The One Left Behind

I don't want to be the one left behind.

That thought kept running through his mind as he argued with Malcolm, desperate to convince the man that sacrificing himself was not the only solution. Yes, he was pinned to the hull. Yes, the Romulans wanted them gone. Yes, the mine was a bitch to disarm.

But being the one left behind wasn't an option for the man in love with his armory officer. He might never have Malcolm, might never break through the layers of protocol and reserve to find the warm and passionate man he knew lurked underneath. He might never know what it felt like to lie in Malcolm's arms, to hear his name sighed through Malcolm's lips.

But he wouldn't be the one left behind.

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I don't want to be the one left behind.

That thought screamed in his mind, a denial of the captain's actions. He knew the captain was trying to save his life, to prevent his death at the hands of the paranoid General Gosis and his men. He didn't want that--didn't want the captain's death on his conscience, his fault for leaving his communicator behind.

Standing with the noose around his neck, he looked over. The captain looked apologetic, regretting that his gambit had failed. The man in love with his captain was relieved. He knew he would never discover what Jonathan Archer's lips tasted like, never know what it was like to wake up in Jonathan Archer's arms, never have the pleasure of hearing his name said with love.

But he would not be the one left behind.