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Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive .. |
Title: Land of the Living
Author: Rusty Armour
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Enterprise
Rating: PG-13
Category: Gen
Summary: Tucker and Reed are forced to face some issues they failed to resolve during their shuttlepod adventure.
Spoilers: Shuttlepod One, Breaking the Ice, Fortunate Son
Comments: I know there have been a lot of "Shuttlepod One" post-eps, but this story started brewing in my brain a few days after I first saw the episode and it has refused to leave me alone since!
Archived to Reed's Armory on 04/20/2003.
"So what are you saying? That you'd rather have Enterprise find the two of us dead in here?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. If there's one chance in a thousand that they saw our impulse engine explode, that they increased their speed, I'll take that chance. I've invested far too much time trying to figure you out, Mr. Tucker. I'm not about to accept that it was all for nothing."
Captain's Log: November 12, 2151
Despite an almost fatal bout with hypothermia, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed appear to be on the mend. Doctor Phlox released them from sickbay this morning after instructing them to rest. Knowing them both as I do, I'm sure they've disobeyed the good doctor's orders already. Trip's probably already inside engineering making sure the ship doesn't blow up, while Malcolm's probably in the armoury making sure all the weapons are on-line in case we find something we do need to blow up.
Although their physical health seems to be improving, I think their emotional recovery might take a little longer. When I met with them to discuss the events of the past few days, they were reluctant to speak about what had happened on the shuttlepod. Hell, "reluctant" is an understatement. Trip summed up their adventure in about ten words. Malcolm...Well, Malcolm was Malcolm.
"So to make a long story short, the Tesnian ship crashed into Enterprise, causing us to lose the door to one of our launch bays, and creating all that debris you saw on the asteroid," Archer said, pushing a padd containing the information across the desk. "The Tesnian ship was destroyed on impact. Fortunately, they made it to their escape pods in time and there were no casualties. We were able to return them safely to their planet before returning to the asteroid belt."
"So the debris we saw on the asteroid was from their ship?" Reed asked. "But we saw a door from one of the launch bays...Oh. It was torn off when the two ships collided..."
"Smart boy. Send him to the head of the class," Tucker muttered sarcastically. Archer glanced at the Chief Engineer in surprise then focused his attention back on Reed.
"Yes, that's right, Malcolm. It shook us up a bit, but that was really the extent of the damage. I'm afraid our little adventure pales in comparison to yours. It must have been quite an ordeal." Reed opened his mouth but Trip jumped in before he could answer.
"We thought Enterprise had been destroyed, we found out we were running out of air, and we froze our butts off. That pretty much covers it, Captain."
"I think there's a little more to it than that," Archer said, trying to keep his patience.
"Yeah? Like what?" Archer sighed.
"I don't know, Trip. I was kinda hoping you could tell me that."
"Look, if you really want the gory details, listen to Malcolm's grim reaper logs. They're worth a laugh if nothing else." Reed dropped the padd he had just picked up from the desk, his eyes going wide.
"Relax, Malcolm, I've got your logs right here," Archer said quickly.
"Did you...?"
"No. No, of course not. I only listened to the very beginning to see who it belonged to. Nice eulogy by the way." Reed blushed and took the proffered disk gratefully.
"I can't imagine what it must have been like for you two in that shuttlepod," Archer spoke, studying Reed closely. "It must have been a terrible experience."
"God! Can we just skip the post-mortem on this thing and move on? I'm sick to death of talking about it!" Tucker cried.
"But that's just it. You're not talking about it."
"Maybe because there's nothing to talk about! We got through it. We're alive. We're okay. And as far as I'm concerned, nothing significant happened. I just want to forget about the whole thing and put it behind me." Tucker rose from Archer's couch. "Can I go now?"
"Trip." Archer looked at Tucker helplessly. His friend wouldn't budge. Archer sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You can go," he said at last. Tucker didn't meet his eyes, just headed straight out the door. Archer looked at Reed and was surprised to see the hurt expression on the Armoury Officer's face.
"Malcolm?" Reed forced a smile and stood.
"I suppose that's that, then."
"Just because Trip doesn't want to talk about it doesn't mean you can't."
"I have nothing to add, sir. Commander Tucker pretty much covered everything."
"But he didn't say anything!"
"Then maybe he's right. Perhaps there is nothing to say."
"Fine. Have it your own way," Archer said, finally losing his patience altogether.
"Sir?"
"What?" Archer snapped.
"May I be dismissed?" Reed asked quietly.
"Sure. You know your way to the door."
"Thank you, sir." Reed walked towards the door briskly, and Archer immediately regretted losing his temper.
"Malcolm." Reed paused, his hand hovering above the door panel. "If you ever need to talk--"
"I'm fine, sir," Reed said. Then his hand hit the door panel and he disappeared from sight.
I talked to Doctor Phlox about Trip and Malcolm, and he seemed to think their behaviour was not unusual given what they had just gone through. He said I should give them some time to process everything that has happened. I realize that Phlox isn't a psychologist and he still has a lot to learn about humans, but I trust his judgment. I'll give them their space and won't push the subject. I just hope that if they ever need to talk about it, they'll remember that my door is always open.
"I'm telling you, he almost bit her head off. He told her that a first year cadet could have done a better job than she did."
"I don't know. It doesn't sound like Trip. Are you sure it's not just a rumour?"
"Hoshi, I saw Hess afterwards. She did not look happy. Do you mind if I try one of those?"
"What? Oh, sure. Go ahead." Mayweather's fork swooped down and snatched a spring roll off Hoshi's plate.
"He shouldn't even be on duty, should he?" Hoshi asked, spearing a spring roll herself.
"He's not--not officially, anyway. He and Malcolm are supposed to be taking it easy for the next couple of days."
"Ha! Like that's going to happen! We're talking about the two biggest workaholics on the ship! Doctor Phlox would have to sedate them first!"
"Looks like it's already too late." Mayweather nodded his head in the direction of the beverage dispenser. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was getting a cup of coffee. Hoshi managed to catch his eye and waved. Reed stared at her for a moment then began to walk towards them.
"It's great to see you again, sir!" Mayweather called out enthusiastically.
"Perhaps you could say that a little louder, Travis. I don't think everyone quite heard you," Reed said, setting down his tray. Hoshi noticed that he remained standing, as if he wasn't sure whether he wished to sit down at the table or bolt from the mess hall. Then she realized that Reed had probably been hoping to find a quiet table in the corner and become invisible. She had just sabotaged that plan.
Hoshi didn't need to look around to know that several eyes had drifted their way. Judging by the stiff set of Reed's shoulders, he could feel the stares too.
She had seen him briefly in sickbay, though he had been sleeping. He still looked pale and his eyes, which were now open, seemed haunted.
"Take a seat, Lieutenant," Hoshi said. Reed looked down at the chair in surprise, as if he had forgotten it was there. Then he pulled it back and sat down. He took a long sip of coffee.
"So, did anything interesting happen while I was away?" Reed asked, sounding as casual as if he had just returned from a vacation. Hoshi almost choked on a spring roll, and Mayweather broke into a short burst of laughter.
"Sir!" Mayweather exclaimed. "You almost died in a shuttlepod and you're asking us what's new? I think we should be the ones asking you that question!" Reed shrugged noncommittally and started to pick at his meal.
"Uh, Travis, maybe Lieutenant Reed doesn't want to talk about it," Hoshi said, still sensing Reed's discomfort. She swept her fingers across her neck in a cutting motion.
"Oh! Oh, sir, I'm sorry. I didn't even--"
"It's okay," Reed spoke quickly. "Besides, there's nothing really to talk about. The shuttlepod was hit by those...those micro-singularities, we lost most of our oxygen supply, and we turned down the environmental controls to conserve what little air we had left. When we discovered that Enterprise would be returning to the asteroid field in two days, we jettisoned the engine and set it to self-destruct, hoping you'd pick up speed and get to us in time. You did and we were rescued. I think you know the rest."
Reed took a sip of his coffee, and Hoshi wondered if the lieutenant wished it was something stronger. She glanced at Mayweather, who was shaking his head.
"Sir, that's almost exactly the same thing Commander Tucker said when I asked him about it this morning." Reed frowned for an instant and began to pick at his meal again.
"Commander Tucker doesn't wish to talk about it. Perhaps we should respect his wishes."
"And what about your wishes, Lieutenant?" Hoshi said. "What do you want?"
"Me?" Reed asked, startled. "What difference does that make? It won't change anything."
"It might make you feel better," Mayweather suggested.
"About what?"
"About what happened."
"I told you already: nothing happened."
"If that's true then why won't you and Trip talk about it?" Mayweather persisted.
"Because there's nothing to talk about!" Reed snapped. A few heads turned, but Reed didn't see them. He had decided to finally concentrate on his meal instead. Hoshi looked at Mayweather pointedly. Mayweather sighed.
"Sir, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed it. I was just trying to..." He trailed off when he realized Reed wasn't listening to him but staring down at his plate, his utensils hovering in mid-air.
"Sir?" Hoshi asked in concern.
"It's meatloaf," Reed said, his eyes still fixed on the plate. "Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I...I can't believe it."
"I can't believe it either, sir. I thought you had more sense than to pick the re-sequenced meatloaf!" Mayweather joked. Hoshi glared at him. Reed hadn't heard him, apparently.
"Maybe you meant to pick something else and grabbed this by mistake," Hoshi said gently.
"I had the Chilean sea bass. It was Trip who had the meatloaf."
"On the shuttlepod?" Hoshi asked, though she already knew the answer. Reed raised his head in surprise and found himself gazing at two worried faces.
"I'm-I'm sorry. I'm sounding like a bloody idiot." He rose quickly from his chair, but Hoshi grabbed his wrist.
"No, you're not," she said firmly. Reed stared down at her for a moment then pulled his wrist free.
"I'm afraid I'm not very good company today." He turned and walked away, leaving half a cup of coffee and the plate he had barely touched.
"So are you going to talk to Captain Archer or am I?" Mayweather asked as they both watched Reed leave the mess hall.
"You can talk to the Captain," Hoshi said. "I'm going to see Doctor Phlox."
His ears and cheeks stung. His fingers were cramping. He had started to lose the feeling in his legs. The bourbon had burned a fiery trail down his throat, but had provided no warmth. The man beside him was trembling. He had almost dropped the bottle, his hands had been shaking so much.
"If there were only one of us, he'd have 20 hours, wouldn't he?"
"Great idea. Why don't you climb up into the airlock and seal yourself in?"
"That's just what I was thinking...except for one tiny difference." Tucker rose slowly, pounding his legs to regain some sensation.
"The galaxy seems to be giggling again, only this time it's laughing at you, Malcolm." Tucker pulled out his phase pistol and stunned the other officer. Then he pulled the lieutenant from the floor of the shuttlepod and hefted him over his shoulder. His legs were shaking from coldness and strain, but Tucker made it up the ladder with his burden.
"Seeya around, Malcolm," he said, dumping Reed into the airlock.
"NO!" Tucker cried. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding. He looked around in confusion for several seconds before he realized that he was in engineering and that he had fallen asleep at his workstation. He closed his eyes in relief. It had only been a dream. He wasn't running out of air or freezing to death. He hadn't killed Malcolm.
Tucker laughed quietly, shaking his head. I'm cracking up, he thought. I'm losing it.
"Commander?" Tucker leapt from his chair and whirled around.
"Holy sh-T'Pol, you scared the hell out of me!" he shouted. The Vulcan regarded Tucker quizzically. She would have lifted an eyebrow but both were already raised.
"You weren't at dinner tonight," she stated.
"I grabbed something from the mess hall and ate down here."
"The Captain was..." T'Pol searched for the right word. "Disappointed," she said at last.
"Yeah? Well, life's full of disappointment. The Captain's a big boy now. He should know that." Tucker turned away from her and sat back down at his workstation.
"Are you angry with the Captain?" T'Pol asked, standing at his elbow.
"What? No. I just didn't feel like going through the third degree again."
"The third degree?"
"You know. About what happened on the shuttlepod."
"Would it not make you feel better to...to talk about what happened?"
"Ah, hell, T'Pol, not you too!" Tucker said, throwing down his screwdriver in frustration. T'Pol moved silently around his workstation so that she was standing in front of him.
"If what happened on the shuttlepod is bothering you, would it not help to talk about it?"
"Who says it's botherin' me? I'm just sittin' here mindin' my own business and trying to get some work done." Tucker's eyes narrowed as he studied the Vulcan's face. "Is that why you're here, Sub-commander? Because you think we should talk?"
"I came, Commander, because I was concerned." Now Tucker raised an eyebrow.
"Concerned? You? But isn't that an emotion?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, it is a state of mind," T'Pol said, ignoring his sarcasm.
"Oh, really? I'll have to remember that the next time you accuse me of being irrational."
"You're being irrational now, Commander."
"Oh? And how do you figure that?"
"You're working when Doctor Phlox ordered you and Lieutenant Reed to rest."
"In case you've forgotten, Lieutenant Reed and I almost had ourselves a permanent rest. I think I'm entitled to a bit of activity after that, and layin' on my ass starin' at the ceiling all day is not my idea of fun. I'd go nuts."
"According to the stories that have been spreading around the ship, you have gone 'nuts,' Commander."
"Stories?" Tucker stared at T'Pol for a few seconds, confused. Then he understood what she was talking about.
"Look, I apologized to Lieutenant Hess. I even excused her from her shift an hour early to try to make up for it."
"I'm certain you did what was right. What concerns me is why you should display such behaviour in the first place."
"I lost my temper. I-I say stupid things when I get mad."
"I have seen you when you're angry. This sounds different."
"Different? I lost my temper, that's all. I was blowing off steam and I-I took it out on her." Tucker looked away from T'Pol, whose gaze was unflinching. "I know it was wrong, and I'm not proud of what I did, but what happened happened and there's nothing I can do to change that." Tucker scrubbed at his face wearily and held back a yawn. "So...if that's all you have to say, T'Pol--"
"I think you should talk to someone." Tucker's forehead creased.
"What? You mean like anger management counselling or something?"
"No, Commander. I think you should talk to someone about what happened on the shuttlepod." Tucker shook his head and feigned laughter.
"So the Captain did send you here. I might have known. Look, let's just save ourselves a whole lot of trouble here and just forget about it or, better still, you report back to the Captain that we had our little heartfelt talk and that I'm feeling much better now."
Tucker stared at the new prototype for the subspace amplifier he had been tinkering with. He slowly lifted his screwdriver again, silently banishing the Vulcan sub-commander.
"The Captain did not send me, Commander, and I am incapable of having a 'heartfelt talk' or lying about such a discussion should it occur. I came here of my own volition."
Tucker put down the screwdriver slowly and stared at T'Pol as if she was speaking another language.
"Doctor Phlox informed me that it helps to talk about one's problems. I believe it is a common custom among humans. I know that I found it...useful to talk to you when I had to make a decision about my marriage."
"Well, uh...that's real sweet of you to offer, T'Pol, but I ain't got any problems."
"Perhaps you would prefer to talk to Lieutenant Reed as he'll have a better perspective on--"
"For Christ's sake, T'Pol, I don't have any problems!" Tucker shouted. "If I did I certainly wouldn't talk to Malcolm about them!"
"Why not?"
"Why not? Because I just spent two days trapped in a shuttlepod with the man! I'm sick to death of him! If I'm forced to spend any more time with him, I really will lose it!"
"Lose 'it'?" T'Pol questioned.
"My mind, my marbles, all my little grey cells. I'd go mad, crazy, insane, or any other word you'd choose to describe it!"
"Commander, if you have concerns about your sanity--" Tucker jumped up from his workstation and grabbed T'Pol by the shoulders.
"I don't want to talk about it," he hissed. T'Pol met his gaze squarely, before breaking away and taking a step back.
"I think I should leave," she stated.
"And I think that's the first logical thing you've said since you got here." The Vulcan nodded curtly. She started to walk away, only turning when she was near the door.
"Commander, if you ever do need to talk--"
"It won't be to you!"
"No," T'Pol said quietly, "I suppose it wouldn't." She straightened her shoulders and favoured Tucker with another nod.
"Good night, Commander."
Reed jerked awake. For several seconds he lay, stunned, sweating, gasping for breath. He fought off the blankets that were tangled around his legs and kicked himself free. His eyes darted around blindly, his hand groping for the light. He blinked, taking inventory.
He was in his quarters. He was on Enterprise. The ship hadn't exploded.
He pushed himself off his bed and stumbled to the head. He stared at the pale man with wild eyes and messy hair, trying to assess whether this reflection was his own. He raised his right hand experimentally, and the man facing him lifted his left one in unison. Then, with a splash of cold water, reality reasserted itself, and Reed was jolted completely from his nightmare.
He dried his face quickly, glaring sternly at his reflection.
You are a Starfleet officer, the Armoury Officer, for God's sake. Enterprise is safe, intact. You and Trip have been rescued. Why are you acting like such a poncey little drama queen? Pull yourself together, man!
He shook his head in chagrin and walked to his tiny closet in search of his uniform.
Reed knew from past experience that he wouldn't be returning to the land of Nod any time soon. If he went back to his bed, he would only toss restlessly for half an hour before admitting defeat. It made more sense to use that half hour for something useful: he could get some tea. When Reed ended up in engineering instead of the mess hall, he was almost as surprised to be there as Tucker was to see him.
"What are you doin' here?" Tucker asked, immediately rising from his workstation. Reed smiled sheepishly and blushed.
"I-I was just taking a stroll and found myself here."
"At 2:00 in the morning?" Tucker said in disbelief.
"Well, uh..." Reed shuffled his feet. "My body is still adjusting to...uh...You're up too, Commander," he pointed out.
"I'm a night owl. I always have been," Tucker stated, somewhat defensively. Reed was tempted to remind his superior that a lack of sleep tended to make him "cranky," but decided that it would be wiser not to bring up that subject again.
"How are you?" Reed asked instead.
"I'm fine. Wonderful. Peachy. Perfect." Reed nodded his head slightly, his eyes locked on Tucker.
"I heard about what happened with Lieutenant Hess."
"You and everyone else on the ship," Tucker said wearily. He crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously mimicking Reed's stance. His arms returned to his sides when he realized what he had done.
"I apologized to Lieutenant Hess. I've done everything I can think of to make it up to her. What the hell else am I supposed to do?" Tucker suddenly snapped.
"Maybe you're trying too hard," Reed suggested quietly.
"Yeah, maybe." Tucker failed to sound convincing. Reed stepped forward tentatively, laying a hand on the other man's shoulder.
"After everything we've just been through, it's not surprising that you're feeling a little...out of sorts. You should have seen me in the mess hall earlier. I--"
Tucker suddenly shrugged off Reed's hand and stepped back. "You just won't let it go, will you? You can't let it die quietly. You have to make a whole funeral procession out of it...God, you really are the grim reaper. No wonder you can't get close to anybody if all you ever see is death!"
Reed flinched, visibly, pain flashing in his eyes. It was then that Tucker knew he had gone too far.
"Ah, hell. Malcolm..." Reed turned on his heel and walked straight out of engineering. Tucker started to follow him then stopped. With his current record, he was afraid he'd only make things worse if he tried to apologize. He walked slowly back to his workstation and stared at the amplifier.
Captain's Log: November 13, 2151
I'm beginning to wonder if giving Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed time and space to deal with their experiences on the shuttlepod was such a good idea. They've only been back for about a day, and four members of my crew have already come to see me with concerns about them.
Ensign Mayweather was the first. He reported that Lieutenant Reed had seemed distant, withdrawn. I reminded Travis that Malcolm is often distant and withdrawn on the best of days. Travis said that Malcolm was even more distant and withdrawn than usual and that he had freaked out over meatloaf. I have to admit that this made me worry. I had always assumed that my Armoury Officer had more sense than to eat re-sequenced meatloaf...
Apparently Hoshi consulted with Doctor Phlox before she came to me. She had also voiced concerns about Malcolm, but Phlox told her the same thing he told me: give it time. Hoshi found this unacceptable but I didn't know what else to do but repeat Phlox's words. Patients who have undergone significant trauma require time to heal both physically and emotionally. It's not a process that occurs overnight. I don't think I succeeded in making Hoshi feel any better, but it gave me some comfort. That is until Lieutenant Hess showed up.
She caught me just as I was coming off my shift. It turned out that Trip had also been acting out-of-character. I pressed her for details and she admitted, albeit reluctantly, that Trip had yelled at her for her poor performance while he was away. She was quick to add that he had apologized but, as Lieutenant Hess had acted more than capably in Trip's stead, I felt this was inexcusable behaviour on Trip's part. Then Lieutenant Hess begged me not to say anything, that she hadn't come to snitch on him but only because she was concerned. Yes, there's that word again. I asked her to keep an eye on him and report back to me if Trip did anything else that seemed out of the ordinary.
When Sub-commander T'Pol showed up at my quarters around 23:00, my first thought was that the ship was under attack. I don't know why I was surprised when she announced that she had concerns about Commander Tucker. She had just had an argument with him in engineering. I reminded her that she and Commander Tucker often had disagreements, that it was pretty much the norm on any given day. She informed me that this argument had not been normal, even for them.
For a Vulcan, she seemed a little rattled. She hid it well, of course. If I didn't know her the way I do now, I might not have seen it at all. I promised to talk to Trip, which I have done. I'd rather not discuss the details. Suffice it to say that I kicked him out of engineering and ordered him to rest.
If Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are given a clean bill of health by Doctor Phlox in two days time, I'll allow them to return to their regular duties. If they are not fit for duty at that time, Doctor Phlox may have to look into other forms of treatment.
- Two Days Later -
"Well, it's not everyday I get to bring a new life into the world. I have to admit, Captain, that I'm quite excited by the prospect," Phlox said. Archer smiled.
"Well, it's not everyday that the doctor on a freighter ship is left to deliver her own baby. I'm sure you'll be a welcome sight."
"I've never seen a baby being delivered before. Think I can watch?" a voice inquired from shuttlepod two. Mayweather had started performing a pre-flight inspection, double- and triple-checking all the equipment. After what had happened to Tucker and Reed, no one was taking any chances, especially a conscientious pilot like Travis Mayweather.
"Ensign, as it is apparent that Dr. Phelps is severely under-staffed, you won't only be watching but assisting me as well."
"Say what?" Mayweather's head suddenly popped out of the hatch. "A-assisting you?"
"That is correct." Archer hadn't realized it was possible before, but apparently a black man could turn green. Mayweather stumbled out of the shuttlepod in a daze.
"He's...he's not serious is he, sir?" Mayweather pleaded. At a loss as to what else he could say, Archer patted the young ensign on the back.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, Travis," he said before making his retreat from the launch bay.
"Captain!"
"Captain, about Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker," Phlox said, jumping in before Mayweather had a chance to voice any further objections. Archer stopped in mid-stride and turned. "I have already informed them that the examinations have been postponed until I return from the Lazarus. I suggested that they both see me after their shifts."
"So it's okay for them to go back on duty?" Archer asked.
"I don't see why not. If they've followed my advice and taken adequate rest, they should be fine."
"Ah. Right..." Archer sounded skeptical.
"Of course," Phlox added quickly, "if either Mr. Reed or Mr. Tucker should feel tired or unwell during the course of the day--"
"I'll be keeping my eyes on both of them. I've already told them they have my permission to end their shifts early."
"Good, good. We wouldn't want them overdoing it on their first day back on duty, would we?" Phlox said cheerfully. "I really don't want them back in sickbay again for an extended visit if at all possible. They're both terrible patients."
"I'd like nothing better than to keep them out of sickbay, Doctor."
"Of course. But you will make sure they come to sickbay after their shifts?"
"They'll be there, even if I have to drag them."
"Excellent! You know, you humans really are most remarkable creatures."
"Well, uh...thanks. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be...?"
"Why, yes. Mustn't keep Dr. Phelps waiting. Come along, Ensign." Mayweather shot Archer one last pleading look before being dragged into the shuttlepod by Phlox. A grinning Archer shook his head and started walking back to the bridge.
As the lift door opened, Archer's eyes immediately sought out the tactical station. As if sensing the Captain's approach, Reed lifted his gaze from the monitor in front of him.
"Hello, sir," he said quietly, favouring Archer with the briefest flutter of a smile.
"Hi, Malcolm. Welcome back." The smile appeared again, genuine if a little forced.
"It's good to be back, sir."
"Yes, I'm sure it is." Archer sat in his chair slowly, his eyes still fixed on Reed. He hadn't seen the Armoury Officer in almost two days. He had been hoping it was because Reed had been following Phlox's orders and resting, but Reed still looked pale and tired, the lines on his face more pronounced.
"Malcolm, if at any time today you should feel--"
"I'm fine, sir," Reed stated, a little too quickly.
"But if you start feeling--"
"I'll let you know." Reed's eyes were glued to the monitor, though Archer could feel everyone else on the bridge staring at him. He cleared his throat.
"Any word from the shuttlepod?" he asked Hoshi. Reed's head jerked up. That got his attention, Archer thought grimly.
"The shuttlepod just left the launch bay, sir." Archer nodded, trying to keep his gaze from slipping back to Reed again.
He knew that Reed was probably feeling self-conscious enough without his captain checking on him every 30 seconds. Just because Reed didn't get on well with his parents, didn't necessarily mean he needed a mother hen. Nevertheless, Archer shot a quick glance at Reed. The Armoury Officer was focused intently on his work. Archer held back a sigh. It was going to be a long shift.
"It was fantastic! I had no idea it would be so-so incredible!" Archer beamed at Mayweather. The ensign's enthusiasm was contagious. Even Reed had lifted his eyes from his monitor and smiled.
"So," Archer ventured, trying to hide a sly grin, "if Doctor Phlox ever needs to deliver another baby--"
"Not a chance, sir!" Mayweather said, then he swirled his chair around to face the helm as if to emphasize his point.
"But what about the perfect little lashes, the tiny, tiny fingernails?" Hoshi asked mischievously.
"No."
"That magical bond between a mother and her baby?"
"No."
"The blood? The screaming?"
"NO!"
"I thought you said it was 'fantastic,' Travis. 'Incredible,'" Archer teased, winking at Hoshi.
"It-it was. But I've seen it now so I don't have to...to do that again."
"What if you should marry yourself, Ensign?" T'Pol said. "Is it not customary on Earth for the father to be present during the birth?" Mayweather whipped around so quickly that he almost fell off his chair. Archer and Hoshi laughed and Reed smiled again, but T'Pol's face was expressionless.
"Sub-commander, if I didn't know any better..." Mayweather began. Then he shook his head. Obviously he found the idea of a Vulcan making a joke inconceivable.
"Travis, I realize that this can't compete with the miracle of birth, but there's a nebula about 500,000 kilometres from here. Sub-commander T'Pol thought we might like to see it."
"I'm on it, sir," Mayweather said, relieved that the Captain had decided to change the subject.
"I'm sending you the coordinates now," T'Pol stated.
"Got 'em."
"Fantastic. Set us a course, Mr. Mayweather," Archer said.
For an emotionally repressed Vulcan, T'Pol sure has good taste, Archer thought, as a thousand hues of blue and green filled the screen in front of him. He heard Hoshi gasp and even Mayweather, the resident boomer, seemed to take notice. Reed stared at the nebula in wonder, and Archer was sure he could detect a hint of smugness on T'Pol's face. Without conscious thought, Archer hit the comm button on his chair.
"Bridge to engineering," Archer spoke, before remembering that he and Tucker weren't on the best of terms at the moment and that the last real conversation they had shared had quickly turned into an argument.
# Tucker here. #
Too late.
"There's, uh...there's something I think you should see, Trip." There was a slight pause, and Archer wondered if Tucker was trying to concoct some excuse.
# I'll be right there. #
Or maybe not.
A few minutes later, Tucker was stepping off the lift, an awestruck expression on his face as he took in what was on the screen. He walked to his customary spot by the tactical station.
"It's like somebody dived into the ocean and stuck a piece of it here in space," Tucker said, still transfixed. "It's beautiful, Captain. Thank you."
"Why don't you stay awhile," Archer suggested. "Malcolm was about to launch a probe." Tucker's gaze suddenly flew to Reed, who was staring at his monitor even more intensely if that was possible.
"I'd like that," Tucker said quietly.
Reed began calculating the trajectory for the probe. Tucker looked over his shoulder for a moment. Reed still didn't look up or acknowledge Tucker's presence in any way. Archer had expected him to at least nod or make eye contact with the Chief Engineer, but Reed was ignoring him, his tense shoulders and taut jaw the only indications that Reed knew Tucker was standing beside him.
Tucker was the type of man who hated being ignored, but this time Tucker seemed resigned to his lot. Then it finally hit Archer. Malcolm was angry. No, not just angry: furious. What the hell had Trip done now?
"Sir, with your permission, I'm ready to launch the probe," Reed stated, breaking into Archer's thoughts.
"What? Oh. Oh, yes. Whenever you're ready, Mr. Reed."
"Aye, sir. If you'll just give me a moment...Damn."
"What is it?" Tucker asked, leaning forward again.
"Malcolm?" Archer prompted when Reed chose to block out Tucker's question.
"The scanners are off-line," Reed said wearily. "I'll take care of it."
"Hello! Chief Engineer here!" Tucker protested. Then he took a quick step forward, grabbing Reed's arm as the Armoury Officer swayed, his hand falling on the railing that separated his station from the Captain's chair.
"I'm fine," Reed snapped, shrugging off Tucker's hand.
"Like hell you are!"
"I must have stood up too quickly, lost my balance." "I've seen you leap out of that chair a dozen times and you've never lost your balance. Hell, you practically fainted!"
"I did not faint!"
"Oh? Then what would you call it?"
"All right, that's it! I've had it!" Archer shouted. Tucker and Reed looked at Archer in surprise, and Archer couldn't tell if they were shocked by his outburst or their own display of childish behaviour. The Captain rose slowly from his chair and crossed to Reed's station, placing both hands on the cool metal railing.
"Sickbay. Both of you. Now," he ordered.
"But, sir!"
"Why do I have to go to sickbay? I'm not the one who fainted!"
"I didn't faint!" Archer pounded his fist on the railing, and the other two men jumped.
"I don't care which one of you did or didn't faint," Archer growled. "The fact is you both look like hell. You're acting irrationally, and that kind of behaviour has no place on my bridge, engineering or the armoury. I thought if I gave you boys some space you could work it out. I was obviously mistaken." Archer took a deep breath. "You're both off the duty roster until further notice."
"Sir!" Archer raised a hand, staving off any protests.
"You're going to sickbay, gentlemen. Then we're going to have a nice long talk." Archer shot a glance at Reed. "All of us." Reed gulped and nodded, not quite meeting Archer's eyes. Tucker was even less cooperative.
"What about the scanners? They still need to be fixed," he said.
"I'll get someone on it right now. T'Pol can launch the probe. Sub-commander?" The Vulcan stood and moved swiftly towards the tactical station. Tucker and Reed stepped away from the console quickly. As T'Pol glided past them, Tucker bowed his head, a guilty expression on his face.
"For God's sake, Trip, is there anyone on this ship you haven't pissed off?" Archer demanded. T'Pol raised an eyebrow, and Reed looked away.
"Uh...I'm not sure, sir," Tucker admitted. Archer shook his head wearily.
"Go to sickbay. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Archer was in sickbay 15 minutes later. Doctor Phlox poked, prodded, scanned and questioned the two miserable officers sitting side by side on the biobed. Phlox managed to uncover the fact they hadn't been sleeping well, and that Reed had skipped breakfast that morning because he had overslept and was running late.
"Mr. Reed, I'm very disappointed in you," Phlox said. "I count on you to set a good example as far as eating breakfast goes. It is the most important meal of the day, and I've rarely known you to miss it."
"It was just one meal," Reed muttered to his boots.
"Really? I would have guessed that you had skipped more. I haven't seen you in the mess hall much lately, Lieutenant. I've seen you even less, Commander," he added, glancing at Tucker sharply.
"I've been eating in my quarters," Tucker said.
"Why?"
"'Cause I haven't felt like eatin' in the mess hall."
"I haven't felt much like eating at all, really," Reed admitted.
"No, I didn't think so," Phlox said. "It's one of the symptoms that sometimes crop up."
"Symptoms?" Archer asked. "Symptoms of what?"
"Post-traumatic stress syndrome."
"What?" Tucker exclaimed.
"I don't have post-traumatic stress syndrome!" Reed stated indignantly.
"Ah, but I'm afraid you do, Mr. Reed," Phlox said. "You both do."
"But I'd know if I had it, Doctor," Reed persisted stubbornly. "I've...I've gone through it before."
"Oh? And what were your symptoms?"
"Well...flashbacks."
"Yes."
"Nightmares."
"Hmm."
"A general feeling of anxiety and foreboding..." Reed closed his eyes. "Damn."
"You were saying, Mr. Reed?"
"All right, all right," the Armoury Officer grumbled. Phlox smiled and patted Reed's shoulder lightly.
"It's not entirely unexpected, Lieutenant, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of."
"Can you treat it?" Archer asked.
"Oh, yes. However, I think what these gentlemen need more than anything at the moment is sleep. I can give you both something if--"
"No!" Tucker and Reed answered in unison.
"Well, if you find you can't sleep, that you're having any trouble at all--"
"They'll come to you," Archer said, gazing sternly at his officers. "That's an order."
"Good. Perhaps they'll actually listen to you since they don't seem to listen to me."
"Oh, they'll be listening this time. Believe me."
"Well, if that's all for the moment, Captain, I'd like to contact the Lazarus and check on Dr. Phelps."
"I think we're finished here, Doctor, unless Mr. Tucker or Mr. Reed have anything else to say?" The two officers shook their heads.
"I'll contact the Lazarus, then. If you'll excuse me..." Archer barely noticed when Phlox left to seek refuge in his office. His eyes were still fixed on his officers.
Tucker was still fascinated by the floor, while Reed seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for his captain to explode. And Archer did want to explode. He wanted to shout at them for being the biggest pair of idiots he'd ever had the misfortune to encounter. He wanted to shake them until they talked, until they told him exactly what had happened on that shuttlepod. He wanted them to confide in him, to open up just a little bit, to let him in so he could at least try to help.
"Go to you quarters," Archer said quietly. "We'll have that talk in the morning."
Although Tucker was sure his legs were longer, he practically had to jog to keep up with Reed's brisk pace. Tucker knew that if he'd been born a wiser man, he might have had enough sense to leave Reed alone. But Tucker suddenly felt a desperate urge to talk to the other man. He had broken something. He needed to fix it.
Reed was in the lift. The doors were about to close.
Tucker leapt in just in time. Reed regarded him icily for a moment then focused on the doors. With his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his foot tapping impatiently, he looked more like some caged animal than a Starfleet officer. If Reed noticed that they had gone past Trip's deck, he said nothing.
The lift doors had barely been open a second before Reed burst through them, frightening two crewmen on the other side.
"Sorry," he muttered, brushing past them. Tucker smiled apologetically. Then he picked up his pace and tried to keep up with Reed.
Reed had reached his quarters and was keying in his door code quickly. Tucker just managed to squeeze through before the doors closed.
"Is there something I can help you with, Commander?"
"We need to talk," Tucker said, a little breathlessly.
"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?"
"That may be but I'm not leaving here till we do." Reed's jaw tightened.
"What could we possibly need to talk about, Commander?" Tucker stared at Reed in disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding!" Reed met his gaze. He wasn't smiling. "Well, about the shuttlepod, of course!"
"Why 'of course'? Is there something I'm supposed to remember?"
"I don't believe this."
"What don't you believe? You said it yourself, Commander. Nothing important happened."
"Oh, so this post-traumatic whatever-the-hell-we're-suffering-from syndrome is nothing either, is it? What have those nightmares of yours been about? Big fluffy clouds and rainbows?"
"Why the hell should you care?"
"Humour me."
"Humour you?" Reed's eyes narrowed. "How's this for a laugh? When I go to sleep, I see Enterprise explode. I see their faces. I hear their screams."
"I'm sorry."
"I've dreamt about you too, Commander. I had one nightmare that you had lost consciousness in the shuttlepod. You were freezing cold. When I touched your arm, it snapped off."
"Malcolm..."
"There have been times when it hasn't been nightmares. Sometimes I just don't want to go back to sleep because I'm afraid...afraid that--"
"Afraid that you won't wake up," Tucker answered. Reed stared at him, startled.
"You see, I understand 'cause I'm going through the same thing." Tucker almost reached out to touch Reed's shoulder then thought better of it.
"Why didn't you come to me?" he asked instead. "Maybe...maybe we could have worked through this together." Reed laughed sharply.
"What?" Tucker demanded.
"Look, we've had our little chat now, Commander. Why don't you go to your own quarters like a good little Starfleet officer before we get into even more trouble?" Tucker gritted his teeth.
"Do you have to keep doing that?"
"Doing what, Commander?"
"That! The-the sarcasm! Your-your constant need to call me 'Commander' every damn time you talk to me!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but unless your rank changes, I don't really have any other choice."
"You could call me 'Trip'," Tucker growled. Reed laughed again.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly do that: it would imply friendship and I wouldn't want to trouble you with that burden."
"Hey! I thought you said you were 'perhaps' my friend!"
"Yes, well, perhaps I was mistaken." Reed turned away from Tucker and walked over to the tiny desk he had set up along the far wall. He started rummaging through the drawer, pulling out a couple of data padds. Apparently, he was hoping that if he ignored Tucker he would go away. Tucker could feel himself losing the already tenuous grasp he had on his temper.
"What's the matter, Lieutenant? Afraid I might catch sight of another chink in the Armoury Officer's armour?" Reed said nothing, just slammed the drawer shut and pulled out his chair. Tucker grabbed it before Reed could sit down. "Maybe you didn't hear me the first time: I'm not leaving until we talk."
"I've said all I'm going to say," Reed hissed.
"Why can't you just talk to me?" Tucked pleaded. "You were able to talk to me on the shuttlepod."
"I thought I was going to die on the shuttlepod: it didn't really seem to matter what I said at the time!"
"It mattered to me."
"Like hell it did! Nothing I said meant anything to you!" Reed shouted. "I trusted you! I told you things I've never told anyone and you treated it all like some bloody joke! I offered you friendship and you threw it back in my face as if it meant nothing!"
The slap, when it came, was as much of a surprise to Tucker as it was to Reed. Then Tucker's legs buckled under him and he was sitting on the floor, cradling his nose in both hands. Reed gazed down at him with wide eyes before disappearing inside the head.
Tucker's nose throbbed sharply. He thought he could feel blood coursing from his nostrils, but he had no desire to remove his hands to check. He wasn't sure how long he sat in a haze of pain and confusion before Reed was kneeling beside him, trying to pry his hands away from his face.
"Trip, please..." Tucker let Reed pull his hands away, wincing as the Armoury Officer gasped.
"Oh, God, I think it's broken..." Tucker, who had suspected as much, shrugged and struggled to stand. Reed put an arm around his shoulders, applying a cold, wet towel to Tucker's nose.
"I realize you don't want to hear this now," Reed said, as he guided Tucker towards the door, "but I'm deeply sorry, sir. When you...when you report this incident to the Captain, please tell him it was an honour to serve with him and that I'd be more than happy to compile a list of temporary replacements until a new Armoury Officer can be found."
"What?" The door whooshed open, and Reed gave Tucker a gentle shove.
"Malcolm!" The door closed and Tucker found himself in the corridor outside Reed's quarters. He stood for a moment, staring at the door. Then he turned and ran smack into Archer.
"Oh, uh...hi," Tucker spoke through the wet towel.
"Trip? My God! What happened?"
"I kinda had a little accident..." Archer grasped Tucker by the shoulders and studied him intently. Then his eyes travelled to Reed's door, and Archer remembered where they were standing. He released Tucker's shoulders and placed his hand over Reed's door chime.
"Don't!" Tucker said, grabbing Archer's arm.
"I don't care what his problem is. This...this is inexcusable, Trip!"
"But it wasn't his fault...not completely anyway. I-I sort of provoked him."
"Provoked him?"
"I, uh...slapped him."
"You slapped him?" Archer stared at Tucker incredulously. "What the hell is going on with you two?" He reached for the door chime again and Tucker stopped him.
"Just give him a bit more time, will ya? Trust me, he needs it, and-and there's something I need to talk to you about."
"Now? You want to talk to me now?" Archer asked in disbelief.
"Yeah. There's something you really need to know." Archer looked at Reed's door again, clearly torn.
"You could escort me to sickbay at least, couldn't you?"
"I'm very impressed. It's nice to know that our Armoury Officer has such a strong right hook," Phlox said as he examined Tucker's nose.
"Yeah, it's mighty comfortin'," Tucker commented sarcastically. He shifted uncomfortably on the biobed then tried to sit up when Phlox stepped away to pick up an instrument. Phlox pushed him back down.
"Keep still please, Mr. Tucker. I'm about to set the bones."
"And then it'll be fixed?"
"Well, you'll have to keep your nose in a splint for the next few days but, otherwise, yes. It will be fixed."
"A splint?" Tucker cried. "I...I just assumed you could, like, fuse the bones together and it'd be fine."
"Mr. Tucker, I'm a doctor not an engineer. I can only set the bones. It will take time and extreme care on your part for the injury to heal. It might be in your best interest to avoid Lieutenant Reed for a start..."
"I don't think he'll be hittin' me again any time soon, Doc, but thanks for the advice."
Five minutes later, the bones had been set and Tucker's nose was encased in a splint. Although Archer wasn't at all happy with the situation, he couldn't help smiling at the image Tucker presented.
"Well, I'm glad somebody finds this funny," Tucker said, sitting up. The smile faded.
"It's not funny. Nothing about this is funny."
"No, I guess not."
"You said you wanted to talk. I think it's time we did that." Archer glanced at Phlox, who quickly took the hint.
"I promised Ensign Cutler I would meet her for dinner. I should probably head to the mess hall before I'm late."
"You should never keep a lady waiting," Archer said. "I suggest you leave immediately. With any luck, you won't see either Commander Tucker or Lieutenant Reed for the next hour or so, at least."
"That would be appreciated, Captain." Phlox beamed a smile at Tucker and walked out of sickbay. Archer sat down on the edge of the biobed.
"I guess this is where I'm supposed to talk, isn't it?" Tucker said.
"You said there was something you needed to tell me." Tucker nodded, swallowing nervously. Archer patted his leg. "Take all the time you need, Trip."
"No, I'd-I'd better say this before I chicken out. In those last hours before you found us, I-I tried to do something really stupid."
"Like what?"
"We had ten hours of oxygen left and I knew that if there were only one of us..."
"Oh, God, what did you do?"
"I tried to climb into the airlock, sir." Archer shut his eyes. "Malcolm thought I was joking. When he realized I wasn't, he was pretty pissed."
"I don't blame him!"
"He said that if anyone should go up there it should be him 'cause I was the Chief Engineer. When that didn't work, he-he pulled out his phase pistol and pointed it at me." Archer's eyes widened.
"It was set to stun," Tucker said quickly, "and he was shaking so much from the cold, he could barely aim properly anyway...I ordered him to put it down and he told me to go to hell." Tucker put his head in both hands and Archer's lips twitched.
"I wish I could have seen that," he said with a laugh. He looked at Tucker, assuming he was laughing as well because his shoulders were shaking. Then he realized.
"Trip, what is it?" Archer jumped off the biobed and wrapped an arm around his friend.
"I'm sorry," Tucker sobbed.
"Why, Trip?" Archer asked gently.
"I didn't crawl into the airlock to save Malcolm," came the muffled reply. "I did it because I was scared!"
"You climbed into the airlock because you were scared?" Archer's forehead creased in confusion.
"I couldn't stand the waitin' anymore, to sit there for ten more hours not knowin' if I was going to suffocate, freeze to death or be rescued...I convinced myself I was doin' it to save Malcolm but he knew. He called me on it. He accused me of bein' a coward, and he was right."
"You're not a coward. You just got scared, that's all. Anyone in your situation would have. It's perfectly understan--"
"Don't say it 'cause it's not!" Tucker shouted, dropping his hands and trying to wriggle away from Archer's comforting arm. Archer's grip tightened.
"I wasn't there, Trip, so I can only imagine what it must have been like. But I know one thing: Charles Tucker III is no coward, and I don't care what anyone else says to the contrary." Tucker shook his head and sniffed.
"I wish I could blow my nose," he said.
Archer looked around sickbay, but he couldn't find a box of Kleenex. He picked up the wet, bloody towel that had been left on the end of the biobed and handed it to Tucker. Tucker stared at it skeptically and wiped his nose as carefully as he could, which was a challenge with the splint.
"What happened next?" Archer asked.
"What?"
"After Malcolm told you to go to hell. What happened after that?"
"Oh, uh...I think that's when I threatened to bust him down to crewman second-class for insubordination, but the son of a bitch just said he could use less responsibility and hauled me out of the airlock." Archer's lips twitched again, but he managed to hide his reaction from Tucker.
"I take it you weren't pleased," Archer stated, keeping his voice level.
"I asked him who the hell he thought he was and if he really wanted Enterprise to find two bodies instead of one, and-and he said yes. He said he'd rather take the chance that you guys had seen our impulse engine explode and had picked up speed than-than take my share of the oxygen. And when he said that I felt-I felt such shame 'cause he kept his faith in Enterprise and I lost mine, lost it completely. And I thought I'd never see the day when that happened."
"Trip, you were cold, exhausted and scared. Malcolm knew that," Archer said, squeezing Tucker's shoulder. Tucker shook his head vigorously.
"No, I failed him. I let him down. I was in charge. I wasn't supposed to lose my head like that. And after all the time I spent yellin' at him for being such a pessimist, tellin' him we'd be okay, that we weren't gonna die--"
"Trip!" Tucker turned his head slowly towards Archer.
"You're human. Humans make mistakes. Humans aren't perfect. So you did have a moment of doubt. So what? We all lose hope sometimes and, let's face it, you were both in a pretty hopeless situation. The fact that you both survived is miraculous. No, that's not the right word for it. A miracle usually involves some kind of divine intervention. This is something you guys did yourselves."
"It was Malcolm's idea to blow up the impulse engine." Archer laughed.
"Yeah. I kinda figured that. But whose idea was it to shut down the environmental controls to conserve oxygen?"
"Mine," Tucker admitted quietly, looking down. Suddenly Archer's arms were around him and he was hugging Tucker tightly.
"You did good, Trip. You shouldn't feel ashamed but proud. I know I am."
"Really?"
"Yes." Archer released Tucker and gave him some time to collect himself.
"Now, what are we going to do about Malcolm?" Archer asked once Tucker had recovered.
"I guess I'd better go talk to him. He seemed real..." A look of horror suddenly crossed Tucker's features.
"What?" Archer asked in alarm.
"Malcolm...He...When he pulled me out of the airlock, he, uh...he tried to offer me friendship and, uh...He was right. I did push him away."
"Trip, what are you talking about?"
"On the shuttlepod, Malcolm told me that he's never been able to get close to anyone, not even his own family, but that things had started to seem different on the Enterprise. He felt like he had started to become close to us."
"Was this when you thought that Enterprise had...?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, hell." Tucker nodded miserably.
"That's...that's not the worst of it. He, uh...He seems convinced that uh...nothing he said means anything because of...because of the way I've been acting, I guess. No, it is because of me. He opened up to me, tried to be my friend, and--"
"You pushed him away."
"Yeah." Archer stared at him in disbelief.
"Trip, you're the first person--the only person--he's opened up to on this ship, and you pushed him away...God, no wonder he decked you!"
"I didn't mean to push him away! Well, uh...I guess I did, but it wasn't for the reasons he thinks!"
"Talk to him, Trip. Now. That's not a request. That's an order." Trip slid off the biobed and left sickbay immediately.
"It's official," Archer muttered. "I've turned into a mother hen."
Tucker stood in front of Reed's door, trying to summon enough courage to press the door chime. It had seemed much easier before when he had just barged in. Now he was afraid to touch the door chime, to inflict more damage. He took a deep breath and hit the button quickly.
Okay, you can do this, Tucker thought. You survived being cooped up in a shuttlepod with the guy. You should be able to survive a few minutes in his quarters.
Tucker tried to relax as he waited for Reed to answer. He was still waiting a minute later. Tucker pressed the chime again.
"Malcolm? You in there?" Tucker shifted from foot to foot, debating whether he should stay or go. Then the door opened and Reed stood blinking at him.
"Sorry. I must have dozed off," Reed said, his eyes taking in the splint on Tucker's nose without comment.
"You're entitled. May I come in?"
"Of course." Reed stepped back, ushering Tucker inside with a wave of his arm.
"Mind if I sit?" Reed pulled out the chair they had almost wrestled over earlier and offered it to his superior. Tucker waited until Reed had perched on the edge of his mattress before speaking again.
"How do you feel?" he asked. Reed burst out laughing.
"How do I feel? Like a total idiot. I'd ask after you, but it seems like a rather stupid question under the circumstances."
"It's not as bad as it looks."
"Well, that's some comfort, I suppose," Reed muttered. He stared down at his hands for a moment before meeting Tucker's eyes.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I came here to apologize." Reed laughed again.
"You wish to apologize? Why the hell should you do that?"
"'Cause I think I might have hurt you a helluva lot more than you hurt me." Reed blushed and looked down again.
"It was just a slap, Commander."
"I'm not talking about the slap, Malcolm, and you know it." Tucker leaned forward in his chair, trying to physically bridge the distance between them.
"I thought I had failed you back on the shuttlepod, at the airlock, but it was after that, wasn't it? When we made it back to Enterprise." Reed looked up but said nothing. Tucker rose from his chair and stood in front of him.
"Malcolm, you've gotta know how sorry I am. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am." Reed stared up at Tucker for a moment then smiled.
"I'm not exactly the easiest person to get along with. I reckon at least part of the blame lies with me. I'll accept your apology if you'll accept mine."
Reed extended his hand, and Tucker shook it eagerly. Then he bent over and engulfed the surprised Armoury Officer in a hug. Reed patted Tucker's back, not sure what else to do. Then he was literally saved by the bell as his door chimed. Tucker quickly broke away from him.
"Come in," Reed called. The Captain entered his quarters, and Reed immediately leapt to his feet.
"I just stopped by to see if everything was okay."
"Everything's great," Tucker piped up enthusiastically.
"If everything's great then why does Malcolm look like he's heading to a funeral?"
"What?" Tucker looked at Reed, who was suddenly looking pretty grim. Then Tucker remembered Reed's parting words when he shoved him out of his quarters.
"Oh!" he said with a laugh. "Malcolm thinks you're here to chew him out about my nose." Tucker threw an arm around Reed's shoulders. "Don't be too hard on him, Captain. He said he'd make a list of replacements--temporary replacements--until a new Armoury Officer could be found."
"I've compiled the list already, sir, if you wish to peruse it," Reed said, unzipping one of the pockets of his uniform and extracting a padd. Tucker took it from him, studying it for an instant.
"Well, will you look at this? He's included their academy grades, career citations and everything." Tucker handed the padd to Archer, trying to conceal a grin.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Archer asked hoarsely. He looked at Reed, who was still looking tense.
"Malcolm, I never thought I'd say this about my Armoury Officer, but do you think it might be possible that you're just a little too paranoid?"
"Sir?"
"This isn't the navy: I'm not going to hang you from the nearest yard-arm!"
"But there'll be some sort of inquiry. I mean I'll have to be disciplined."
"Why?" Reed stared at Archer as if he had lost his mind.
"I hit a superior officer, sir."
"There were extenuating circumstances," Archer said.
"Were there ever!" Tucker added. Archer tried to hand the padd back to Reed, but Reed refused to accept it.
"You should demote me, sir," he said.
"No."
"Well, you'll have to assign a new Armoury Officer."
"Malcolm, I'm still trying to break in the one I've got!" Reed sat on the bed, looking defeated. Then he hopped back up again.
"You'll have to file a report, include this in my record, sir!"
"No, I don't."
"But, sir!"
"You've got what amounts to an almost perfect record. I'm not going to blemish it with...with something like this."
"Well, you'll suspend me, at least, won't you, sir?" Reed demanded.
"Yeah, okay. I can do that."
"Two weeks?"
"One week."
"No pay?"
"Ah, Malcolm, come on!" Reed gazed at him sternly.
"Fine. All right. No pay. But that's my final offer, Mr. Reed." "Thank you, sir," Reed said, looking as if a huge burden had been lifted. Archer handed the padd back again, and Reed took it this time.
"Well, I think my job here is done."
"Thanks for coming by, Captain," Reed said.
"It was my pleasure. As always, it was...an experience." Archer gazed at both of his officers. "Feel better. That's an order."
"Yes, sir," Tucker and Reed answered in unison.
"Are you happy now?" Tucker asked, once Archer had left.
"Ecstatic."
"Thank God."
"I'm also starving. Want to grab something in the mess hall?"
"Mr. Reed, I thought you'd never ask."
Tucker and Reed were almost halfway to the mess hall when they ran into T'Pol. The Vulcan was going to move past them without a word, but her curiosity got the better of her.
"Commander, what happened to your nose?"
"Oh, uh..." Tucker looked at Reed. "I had a little accident."
"I see. Did this accident involve someone's fist by any chance?"
"Yes, it did, Sub-Commander," Reed said. "Mine." T'Pol's eyebrow shot up and she studied Reed for a moment in interest.
"I commend you on your technique, Lieutenant." Reed blushed.
"Thank you, Sub-commander." She nodded and swept past them.
"Well, are you just going to stand there?" Reed whispered.
"She's a Vulcan. She doesn't want to hear an apology."
"She's a pissed off Vulcan. If she isn't asking for an apology, I suggest you find out what she does want."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay. I guess I'd better..."
"Yes, I think you'd better." Reed grinned as Tucker turned to follow her, pretending not to care and failing miserably.
When Reed reached the mess hall, he found it was almost full. He was tempted to just grab a sandwich and some tea and go, but then he spotted Mayweather and Hoshi across the room.
As he approached their table, he noticed that they both seemed to be absorbed by the padds in front of them. Apparently, they had made this a working meal. Reed wondered if it was right to disturb them. He hadn't exactly been the most diverting company the last time he had dined with them, but then he had never been diverting company for anyone before. He decided to take his chances.
"Hi," he said, once he reached their table. "I've decided to join the land of the living again and I wondered if I might join you." Mayweather and Hoshi both smiled and pulled out the chairs beside them.
"I'll probably just need the one chair, but Trip might be joining us if T'Pol doesn't kill him."
"Oh, uh, okay," Mayweather said.
"I'm going to grab something before I end up repeating my performance on the bridge. Can I get either of you anything?" Mayweather and Hoshi shook their heads in mute astonishment.
"He's either feeling better--" Mayweather began.
"Or he's completely lost it," Hoshi said. Data padds forgotten, they watched Reed pick up a tray and line up for his supper. When he returned to the table a few minutes later, he had a plate of fish and chips and a glass of milk.
"Don't worry," he spoke as he took a seat beside Hoshi, "I never freak out over fish and chips. Good British staple, this."
"And the milk?" Hoshi asked.
"With any luck, it will help me sleep tonight."
"Well, that's good, sir, because you look--"
"Bloody awful?" Reed suggested, taking a bite of his haddock. "Mmm! This is excellent. Have you tried the fish?" The two ensigns shook their heads.
"I made the mistake of picking the liver, sir," Mayweather said.
"He had never tried liver before and thought he'd see what it was like," Hoshi added when Reed looked at Mayweather's discarded plate in surprise.
"Leave it for Trip. He'll eat anything," Reed replied. "And he won't be able to smell it, so that might help."
"Won't be able to smell it...?" Hoshi asked. Then she got her answer as Tucker entered the mess hall. She didn't notice him at first, but then the room went quiet as everyone gaped at the splint.
"I had a little accident, okay?" Tucker said loudly. There were a few murmured apologies and most people looked away. Reed continued with his meal as if nothing had happened, only breaking his concentration long enough to signal to Tucker.
"How'd it go?" Reed spoke, his mouth full of haddock.
"Okay, I think," Tucker said, sitting in the empty chair beside Mayweather. "I can never be too sure with her. I guess I should just be grateful that her right hook isn't as good as yours, Rocky." Hoshi dropped her fork, and Mayweather's jaw dropped. Reed sipped his milk then put the glass down calmly.
"Isn't it? That's a pity. I'll have to rectify that situation before your next argument with her."
"Look, buddy," Tucker growled, snatching a fry from Reed's plate and waving it at him, "you've already earned a week's suspension--"
"You've been suspended?" Mayweather and Hoshi cried. Several heads turned. This time Reed had the courtesy to look embarrassed.
"Yes, I've been suspended," he whispered, "and I had to work bloody hard for it too." Two pairs of eyes drifted to the splint.
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is a Malcolm Reed original," Tucker stated. "Accept no imitations." The eyes flew back to Reed.
"You hit him?" Mayweather gasped. "You actually hit a superior officer?"
"Yep," Reed answered, his mouth full of haddock again.
"You see," Tucker said, taking another fry from Reed's plate, "that shy, quiet persona of his is really just an act 'cause take it from me, this boy's got a temper."
"Trip," Reed pleaded.
"When they coined the term 'short fuse,' they were definitely thinking of Malcolm Reed. I bet you thought his talents lay in blowin' things up, right? Well, you ain't seen nothing till he blows up himself. Trust me, you don't want to get this guy angry."
"Trip!" Mayweather and Hoshi stood up quickly, collecting their padds.
"Where are you going?" Reed asked.
"Uh...I've got an early shift tomorrow," Hoshi said quickly. "I should really get to bed."
"And I, uh, have to wash my hair," Mayweather blurted out. Hoshi grabbed his arm and started to pull him away. "Good night, sirs!" Mayweather called as he and Hoshi fled from the mess hall. Reed turned to Tucker and glared.
"Thanks a lot. They only thought I was crazy before. Now they think I'm a bleeding psychopath." Tucker shrugged nonchalantly, chewing on his third fry.
"Hey, what are friends for?"
Captain's Log: November 16, 2151
Today Trip and Malcolm started their treatment. I doubt the road to recovery will be easy for either of them, but I think their most difficult challenges are behind them.
They're survivors. The fact that they survived their experiences on the shuttlepod is proof of that. I believe they can exorcise their demons and chase away the ghosts that have been haunting them. It took time but I think they finally realized that they don't have to fight it alone. They've got people they can lean on. They've got each other.
Although I'm sure neither Trip nor Malcolm would ever admit it, I think that what happened on the shuttlepod has brought them closer together. You can't share an experience like that and not be affected. They've formed a bond, a bond that I predict will only grow stronger. I'm looking forward to watching their friendship develop.
~the end~