Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive ..

Title: If Only (Death)

Author: Kalita Kasar

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Author's Web site: http://kalkasar.ussimperator.com

Rating: PG-13

Category: Slash

Pairing: Archer/Reed

Series: The Four Horseman

Sequel to: As Long As You Want

Summary: Archer and Malcolm struggle to come to terms with the death of a crewman on an away mission.

Comments: The first in a series in answer to the EnSTSlash (Leah) challenge, "The Four Horsemen." This story deals with the horseman, "Death." I don't know if the rest will be part of the same canon or not, but this one seemed to fit nicely after As Long As You Want, so that's where I have placed it. Hopefully the bunny will be consistent and the other three will be in the same series. The character who dies in this is an original minor character and shouldn't engender any emotional attachment or response from anyone...I hope.

Archived to Reed's Armory on 11/20/2003
First posted 11/03/2002

If Only (Death)



Captain Jonathan Archer sat at the desk in his quarters staring dismally at
the console in front of him. He'd been sitting there for more than an hour
attempting to write a letter of condolence to the family of Crewman
Jamieson.

The crewman had accompanied a landing party to a small desert planet a few
days before and had been killed when the party was unexpectedly attacked by
some kind of life form.

The captain sighed softly, looking at the cursor flashing just behind the
phrase 'killed in action.' With a shake of his head, he stood up and moved
to the viewport, gazing out at the streaming stars.

'Killed in action,' he thought, 'such cold, clinical words; words that say
nothing of what really happened. Words that don't show you the last gasping
moments of some poor bastard lying in the hot sands of a desert with his
throat torn out. Killed in action...clean, sanitized and...So damned empty!'

He frowned and licked his lips. He knew when he had agreed to take this
mission that he couldn't honestly hope to return with the same people he had
gone out with. The very nature of their mission was such that some of them
were going to be killed. Some of them were going to be seriously injured and
have to return to Earth, but it still hurt like a personal slight to lose
Jamieson.

It wasn't the first time he'd had to write such a letter, and common sense
told him it wouldn't be the last. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the
offending console and let out his breath with a sigh. Maybe it could wait
just another hour. His quarters suddenly felt too small and cramped; he
needed a walk. In fact, he needed a drink, but he wasn't going to give into
that urging just yet.

Calling to Porthos, the captain walked out of his quarters and strode along
the corridor, the observation deck seemed like a good place to be right now,
and he headed in that direction.


--/--

Alone in the darkness of the observation deck, he sprawled on one of the
small sofas, arms flung out to the sides, one of them, by reason of the sofa
back pointing towards the domed ceiling, the fingers slightly curled. He
stared at the hand, and was put in mind of a painting on the roof of an
ancient chapel in Europe. Part of his mind fancied that it would be
interesting if another hand reached to touch the tips of his fingers. He
almost laughed at the image, but quickly sobered as he reminded himself that
this was no time for levity.

Jamieson was dead. Reed sighed and let the hand fall to his chest. He still
couldn't fathom it; one moment the young crewman had been so alive, vital.
laughing at some foolish remark from one of his crewmates.

Reed had turned to give them both a stern look and warn them to keep their
minds focussed on the mission.

The attack was sudden and swift. Tozer was knocked to the side by the
blurred shape that seemed to lunge out of the very sand at their feet. There
was a scream -- blood, confusion of movement and noise; Reed reached for the
phase pistol in its holster, simultaneously shouting for the other team
members to defend themselves.

The creature had Jamieson in its jaws. What the hell was it? He fired, once,
twice, heard the chilling screams reach a crescendo of agony and then, the
creature dropped the lifeless crewman and vanished into the sand.

So fast. So final.


Reed closed his eyes.

'I should have been back there. I was the leader of the team, I should have
let them go ahead and I could have...' He shook his head. This wouldn't do,
there was nothing he could have done to save Jamieson, and wishing it could
have been himself that was killed wasn't going to change anything.

He sighed, forcing the tension in his shoulders to ease. He'd come here to
relax, to get away from the thousand and one 'if only's' that had plagued
him in the silence of his quarters.

--/--

He walked into the quiet of the observation deck, one of his favourite
places to go when his mind was overburdened with command. Here, he could
forget for a little while that he was captain of a Starship. He could lie on
a sofa and stare up at the stars as they moved by the transparent domed
ceiling. He could forget his surroundings and imagine he was adrift in some
silent, swirling cloud of light and colour.

That was something about space that those who had never been there didn't
appreciate. The color -- the splendour of it. It was shades of black, blue,
red and green, and flares of gold and silver. There was no end to the
infinite combinations of color and light that could be seen. He sighed and
moved towards a sofa.

"Porthos," Archer said as the dog headed off towards another sofa that was
placed with its back to the doors. The dog looked over his shoulder at the
captain but continued to move towards the other sofa.

"Captain?" A voice spoke softly and a head appeared over the back of the
sofa. "Hello Porthos," Reed said, as he reached to scratch the dog's ears
gently.

"Malcolm," Archer smiled slightly, and moved towards the lieutenant. "I
didn't know anyone was here."

"I often come here," Reed replied. "I like to just...watch."

"Me too," Archer said with a nod. "Am I...disturbing you? I could..."

"Not at all, sir," Reed sat up and moved so that there was space on the sofa
next to him. "It's not as though I own this deck."

"It's been a tough day," Archer sighed as he eased his frame into the sofa
next to the younger man. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." It was the stock standard response and Archer smiled as
he settled into the padded comfort of the lounge.

"I was trying to write to his parents." There was no need to qualify who he
referred to. "He was only twenty, you know?"

Reed nodded, gazing out at the vista of space. "Can't be easy," he said

"It never is." Archer glanced at Reed and then went on. "This is not the
first time, but it's no easier now than it was back then."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really, no use going over things that happened so long ago."

Another nod and silence fell between them.

Archer sighed, enjoying the companionable silence.

"I've never lost anyone who was under my responsibility before," Reed said
softly. "I've been lying here telling myself it's no use dwelling on what
might have been; it won't change anything. I know that, but..."

"But your mind won't leave it alone."

"Yeah."

"Comes with the territory, Malcolm." His tone held an implied 'get used to
it.'

"Suppose so. Doesn't make it any easier though."

"If it's easy then you need to worry," Archer told him.

A nod, more silence.

"How's Tozer?" Archer asked. "He and Jamieson were friends, weren't they?"

"Yes. He's...holding up all right, still pretty shaken." Reed carded
Porthos' ears between slender fingers. "It could just as easily have been
him."

There was something vulnerable about the Armoury Officer, an openness that
Archer had never seen before. He watched the younger man quietly, revelling
in this chance to see him with his defences down. Archer frowned as a
thought presented itself, "Malcolm..."

"Yes?" Blue-grey eyes turned to meet his.

"It could just as easily have been you," Archer said.

"That thought had crossed my mind." A small smile. "Along with all the
accompanying reasons for why it should have been me."

"I...I'm glad it wasn't."

"I think I am too."

"I hope so." There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere; a change from
fellow officers discussing a death to something deeper. Blue-grey eyes
studied his face intently for a moment. For a frozen moment of time, Archer knew
he could kiss Reed and it would be all right. He leaned a little closer,
watching those expressive eyes. A hand reached out to caress the
lieutenant's cheek and he saw the lips part slightly in anticipation.

The doors slid open at that exact moment. "Jon, I'm sorry to disturb ya but
I need your input on...oh shit." Charles Tucker halted in his tracks and bit
down on his lower lip.

The moment shattered, and Archer let his hand fall away from Reed's face.

"Uh, sorry," Tucker was already back-pedalling for the doors. "I guess I
shoulda commed before bargein in here."

"Never mind," Reed was on his feet, the veneer firmly back in place. "I was
just about to leave anyway," he said. He gave Porthos one last pat on his
head and then straightened up. "I'll see you tomorrow, sir," he said to
Archer. "Commander," he said with a slight nod as he walked out of the
observation deck.

"Damn, I'm sorry, Jon!" Tucker was all contrition, "Why didn't ya tell me
you'd arranged another date? I woulda waited on this til tomorrow."

"I didn't." Archer said with a wave of his hand. "He just happened to be
here when I arrived." He grimaced as he recalled the disastrous breakfast
he'd arranged a few weeks before with the younger man. "I haven't had the
courage to arrange anything with him since that breakfast."

"That's not like you," Tucker said softly. "You're no coward, Jon Archer."

"It seems that I am where Malcolm Reed is concerned." A smile,

"And now I come stompin' in here and spoil somethin' special, huh?" Tucker
shook his head in self-disgust. "Just call me pestilence!"

Archer laughed. "Never mind," he said. "These weren't the ideal
circumstances to start a courtship under anyway."
A nod from the engineer. "You got that letter done yet?"

"No."

Tucker looked to the floor for a moment, and then met the captain's eyes.
"Want me to do it?"

"Thanks, but...I think it's better coming from me."

"Sure." Tucker moved to join him on the sofa.

"I knew this was a possibility, Trip. It's not like we're on a Sunday jaunt
around the bay."

"True, but that doesn't mean it's any easier when it does happen."

Archer nodded and moved to stand up. "Well, the letter won't get written
here." He smiled as Tucker got to his feet.

"Cap'n?" Tucker called him as he moved towards the door.

Archer turned to look at his friend.

"Don't put it off much longer; you just don't know what's gonna happen
t'morrow."

Archer nodded, knowing his friend was not referring to the letter he had to
write. "Thanks." He turned and walked out, Porthos at his heels.


Continued in: Duty Vs Desire (War)

~the end~