Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive

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Title: Moment's Reflection

Author: Mareel

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Author's Web site: http://www.geocities.com/bdebpr/

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Archer/Reed

Rating: PG

Category: Slash

Sequel to: Moment by The Moonmoth

Next Story in Series: A Moment Realised by Alia

Summary: The moment, redefined.

Author's Notes: SThis is a sequel to "Moment" by The Moonmoth. After reading "Moment", I told The Moonmoth that it was unbearably sad to leave it at that. She pointed out that since the ending was ambiguous, there was always hope. With her permission and encouragement, here it is. My thanks to her for so freely sharing her words with me so that Malcolm could wind his thoughts around them.reflecting, refracting them.

Archived to Reed's Armory on 07/01/2005.


Just a moment ago you were kissing him...the first, perhaps the only time. He couldn't know the hesitation in your movements, the leaden lump in your throat or the one in your heart. And you are grateful to be spared the sight of anger behind his closed eyes, and of the guilt he'll surely feel. But you miss the depths that draw you into those green eyes, that make you feel a loss each time you turn away.

Now you take his hand, hyperaware of his slow steady pulse. Alive, despite all. Transported to safety moments before certain death, injured, recovering in Sickbay. Your own heart is beating faster, memories rushing back, renewed anger warring with relief at his survival. It should have been you lying there unconscious, pulled back from death.

Or not. But he wouldn't allow that.

Some of it is anger at yourself, for having chosen to argue the point with him, trying to make him understand. Too many feelings surfaced in that moment...your words to him vented anger long-denied. Anger for every other time he chose to risk himself, for all the times you chose not to fight about it. Guilty anger for the times you mourned, in silence and alone, until you learned that he'd survived. And for knowing that all those other times, other missions, it should have been you.

But maybe he knew this time, knew that you wouldn't let him do it. Not without a fight. How could you fail to anticipate the way he'd react when you argued his decision, fail to realize that he'd do whatever necessary to keep you alive, safe? He drew his tactics straight from your own book, having learned too much in these past hard months. It makes you strangely sad, the lost innocence. You would have borne that burden for him, gladly.

Reaching out to lightly touch his cheek with your fingertips, you finally face the rest of your memories of just before he...In that one moment, that defining moment, the last moment you remember with perfect clarity, you saw something in his eyes that had nothing at all to do with anger...

And you'd give anything, everything, to see it again.

Leaning down, you rest your forehead against his, breathe in his steady breath, almost content for now to know he lives. But it's not quite enough. Too many moments have passed between you, the touches lingering after his hand was gone, his eyes compelling you to meet them, daring you to drown there. And you always turned away. Or he did, but you knew he sought some sign from you. One you've always been afraid to give...but have forgotten why.

So you bend to kiss him again. His lips are still, just slightly parted. You notice how your own lips fit against them and wonder for a moment how it would feel if he could return your kiss, if his mouth would open to you or if yours would yield to him. Not for the first time, these thoughts--they've kept you sleepless so many nights, then filled your dreams.

At a movement so slight it might have been imagined, you linger for a long moment, lips just touching, eyes closed, waiting. Feeling it again, you pull back enough to meet his eyes, open now and searching. He tries to lift his head.

You know he wants to speak, that you both still have much to say. But there will be time for that. For the words. For what lies beyond words. For all of it. There'll be no more hiding from each other...nothing left to hide. You press your lips to his again, in full awareness of the moment,

A string of intricately connected, intertwined moments has led you to this one...led us to this one. This one defining moment.

A definition of love...this is the moment. The first one.


~the end~


If you enjoyed this story, the author would appreciate your feedback.


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