention.
I already have feelings for Reed.
-fin-