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Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive .. |
Title: Remember Me
Author: Beverly Crusher
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash
Summary: A scan with unexpected consequences.
Comments: AN: If there's somebody out there who can't handle Malcolm suffering a bit, maybe he shouldn't read it. If you like a bit angst, hurt/comfort, and lot's of sappy, fluffy love.hey.right place, baby!
Archived to Reed's Armory on 10/13/2003.
"Have you ever thought about moving in together?"
Jon almost spilled his morning coffee across the table when he heard that question fromhis lover. Malcolm sat opposite him, and watched him with slight amusement.
"Can I take that as a 'no'?"
Jon coughed and tried to regain control before gazing at the dark-haired man. Malcolm looked utterly serene. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of gray boxers and a very seductive smile. His left hand caressed "Phaser", the little feline-like xami who showed her enjyoment with deep purring sounds. She had her little forefeet resting on Malcolm's chest and pushed on his chin with her head, demanding his attention which he was more than willing to give.
Normally Jon loved watching his lover playing with the little creature, but this morning Malcolm's unexpected question had really thrown him off--balance.
Moving in together? Sharing his quarters permanently with his lover? Waking up every morning in each other's arms, and knowing he would come home, even if the hour grew late.
Of course had he thought about it. Ever since that wonderful man in front of him had stepped not only into his life, but also into his bed. In his thoughts, he had seen himself and Malcolm back on Risa in a romantic little restaurant. He had seen themselves in that cozy bungalow near the sea, celebrating their love in a big bed, with a soft breeze flowing through the windows.
But never ever had he dared hope that Malcolm could want this as well.
On the other hand...why not?
Jon knew that deep in his heart...well, very, very deep...Malcolm was an incurable romantic. He only had to watch how his armory officer caressed Phaser. It has been love on first sight, and to be with Phaser, Malcolm had even stolen her from sickbay.
And now this question.
He saw that Malcolm was still watching him, his storm-gray eyes full of emotions.
Jon reached across the table and took his lover's hand in his own and stroked it softly.
"Yes. Why are you asking?"
Malcolm flushed a little and tried to pull his hand away. But Jon held it tight.
"Nothing. It was just a thought that came to mind."
Jon didn't believe him for a single second. Just a thought? Crossing the English man's mind? No way. He knew his lover too well to believe that.
When Malcolm asked a question, he had already answered it for himself in at least a dozen possible ways -going through each one in his mind, planning his own reaction to that answer
Porthos left his corner where he'd had breakfast, looked up at Jon and barked to get his friend's attention. Phaser stopped her ministrations for a second and looked down at Porthos. When she saw who it was, she returned her efforts to Malcolm's chin.
Absentmindedly, Jon stroked Porthos behind the ear and smiled at Malcolm.
"I don't believe you."
"You don't?"
Jon shook his head.
"Not a single word."
Malcolm emptied his teacup and put it back on the table. He set Phaser down on the floor and began to dress. Then he went over to Jon, gave him a tender kiss on his mouth, and left with an unreadable smile on his face.
"See you tonight, love. Okay?"
Malcolm went to the armory. His mind was singing a happy tune and he still smiled, thinking about the look on Jon's face.
They were a couple for over a year now, and he thought it was time to push their relationship forward a little. Moving in together seemed to be a good step in the right direction.
Before he entered the armory he heard T'Pol's voice over the comm.
"Captain Archer, Comdr. Tucker, and Lt. Reed to the bridge."
Her voice sounded as composed as ever. Malcolm turned on his heel and headed to the next turbolift, his brow furrowed in confusion.
When Jon entered the bridge, he saw Malcolm at his station, his hands running over his displays, his face an unreadable mask. The expression sent a shiver of fear down Jon's spine.
It was an expression of concern, of impending danger.
Danger for the ship or danger for the crew.
He turned his attention to T'Pol.
"Is there a problem, Subcommander
She turned her face to the large forward viewscreen. Jon followed her gaze and swallowed. There in the darkness of the space before them hovered a beautiful starship. Graceful, elegant in its curves, and blinding white, it hung there like a star.
Jon let out the breath he didn't even knew he was holding.
"My God. It's amazing. Whose is it, T'Pol?"
The Vulcan shrugged her shoulders slightly, a gesture she had unknowingly copied from her human crewmates.
"I don't know. I've never seen a ship like that before. It's nowhere in our database."
Jon turned around and looked at her, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
"Not even in the Vulcan database?"
There was no reaction in the Vulcan's face, except for a slight lift her left eyebrow. Her voice gave not the slightest hint of whether she was annoyed at being teased.
"No. Not even there. I gave orders to hail them, but there was no reply until now."
Jon stepped closer to Hoshi Sato's station, where the young women was pressing several buttons in a quick row.
"Hoshi? Do you get anything?"
The young woman had a small headphone on her right ear, and she stared at her console, running her fingers over the display.
"No. Nothing I can use. There are some...I don't know...fragments. I just can't put them together, as hard as I try."
"Try harder, Ensign."
"Yes, sir!"
Suddenly Malcolm's shout from Tactical put them all on alert.
"THEY'RE LOADING THEIR WEAPONS!"
Jon spun around and stared at Malcolm. His heart began to race.
"They're doing WHAT?"
"They're loading their weapons and aiming them at us, sir!"
Jon turned back to the comm-station
"HOSHI!"
The ensign's fingers flew over the console, as sweat appeared on her brow.
"Just one more minute. Just..."
She was interrupted by Malcolm, who now sounded deeply concerned.
"Captain? They are now in perfect position to blow us to hell, if we don't do something. May I at least load our weapons? Just in case we need to react."
Jon was thinking desperately. He hated using force and violence. But he hated to be defenseless as well. So he gave a curt nod in Malcolm's direction.
"Do it, Lieutenant. And shields up!"
A few seconds later, Malcolm was ready, his hands poised just millimeters above the buttons.
"Captain? I think I've got it. I..."
Before Hoshi could finish her sentence the Enterprise was hit hard by a powerful enerby-blast. Lights went out and the emergency lighting came on, a flickering yellow glow. Another blast hit Enterprise and she fell slightly to starbord. The ship rocked hard and shook violently
Then it was silent.
Malcolm rose slowly to his feet, hearing the muffled groans and sighs from the other officers getting up one by one. Oh my god, what power this strange ship had hit them with! He checked the incoming damage reports and was amazed to see, that there WAS NO damage reported.
None!
Not the slightest scratch.
Suddenly he heard T'Pol's voice, calm and composed, without any sign of emotion.
"Dr.Phlox to the bridge. Emergency."
Dr. Phlox? Why? Who was injured? Malcolm looked around the
Trip, a bit ruffled, a big scratch over his left eye, but standing.
Travis, checking his station as usual.
Hoshi, still clinging to her buttons. Her ponytail looked slightly mussed, but apart from that...
T'Pol looked exactly as she always did. Malcolm sometimes wondered if the Vulcan blood was not only green, but if it was icewater as well.
Jon.
Jon?
Oh my god, where was Jon? Malcolm's already fair skin turned even whiter. He took a few steps towards the captain's chair and suddenly he saw him. Jon was lying on the deck, unmoving, and terribly pale. Malcolm knelt beside him and checked his pulse. When he felt it strong and steady under his finger, he sighed with relief. Then the doors to the bridge hissed open and the ever-smiling face of Dr. Phlox appeared.
"So...where is our patient?"
"Over there, Doctor," T'Pol replied in her usual calm tone.
Damned emotionless Vulcans. This wasn't just any patient, this was the CAPTAIN, for heaven's sake. And it was his lover.
Dr. Phlox was already kneeling beside Jon on the floor and he run a tricorder over him. He seemed relieved when he was finished his scan.
"Nothing broken, no internal bleeding. Just a heavy concussion. If he stays In bed, he may be as good as new in a few days. But I'll want to keep him in sickbay for at least two nights for observation."
"Of course," nodded T'Pol.
"Dammed. What the hell had that been?"
Trip was the next one, Phlox attended to. While his headwound was being cleaned, the southener let out a few muttered curses directed at no one in particular.
"It was a scan."
Everyone turned toward Hoshi, staring at her in disbelief.
"What do you mean? A scan?"
"Yes, and they really regret if their scan collided with our internal systems--or caused any damage. It's some kind of standard procedure for them."
"Is it also a standard procedure not to reply when being hailed?" Malcolm asked bitterly.
He saw Jon's pale face as Phlox transported him to sickbay.
"They couldn't understand us. Just like we couldn't understand them. But now the UT is working. Do you want to talk to them, Subcommander?"
T'Pol took a seat in the captain's chair and nodded. Hoshi hit a button and on the screen appeared the image of a female humanoid with long red-golden hair. Her eyes were of an intense green, her skin was like porcelain, and she was dressed in a long white robe with golden ornaments. She seemed to fit perfectly with the beautiful ship she was aboard. Her hands were folded in front of her, and she bowed slightly.
"I deeply regret what happened. I sincerely hope no one suffered any injuries."
Her voice was soft and melodic, yet Malcolm was close to pulling his phaser pistol.
T'Pol's reply was emotionless, as always.
"Captain Archer has a concussion, but apart from that, there were no major injuries. Can you tell me your name?"
The female bowed again, an expression of regret on her face.
"I am sorry to hear that your captain has been injured. My name is Dooran from the Ello'Rama."
Malcolm wasn't able to hold back any longer. He took a step forward.
"Why did you arm your weapons? We didn't threaten you in any way."
Dooran looked surprised.
" Among our people, it is a sign of honor to meet new friends with fully-armed weapons. We didn't want to offend you. We are truly sorry for causing such inconvenience or misunderstanding."
Malcolm wanted to answer, but a sharp look from T'Pol silenced him.
"We accept your apologies and would like to invite you for dinner the day after tomorrow. I believe the captain should be released from sickbay by then."
Dooran smiled and her face lit up.
"We are truly honored and gladly accept your invitation. We will see you then."
Hoshi cut the comm and an icy silence fell on the bridge. Malcolm felt T'Pol's look and flushed a little.
"My apologies, Subcommander. I believe I forgot myself for a moment."
T'Pol's dark eyes rested on him briefly. He felt suddenly awkward. How could he have done that? He had interrupted the Subcommander while making first contact with an alien species. Why didn't the floor open up underneath him to swallow him? The next sentence from T'Pol came as a surprise, and he raised his head.
"Lt. Reed, I believe you should go to sickbay now. When Captain Archer wakes up, he will surely wants a report."
Malcolm nodded, feeling slightly dizzy. He nodded his agreement, turned and left the bridge.
Jon still looked terribly pale, but he was sitting on the bed, arguing loudly with Dr. Phlox. Malcolm smiled, very relieved when he heard his lover's voice, strong and steady.
"I HAVE to return to the bridge, Doctor. I can't stay here. The ship's been attacked. I'm needed there."
"It wasn't an attack."
Jon turned his head and looked at Malcolm.
"Lieutenant. What did you say?"
Malcolm moved closer. Every nerve in him longed to touch his lover. He wanted to kiss that pale skin, wanted to lie next to him and cuddle him to sleep. He wanted to remove the furrows from the worried brow.
"It wasn't an attack. It was a scan."
Malcolm repeated the conversation with the Ello'Rama and Jon's expression changed. He laughed a little. Then he laid his hand on Malcolm's shoulder, causing the younger man to shiver in anticipation.
"Quite an impressive girl, our Subcommander, isn't she?"
Then he turned to Phlox again.
"Can I go to the bridge now?"
Phlox shook his head.
"No, sorry, Captain. But you may return to your quarters and rest for at least 48 hours. If you agree to do that, you may leave sickbay. If not, I'll keep you here for two days. just for your health."
The Denobulan's smile grew wider, as he watched Jon's face.
"Lt. Reed, I release the captain into your care. Please make sure , that he goes straight to his quarters and lies down."
Malcolm nodded and gazed at Jon.
"Come on, Captain. Let's go. I'm sure, Porthos and Phaser will be happy to have you to snuggle with for two days. They..."
He stopped and looked back at Jon, who hadn't moved yet. Malcolm hesitated, because Jon had a questioning look in his eyes.
"Phaser? Who or what is 'Phaser'?"
Malcolm felt the blood drain from his face.
"What do you mean?"
Phlox, who had overheard the last sentence, stepped closer.
"Captain? Don't you remember the xami?"
"Yes, of course I do. I just didn't know her name was-...-what...Phaser? Did you name her?"
He turned to Malcolm.
"It sounds just like you. But why is she in my quarters?"
Malcolm stared at him in disbelief, then looked at Phlox with a question in his eyes.
"Doctor?"
Malcolm's voice sounded harsh, even to himself.
"Doctor, what is it? Why can't he remember?"
Phlox cleared his throat.
"Well, it is common with concussions that there my be a little amnesia."
Both men looked at him. Jon was the first who found his voice again.
"Amnesia? But I can remember everything, except the name of a little furry animal."
The doctor smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Do you? With whom did you share breakfast this morning?"
Jon opened his mouth. And closed it again. He repeated this several times, but couldn't come up with an answer. Finally he had to admit it.
"I don't know. Trip?"
Malcolm felt his knees grow weak. If Jon couldn't remember that they had breakfast together this morning, had he forgotten about their love, too?
Phlox shook his head.
"It isn't so unusual for people who suffer concussion to...-well...-block out certain things, that appear to be emotionally complicated."
"But I can remember everything except the name of a little hairy cat and with whom I had breakfast. Nothing of that seems to be so...how did you put it? Emotionally complicated."
"Oh I wouldn't worry about that, Captain. In most cases the memory will return in a few days. Go to your quarters, rest, and see me tomorrow in the morning. Lt. Reed, would you take care of all that?"
Jon and Malcolm were silent on their way to Jon's quarters. Malcolm's mind was racing. What should he do? How should he react?
When they reached Jon's quarters, Malcolm tapped in the code without thinking and the door opened.
Jon stared at him.
"How come you know my code?"
Before Malcolm could answer, Porthos and Phaser came running to the door. Porthos jumped up on Jon's legs and Phaser made an enormous leap, coming to rest on Malcolm's shoulder. But Jon was still staring at Malcolm.
"How come you know my security code?"
Suddenly Malcolm knew with terrible clarity that the 'emotional complication', that the amnesia had washed away, was him. He felt as if a heavy weight had crushed him to the ground.
"You...you gave it to me, just in case," he mumbled, and added a shy "Captain."
Jon smiled and gave the armory officer a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"It's okay, Malcolm. No need to get nervous."
Malcolm slowly raised his eyes until they met the green eyes of his lover. But there was no warmth in them. No sparkle, no love, no desire. It was just the usual interest from a superior In the welfare his subordinate. Malcolm hardly noticed the next words.
"I'm glad I can rely on you in case I should ever forget it. Thanks for guiding me to my quarters. I can make it from here alone. Tell T'Pol I'll be back tomorrow. Bye."
With these words the doors closed in front of Malcolm, who still was caressing Phaser.
Never before had he felt so alone.
Later that night Jon had an uneasy sleep.
He was dreaming.
In his dreams he was holding Malcolm Reed in his arms, kissing him, caressing him. He let his hands wander down the breathtaking body until he reached Malcolm's erect member. With his mouth and his tongue he began worshipping it in every possible way 'til finally that gorgeous man beneath him came with a deep sigh.
Startled, Jon woke up. He was panting, his shirt was dripping with sweat, and he had a raging hard-on. Still he could feel the softness of the other man's skin beneath his hands, could hear the soft moans and the occasional gasps. He untangled himself from the bedcovers and went to the bathroom. What he needed now was a ice-cold shower. Very long and really, really cold.
It was 2200 hours. The day-shift was over and the night-shift was running smoothly.
Silence had fallen over Enterprise and a very tired Trip Tucker was getting ready to catch an eyeful of sleep. Unfortunately he was interrupted by the door chime. For a brief moment he wondered if he could ignore it, but his sense of duty won and he called out
"Come in."
The doors hissed open to reveal a very unhappy looking Lt. Malcolm Reed. Trip knew in an instant that something serious must have happened. Never before had he seen his friend look so utterly confused, so deeply sad. Malcolm had a bottle of Scotch in one hand and two glasses in the other. He raised the bottle slightly.
"Do you want to join me? I need company and a friend."
Trip nodded, and without saying a word he pulled the smaller man in. He shoved him onto a chair, poured two glasses of scotch and handed one to his friend. Softly they clinked the glasses together and Malcolm emptied his glass in one swift gulp.
Trip was speechless. No, not something serious, something earthshaking must have happened. He poured another glass and before the English man could empty it, Trip asked in a low voice.
"Tell me what's happened."
To his shock, he saw tears appear in the corner of these amazing blue-gray eyes and without thinking, acting only on impulse, he grabbed the younger man by his shoulders and pulled him in a strong embrace. He felt his friend's body go limp, racked by heavy sobs as Malcolm cried inconsolably, like nothing Trip had ever seen before from the young English man
After what seemed an eternity the sobs slowly subsided, leaving an empty and exhausted Malcolm. Trip gently wiped the tears away and asked again.
"What has happened? Did Jon break up with you?"
Slowly Malcolm shook his head. His voice was harsh from the crying and his answer was barely audible.
"He has forgotten me," came the muffled answer from somewhere behind Trip's right ear.
Trip wasn't sure if he had heard what he thought he had heard.
"He has what?"
"Jon has forgotten me. Me, our love, everything."
Trip was terribly confused. Jon had been so madly in love with this amazing man. It was nearly unbelievable that a little bump on the head could make him forget everything. Okay, well, a bit more than a little bump. A slightly bigger bump.
"But...how?"
Malcolm pulled himself up into a sitting position, moving away from Trip, whose left hand was still resting on his shoulder.
"The doctor said that it's nothing unusual to have partial amnesia after a concussion like Jon had. He said the mind blocks out everything that is emotionally complicated. You see, I'm emotionally complicated."
Now he sounded hurt.
Trip didn't know what to say. He stared at Malcolm and thought desperately about a way to comfort his friend. But there was nothing he could do. So he did the only thing that came to his mind and poured him his third glass of scotch.
"You can stay the night if you want. I'll take a sleeping bag and you can have the bed."
Malcolm smiled sadly, looking a bit tipsy as well.
"No, Phaser awaits me. She's the only one now."
"Did you say anything to Jon? I mean, concerning him and you and your relationship."
"No. I didn't know how to put it. I can't just walk up to him and say 'Hello, Captain, do you remember that we're lovers?'"
"Why the hell not?"
Malcolm stared at Trip as if he was out of his mind. And suddenly Trip knew why the Brit couldn't do it. He had offered Jon his heart. An enormous gesture for this very private man. And unknowingly Jon had ripped it to pieces. And there was no way for Malcolm to deal with that.
It nearly broke Trip's heart to see Malcolm suffer like this. But what could he do?
Nothing!
He could do nothing other than sit back and wait, and offer a shoulder to cry on.
The shower had done it's job. Jon had been standing beneath the icy water for at least twenty minutes. And just as he wanted to turn off the shower, an image came to his mind. Hands that were gently stroking his chest, running down his body. A seductive voice whispering endearments in his ear. Soft lips caressing his shoulders while they danced slowly to his spine. He closed his eyes, reveling in these fantasies.
Again Malcolm Reed.
Malcolm, who turned him around, claimed his lips in a hungry kiss.
Malcolm, who pressed himself up against his body, covering every inch of skin with his own.
Malcolm, who rested his hands against the shower wall to steady himself while Jon made love to him.
And Malcolm, who bent him over slightly, who caressed the opening to his body, until he could do nothing than beg for more. Until finally Malcolm entered him, made his heart sing in joy and fucked him to heaven.
Jon opened his eyes again and looked down at himself. He groaned in frustration. Then he took a step back and opened the faucet again.
Two hours later, he had convinced himself that he was no schoolboy anymore and that he should be able to control his body. Mostly.
He left the bathroom and stepped to his drawer to pull out new underwear, when he suddenly stepped on something small but painful. He let out a sharp exclamation and bent down to pick it up, whatever it was.
It was a little cat-toy. A mouse covered with fur. He looked at his beagle, who was snoring peacefully in his basket. No, Porthos wouldn't play with a little fur-covered mouse. But a cat might do so. Or a xami.
He sat down on his bed and looked at the time. 0137 hours. Sure as hell Trip would be sleeping by now but he needed to talk to him or he'd go insane. There was an important secret locked up somewhere in his mind.
Why did he have such erotic dreams?
Why was there xami-toys scattered all around his place?
Why did Malcolm knew his security code, when he couldn't remember having gaven it to him?
He quickly got dressed and left his quarters. He had to see Trip. Now!
Trip growled in frustration as the door chime pulled him out of his dreams. Oh no, not again.
He checked the time. 0141 hours. Now if whoever-was-there didn't have a damned good reason for it, he would personally rip his lungs out and feed them to Phlox's bat.
"Come. In."
The doors opened and Trip buried his head again in his pillow.
Great! Just great!
Jon! With a look like a lost puppy on his handsome face.
Exactly what he needed right now. Another soul-wrenching talk with a lost lover. He sat up and switched on the lights.
And was surprised as he noticed Jon's bare feet and his dump hair. He looked like he came directly out of...
"Did you just take a shower?"
Jon nodded and sat down next to him on the bed.
"Trip, I need to talk to someone. And you know me better than anyone else on this ship."
Trip smirked at that comment.
"Now that's a theory I wouldn't like to test."
Jon looked at him.
"What?"
"Oh, nothin'. Go on. Like a beer?"
Jon leaned back and nodded. When Trip came back with two bottles, he handed one to his friend, sat cross-legged on the bed, and looked at him.
"So, what's running through big boss's mind that couldn't wait till mornin'?"
Jon took a deep gulp from his beer and gazed at his hands. Whatever it was, it wasn't easy to explain, that much Trip could tell.
"I have these dreams. Fragments. Like memories. But I don't know what they mean. And I thought you could probably help me."
"Sure. Dreams are my specialty. Tell me 'bout your dreams." He was trying to keep the mood light.
Jon bowed his head a little more and Trip could have sworn he saw his old friend blushing.
"It's...they are...very...ahem...erotic. And all about me and...well...Malcolm."
Trip stared at him, incredulous.
"And that's it? You wake me up in the middle of the goddamn night to tell me you have erotic dreams about your lover?"
Ooops...a mistake. He saw Jon flush and go pale all at once.
"My...lover?"
Trip sighed heavily. Now that he had started it, now he had to finish it. He took a deep breath.
"Look, Jonny. You and Malcolm, you've been a couple for a bit more than a year now. I don't know why the bump on your head caused you to forget that of all things. He loves you and you love him. More than you've ever loved someone. Hell, I've never seen you so crazy about anyone."
"But...why didn't he say something?"
Trip stared at Jon with a deadpan expression in his face and the other man winced slightly.
"Okay...stupid question. I see that. But it explains my dreams."
Trip took another gulp of beer. Then he turned the bottle in his hands.
"He was here, y'know?"
Jon raised his head.
"Malcolm? Here?"
Trip nodded.
"I think you should go to him. Talk to him. Explain to him what happened."
Jon shrugged.
"How can I when even I don't know what has happened. What could I explain?"
Trip laid his hand on Jon's thigh.
"Just talk. Maybe things will clear up, okay?"
Jon rose to his feet and emptied the bottle. He handed it to Trip and turned around.
"Jon?"
He looked Trip over his shoulder.
"You wanna go NOW?"
"I have to. I can't leave him like that. I can't leave ME like that. Wish me luck."
Trip smiled a big goofy grin and raised both hands with thumbs up.
Malcolm couldn't sleep.
He missed Jon so much it nearly was nearly a physical ache. Even the calming presence of Phaser couldn't soothe his pain this time.
He had lost him. He turned in the darkness and caressed the purring xami. Sleep refused to come.
He looked at the time.
0219 hours.
Exactly four minutes later than the last time he had checked. Again he rolled over and stared into darkness.
He startled when the door-chime rang, and sat up in bed.
"Who's there?"
"Malcolm? It's me...Jon. May I come in?"
Jon? What did he want here in the middle of the night? Malcolm rose slowly, went to the door, and without saying a word, he unlocked the door and opened it. He turned around without looking at Jon, went back to his bed, sat down and took Phaser on his lap.
Jon took a seat next to him on the bed. He gently stroked Phaser, who pushed her little head into his hand, purring.
"I don't know where to start, Malcolm."
"How about starting with what you're doing here in the middle of the night?"
"I wanted to talk to you. I spoke with Trip..."
"Oh..."
"And he told me about-...-us."
"Oh!"
Malcolm rose from the bed again, and set Phaser down. He couldn't stand being near Jon without touching him. He began pacing the room, avoiding Jon's gaze as he asked with a very small voice.
"And now?"
"I don't know. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry about what happened."
Every word cut into Malcolm's heart like a knife.
"So you regret it?"
"NO!! No, my god, Malcolm, no! Never. God, I dreamt of you this night. I can't even take a shower without thinking of you."
Malcolm smiled the little half-smile that Jon always found so heartbreaking, and glanced at him over his shoulder. "You always loved to shower."
"Even more together with you."
Malcolm's smile widened.
"You remember that?"
Jon furrowed his brow.
"In fragments."
Malcolm felt overwhelmed by his presence. And an instinct deep in his gut told him to take the chance. Later, he couldn't tell where his boldness had come from. He turned to Jon again, took the few steps to the bed, pulled him upwards and kissed him fully on the mouth.
For a few seconds the world stood still.
- Jon was overwhelmed, and without thinking he returned the kiss. He explored the soft mouth he had been dreaming some hours ago. And found that his dreams were nothing compared to the reality of holding this man in his arms.
But it was wrong. A voice screeched in his head, telling him to let go, to run away as fast and as far as he could. But his heart told him to stay where he was, to close his arms around this man and never to let him go.
His head won.
Jon gathered all his will together and pushed Malcolm back. Panting they stared at one another.
"No. I can't do that. I...Oh god, Malcolm, I'm so sorry. But I need to remember what we were, before we can go back to being lovers. I need to know. I...god, I want to touch you, want to feel you beneath me, I...I must go. I'm sorry, Malcolm. I..."
Jon turned and run out of the other man's quarters as if It were the devil himself chasing him.
And in a way it was.
Malcolm stared at the place where, just seconds earlier, his lover had been standing. A deep sadness filled his heart. He turned out the lights, went to bed again, pulled the blankets up to his chin and closed his eyes.
He felt limp.
Empty.
And there was nothing that could change that. He had lost him completely.
Jon wasn't feeling good the next morning. He had barely slept and when he had closed his eyes, he had seen HIM, nobody but him. Again and again and again.
He had taken another cold shower, but to no avail.
As he got dressed, he suddenly saw himself in his underwear with Malcolm tenderly stroking his butt, while the English man searched for his boxers.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn't he remember clearly? Last night it had nearly broken his heart to see Malcolm's face when he broke of their kiss. So lost, so helpless.
But he knew that it wasn't fair. Not to him, not to Malcolm. He needed to be sure he was doing the right thing.
But was he?
Malcolm was functioning.
Not more and not less.
When Trip saw his friend, he was deeply concerned. Malcolm was pale, spoke only the most necessary words, and was eating nothing. He buried himself in his work and avoided the bridge like hell.
Trip knew that it couldn't go on like that. But once again he felt completely helpless. What could he do?
On his way to the bridge, Jon avoided the armory, although usually It was the first place he visited in the morning. He couldn't handle seeing Malcolm as long as he had this big black hole in his mind where the memories of Malcolm should be.
But slowly, in fragments, scattered over the day, images came to his mind. Slowly they formed a picture.
Malcolm in his arms. Their first kiss, months ago, after the incident on Shuttlepod One, where Malcolm nearly died.
Then the first touch as lovers.
Dinner together.
Shower together.
The awkward feeling when Trip discovered their relationship, and the relief when his friend was happy about his choice of partner.
And in the afternoon, when he was sitting over his coffee, he suddenly heard the words:
"Have you ever thought about moving in together?"
Jon jumped up, called Malcolm over the comm-system and ordered him to meet him in his quarters immediately.
It was all back.
Jon paced his quarters nervously. When the door-chime finally rang he nearly jumped.
"Come in."
When Malcolm stepped through the door, Jon's heart skipped a beat and for a second he hated himself.
His lover looked horrible. Pale, with deep dark circles under his eyes and an emotionless expression on his face.
Without further thought, Jon knew there was only one way. He moved closer to Malcolm, took him in his arms and kissed him tenderly on his lips.
Slowly the English man kissed him back, tentatively opening his mouth as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening.
Jon pulled him closer, and deepened the kiss.
He was rewarded with a deep moan.
How cold he have hurt his lover like that? With a deep growl he crushed Malcolm against his chest.
"Oh god, Malcolm, my love."
Malcolm withdrew a bit and looked up at him.
"You...you remember again?"
"I do. God, I do. Can you ever forgive me, for putting you through this all?"
With a sigh, Jon claimed Malcolm's lips again and deepened the kiss with passion. Malcolm felt his knees go weak and steadied himself on his lover's broad shoulders. Jon let his lips wander along the English man's jaw, nibbled on his throat and licked tenderly over that hyper-sensitive spot, under which he could feel the rapidly beating pulse of the man in his arms. Malcolm undressed his lover quickly and efficiently. Jon laughed deep in his chest, and let himself fall back on the bed, pulling Malcolm down with him.
"I can't sleep without you, love. I've tried, but failed." Malcolm admitted.
"I'm no better. As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw you, tasted you, dreamed of you. The memories were haunting me the whole day. But when I was drinking my coffee this afternoon, the puzzle pieces all fell together completely. I love you, Malcolm. You're in my blood, in my veins. I'm drowning in you. God, kiss me and let's create a few more memories to hold on to."
With these words, Jon rolled a laughing Malcolm over onto his back and pinned him underneath his own body.
"You're definitely wearing too many clothes, darling."
"Then change that."
"I will, my Malcolm, I will."
Goosebumps appeared on Malcolm's skin when he heard the tender words.
'My Malcolm'
It was like a caress.
Then there were no more words necessary. Hour after hour passed while they explored each other's body anew. Jon let his fantasy run wild, kissed and caressed his lover everywhere until the normally very eloquent English man was reduced to a bundle of pleasure, able only to beg, moan and sigh. He grabbed the lube from his nightstand, and prepared his lover gently, but with urgency. After a few minutes he could hear single words through Malcolm's moaning, sounding like 'Oh, yes, love, now.'
With an incredibly tender gesture, he positioned himself at the opening to his lover's body and slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed in, enjoying the sensation of entering this magnificent body. He kissed Malcolm's throat again and worked his way up to his lips.
"I love you." he murmured against them, and pushed all the way in.
Malcolm took a sharp breath and dug his nails into his lover's back.
"Oh god, love! Yes. That's it. Love me. Give it to me. Now!"
Slowly Jon began to move, steadily stroking Malcolm's rock hard member in rhythm to his thrusts.
But after a few minutes, he recognized that he wouldn't be able to stand it much longer. He tried to withdrew from his lover, but Malcolm put his legs around his waist and kept him inside.
"Oh god, Malc...I can't stand...I'm coming too soon if you don't let me go."
"Then come, my love. Come within me. Please...geez, Jon, go on and fuck my brains out."
That pushed Jon over the edge. He slammed into his lover's body and came seconds later with a roaring shout. Malcolm followed only moments later.
Jon nearly collapsed on Malcolm, panting heavily, until he suddenly burst out in laughter.
"'Geez'? 'Fuck my brains out'? You're spending entirely too much time with a certain engineer, Malcolm."
Malcolm chuckled, too.
"Yes, I believe his southern charm is overwhelming and possibly contagious. Say, love, can I stay the night?"
Jon snuggled closer to the younger man.
"I'm not letting you go anywhere. By the way...what were you saying the other morning? About moving in together?"
Malcolm smiled his most seductive smile.
"I talked to Trip about bigger quarters, and he said maybe he can arrange a change with Ensign Stattler and Ensign Tovara. They share the biggest quarters on this ship, and I'm sure they will be glad to have their own quarters. Then we can move in there together. If you want to."
Malcolm was nearly squashed in a bear hug by 200 lb. of armorous captain, who gave the armory officer a peck on the nose.
"I want to do it, darling."
"Fine. Then I can tell Trip tomorrow to arrange everything."
Jon pulled him even closer, though it was hardly possible.
"Good night, my Malcolm."
"Good night, love."
The next morning in the captain's quarters was filled with touches, kisses and stolen moments full of bliss, until both men were finally ready to return to their duties.
Jon went to Phlox to tell him that his memory was fully restored.
Malcolm went to the armory to make sure the Ello'Rama's scan hadn't caused any kind of failures. But everything was working smoothly.
The day on the bridge was uneventful; compared to the day before, it was almost boring.
Jon read the reports from the various sections and noticed that the scan, except for the heavy shaking, had done no damage. It seemed that he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When the delegation of the Ello'Rama came in the evening, lead by Dooran, Jon was almost fully recovered from his memory loss.
Dooran wore a green robe, decorated with golden stitching. Her companion, who was her second-in-command, had the same fascinating red-golden hair, flowing freely down his shoulders. But his eyes were golden-brown. His name was Liamor and he, too, apologized for the recent events.
Just before departing for their own ship, Dooran suddenly faced Jon and Malcolm fully for a few seconds and said in a regretful voice.
"I'm sorry that we caused you and your mate so much trouble. I can read it in your eyes. You suffered pain and loss. We truly are sorry. We are glad to see that the misunderstanding is fixed. All the more, we thank you for inviting us so kindly and for your extraordinary hospitality. The Ello'Rama will always be friend to the humans."
Again, she bowed with grace and left.
T'Pol and Tucker had already left for their quarters, leaving Jon and Malcolm standing side by side.
Finally Jon spoke.
"A very kind people. And very wise. Come on, darling. Let's go to our quarters, grab some sleep."
"I'm not tired, love."
With a devilish grin, Jon took Malcolm's hand and pulled him along the corridor to the next turbolift.
"I'm not either, darling. I'm not either..."
Two corridors away, a passing ensign turned around and smiled when she heard the loud and happy laughter of Enterprise's armory officer.
~the end~