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

Title: O Captain My Captain! (Famine)

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: Stepping Stones (Pestilence)

Summary: Reed shares a hobby with Archer

Comments: The fourth in a series in answer to the EntSTSlash (Leah) challenge,"The Four Horsemen." This story deals with the horseman "Famine".

The excerpt Malcolm reads first in this story is from a Poem by Australian Poet, Adam Lindsay Gordon titled, "Ye Wearie Wayfarer, hys Ballad."

Gordon lived and died in the 19th Century in New South Wales and has long been an inspiration to me. The Poem 'Ars Longa' that is mentioned here is a particular favourite of mine. Adam Lindsay Gordon's works can be found in full online at
http://whitewolf.newcastle.edu.au/words/authors/G/GordonAdamLindsay/index.html

The Poem "O Captain! my Captain!" was written as a tribute to Abraham Lincoln by Walter Witman. It inspired the bunny for this tale.

Also, I was inspired by shi_shi's "Deimos" and Pretzelduck's series, insomnia/act of faith -- I think that was the names of them; major thanks go to those two writers. (I'm sure you will see which passages).

Dubious honor to TPTB for suggesting in canon that Reed is bookish and likes to read. However, why didn't he say he reads when Archer asked him about hobbies? Isn't reading considered a hobby anymore in 2151??

Archived to Reed's Armory on 11/20/2003
First posted 11/15/2002

O Captain My Captain! (Famine)

The small table in Captain Archer's quarters was strewn with the used dishes
from dinner. Muted light from a small lamp on the desk illuminated the cabin
but left enough shadows to create an intimate atmosphere for the two men who
relaxed on the sofa, a padd held between them as Reed read aloud.

"Question not, but live and labour
Till yon goal be won,
Helping every feeble neighbour,
Seeking help from none;
Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone,
Kindness in another's trouble,
Courage in your own.

Courage, comrades, this is certain,
All is for the best-
There are lights behind the curtain-
Gentiles, let us rest.
As the smoke-rack veers to seaward,
From "the ancient clay",
With its moral drifting leeward,
Ends the wanderer's lay."

"That's a nice poem," Archer said softly.

Reed nodded, "It's always been one of my favourites," he replied.

"You read well, Malcolm," Archer said softly, gazing into Reed's eyes as the
lieutenant turned to look at him.

"My Grandfather used to read to me when I was a boy," Reed volunteered. "I
suppose I gained my love of reading and poetry from him." He smiled.
"Actually, I have another poem here," He flicked through the pages of the
padd. "One that was a particular favourite with my grandfather, by Walter
Witman, in tribute to your president Lincoln...ah, here it is..." He
paused a moment, then began to read in the measured tones he had used with
the other poem.

"O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead."

Archer let his eyes close as he listened to the poem. It was familiar to him
but he'd never heard it read with such conviction and feeling before. His
lips curved in a smile and he rested his head against the back of the sofa.
His mind drifted towards sleep as he listened to the soothing, rhythmic
cadence of Reed's voice and he relaxed deeper into the cushions.

"Captain? "Sir?"

Archer started, realizing he must have drifted to sleep and he sat up
straight quickly, rubbing at his eyes with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry," he
said and shook his head. "Rude of me,"

"I hope I wasn't boring you, Sir..."

Archer shook his head. "Jon," he said firmly. "Remember? Ranks at the door."

"Perhaps I should..."

"No!" Archer reached out and took hold of Reed's arm as the younger man made
to stand up. "Please don't go."

Reed blinked, glancing down at the hand on his arm, but he sank back into
the sofa. "I don't want to tire you too much; my life is forfeit if Phlox finds out I
wore you out. I'm supposed to be making sure you..." He trailed off, biting
his lip and Archer laughed softly.

"So Phlox put you up to this?"

"Not exactly."

Staring at the younger man, Archer was surprised, and delighted to note a
flush of pink stealing into his cheeks. "Malcolm?"

"It was my idea, S--Jon. I wanted to..."

"You wanted to bring me dinner and read poetry to me?" Archer couldn't hide
the broad smile that lit his features; he didn't want to hide it. "I'm
..."

"Well, you asked me..." Reed stopped and smiled shyly. "Sorry. Go on."

"No, it's all right. I asked you...?"

"What hobbies I pursue." Reed met his eyes. "I couldn't bring my collection
to show you, so I thought poetry was the next best thing."

Archer let his breath out on a happy sigh. "Thank you." He was sincere. His
questions about Reed's hobbies and interests had been genuine attempts to
gain more insight into the man, and that Reed had decided of his own
volition to share something that was obviously so special to him was more
than the captain could have hoped for. He reached for the padd and scanned
the text still on screen. "This deck where my captain lies, fallen cold and
dead," he read aloud and then looked into Reed's eyes. "I'm not dead,
Malcolm." He put the padd down on a side table and raised an eyebrow at the
younger man.

"I know that, Jon," Reed's eyes locked to his, unwavering.

"It's your job, as my armoury officer to see to it that I stay alive,"
Archer breathed, leaning closer to Reed on the sofa.

"Oh, yes," the lieutenant agreed. "A job I take very seriously." His eyelids
drooped over darkening eyes.

Archer thought he had never seen Reed look sexier or more seductive. He
licked his lips. "Alive and well and...happy," he whispered.

"Uh-hmm," a small nod and those tempting lips parted.

This time there would be no interruptions. Archer had taken the precaution
of closing out the comms so that only an urgent message from T'Pol or Hoshi
would reach him, and his cabin was locked. No one would call, or enter
without his authorization. He'd waited long enough to taste those lips, and
nothing would prevent him doing so tonight.

With a sigh, he lifted a hand to Reed's cheek, leaning closer still and
then, tenderly, almost a question, he touched Reed's lips with his own.

Reed didn't close his eyes, as their lips met and Archer liked that, it
spoke of the frankness of the man, and that he came to this moment with no
reservations.

Emboldened, he slipped his arms around the slight frame and drew Reed
closer, his explorations becoming more adventurous.

Now he saw those eyes slip closed as Reed gave himself fully into the kiss,
his lips parting further to allow Archer's tongue into his mouth.

Reed's tongue tasted of the pineapple he'd eaten for desert with ice cream
and there was another, more subtle flavour, a taste that was Reed; unique.

Spreading his hands out across Reed's back, Archer pressed closer, deepened
the kiss until he could hear his own breath, harsh in his ears, and could
feel the warmth of his partner's breath against his cheek. He growled deep
in his throat and finally, reluctantly broke off the contact, pulling back
but keeping his arms around the younger man. He looked deep into the dark
blue-grey eyes, noting the dilated pupils and flushed skin.

"I've wanted this so long," Archer said, his voice sounding harsh and raspy
to his own ears.

Reed licked his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment, as though tasting a
new food that he'd never had before. After a moment, he smiled. "You taste
good," he said in a breathy undertone.

It was too much for Archer, the whispered words driving the hunger in him to
fever pitch. He swiftly captured the yielded lips again, rougher this time,
surer; he plundered the willing mouth until he had tasted every hidden
recess and then drew back panting. "Malcolm, I want..."

Reed shook his head and gently drew himself out of Archer's embrace. "Not
tonight, Jon," he murmured. "It's too soon. You're barely out of sickbay."

Archer was about to protest but he noted the determined look in Reed's eyes
and relented with a sigh. "Stay though?" he asked.

Reed considered. "All right," he said at length. "But only to make sure you
rest, understood?"

"Yes sir," the captain said with a smirk.

"Come on then," Reed got to his feet and picked up the padd. "I'll read you
to sleep."

Archer moved to the bed, slowly stripping out of the casual clothes he'd
worn for their dinner, hoping to tantalize the young Brit with the sight of
the body he was prepared to deny himself of.

"Bribery, chicanery and scheming won't work," Reed informed him; he stripped
to his skivvies and slipped into the bed. "I'm quite impervious to all of
that -- part of my training." He ended with an amused grin as the captain
turned to look at him.

"You're no fun!" Archer accused.

"I'm a security officer," Reed retorted. "I am supposed to be dangerous,
not fun."

"Oh, you're that, all right," Archer said sincerely. He climbed into the bed
next to the younger man and settled himself comfortably.

Reed nestled closer, resting his head on Archer's shoulder as he flicked
through the pages of the padd and finally settled on a poem to read. "This
is another of Gordon's poems," he said, "He was an Australian poet, and he
wrote the one I read to you earlier, this one is titled, 'Ars Longa,' it's
quite lovely..."

Smiling, Archer nodded and settled to listen to the soothing voice. He was
happy just to have Reed here, in his bed, even if nothing else came of it
for now. The man's presence was a gift that Archer would not have hoped to
gain just a few days before. He sighed with contentment and closed his eyes.

~the end~