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

Title: Blackberries

Author: Taryn Eve

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Archer/Reed

Rating: PG-13

Category: Slash

Warning: Deathfic

Summary: Trip tastes love when Malcolm reaches the stars.

Comments: Inspired by the people at Reed's Armory and Nehal's I, Lucifer. "When You Are Old" is by William Butler Yeats.

Archived to Reed's Armory on 04/20/2003.

It was too sunny and he wanted to kill someone for it. Still, Trip couldn't force himself to stop politely listening to the two voices of reason dogging his steps. Captain Archer and T'Pol came down from the ship with him, despite his tired protests that he wanted to do this alone. He couldn't make them go away short of shoving them off the cliff, though. After all, they were here to protect him and honor the fallen.

"His father wants to hold a ceremony when we get back to Earth." The wind snatched away Archer's voice, almost making him sound insubstantial as a ghost. "We could postpone this until then."

Trip clenched the package in his arms, trying not to blame the captain for handing out the orders that had saved their lives yet taken Malcolm away.

A large sigh escaped Trip and he caught T'Pol in the act of giving him a sidelong look. Was that a speck of compassion in those dark eyes? He wanted to tell her to stop trying. It hurt too much to see himself mirrored alone there. He stumbled on the rocky ground and she threw out his hand to prevent the bundle in his arms from escaping over the cliff. Taking a breath, he nodded his thanks and she eased away from him.

Trip wasn't melodramatic enough to seriously consider killing himself, at least not today. No, he'd live his life to a hundred and thirty if he had to. It had cost Malcolm too damn much to save his life to throw it away.

The wind brought with it the scent of ripe berries and Trip couldn't get the bittersweet taste out of his mouth.

+++

Excited about something for the first time in weeks, Trip pointed out the wild blackberries a few dozen meters below the cliff. Not caring about his companion or their survey assignment, he scrambled down to check things out as Malcolm cursed above him. Whistling, Trip walked over to the bush and took a few berries.

"Watch out," Malcolm called down. "They might be poison."

Annoyed, Trip glared at the uptight armory officer. "Did you know that one of the happiest days of my life was the time I got scratched to hell in my nana's backyard, gobbling berries just like these?"

Malcolm dropped the last few meters to the ground and rolled his eyes. "It sounds rather urbane, Commander. Let's get back to work, shall we?"

"Whatever," Trip said, shrugging. "I bet you spent your childhood locked in your room, reading bad English poetry and wishing you had big guns to polish."

A hurt look passed over Malcolm's face for a brief moment. "I know how to have fun, goddamn you, Trip." With a determined gleam in his eye, Malcolm walked up to the blackberries and selected one. He held it up to the light and dark juice spilled over his palm. Giving Trip a hard look, Malcolm popped the berry into his mouth.

For a second, Trip thought the other man was going to spit it out. A heartbeat later, Malcolm pulled Trip into his arms and kissed him. He tasted sweet.

Malcolm pulled away. Trip stared into his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Malcolm asked in a husky voice.

Trip gave him a slow smile. "I think I'd like some more, please. A lot more."

Malcolm tilted his head. "Greedy bastard. Come here, love."

+++

An hour and thirty-three minutes after the survey teams returned to the ship, the Suliban launched a surprise attack against Enterprise that crippled most of the her systems, all but one-the weapons system. The torpedo had to be launched manually in the decompressed Armory. A man in a suit might make it...

Of course Malcolm volunteered and of course, Trip didn't argue about it. Duty. Honor.

Love. They clasped hands in the corridor before Trip forced himself to return to the disemboweled engineering section.

The comm sounded just as he started working on the misaligned inducer. "Reed to Tucker."

Trip knew without checking the chronometer that there hadn't been enough time for the mission to be completed. "Tucker," he said in a raw voice. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"My favorite poem is by an Irishman, actually." Malcolm sounded distracted; maybe he was still suiting up. "It's 'When You Are Old' by Yeats. Tell my father to give you the Enfield when you get back to Earth, I'm sure they still have the damn thing locked up."

What the hell was an Enfield? Trip wondered. Probably some big old gun.

"Anything else?" he asked, running his scanner over the repair he'd made.

Malcolm didn't answer for a long time. A surge of noise ran through the comm. "I used to fly kites and I love you. Reed out."

The ship shook. Trip dropped the scanner and buried his face in his hands, the taste of blackberries choking him.

+++

They hadn't been able to recover anything after the Suliban fled. It was tactically stupid for all three of them to be away from the ship right now, but Archer had been afraid of Trip's state of mind and T'Pol wouldn't leave him alone. Had Malcolm said something to her about them before the end? He wondered if she understood that her inability to understand his emotions was choking him. It would be dark within half an hour. This little ceremony would have to do. Trip decided that he would catch the gun later, if he ever captured the courage to go meet Malcolm's parents.

His shoulders shaking, Trip removed from his pocket a piece of paper he'd printed off in Engineering a short time ago. He shoved the paper at Archer, who gave him a surprised look and began reading aloud.

'When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.'

+++

Trip tied one last knot.

"I do not understand the purpose of this implement."

Archer led T'Pol a few meters away. "You'll see."

Below them, the sunset lit the sea like a glowing shroud. The shimmering illusion greeted the shore not far from the blackberry bush. Trip doubted he'd ever taste anything like those berries ever again. The poem was crumpled in his pocket.

He tugged on the string. This wasn't his best engineering feat, but he liked the blue and white thing anyway. A rising breeze took Trip's offering and bore the fragile construction of paper and plastic and string aloft, a creation as improbable as his sudden discovery of Malcolm's love had been.

Trip could see a star far above the soaring kite. Someday, he'd let himself cry. Today, it was enough to just hold this thin string and remember the taste of making love to Malcolm, blackberries mingled with ashes and stars.

~the end~