"Dantrian Trade Protocol #32 Paragraph 2"

Author: Sal

Author's e-mail: lak502000@yahoo.co.uk

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Rating: NC-17

Category: Slash

Summary: Just how far will the officers of Enterprise go to establish first contact?

Spoilers: 1.16 Shuttlepod One

Disclaimer: This is a nonprofit fanfic. No copyright infringement is intended or should be inferred.

Comments: For darling Zoe--Happy *cough* Birthday *cough* for last November! Well, you should know me by now! Thanks for being a wonderful friend! To everyone else--Happy Easter.

Beta reader(s): SueC worked her magic--any inconsistencies, grammatical errors, etc remaining are mine all mine.

Archived to EntSTSlash on 03/28/2005.
Archived at Trip*Malcolm with the author's express permission.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!"

Captain Jonathan Archer turned his attention briefly to his chief engineer, his glare enough to halt any further comment on the current proceedings. If he was honest, he could hardly blame the man for his reaction and a quick glance around the rest of the bridge crew catalogued varying degrees of shock. Commander Charles Tucker had simply given voice to what everyone, including himself, was thinking.

It was a first contact situation; always a delicate undertaking with no guarantee of success, even on those occasions when they did not immediately find themselves at the wrong end of an alien attack. This time Enterprise had been cautiously welcomed into the Dantria system, escorted into an orbit around the main planet in the binary system where information was exchanged regarding the basic make-up of each society. The Dantrians turned out to be a humanoid race, similar to Humanity, but rather than bare skin, they had what almost amounted to a soft fur pelt. Ensign Sato had explained during an earlier briefing that a complex system of dress and decoration provided a statement of position, mood, family or state of health, which could change from day to day. Everyone on the ship had been fascinated by the culture. The Dantrians were less amazed by the Human appearance as they had encountered similar species in the past. Archer had made his usual speech about exploration, which appeared to have gone down well. Then the elected ruler, a term loosely translated by Sato into Tribune, delivered the standard terms for the next stage in their negotiations and it was that which had rapidly turned fascination to horror.

Archer felt his mouth drop open as the Tribune explained, without any hint of embarrassment, how they always insisted upon two members of each new race they encountered demonstrating the sexual practices of their species. Those involved were chosen by the ruling council, the Council of Raikon, and were not negotiable. There was no time limit imposed, but no further negotiations would be undertaken until this demonstration had been completed to the council's satisfaction. He was directed to the copy of the Dantrian Trade Protocols that had been delivered to Sato's station for further information, the Tribune graciously indicating the exact section which covered first contact.

A number of possible responses whirled through Archer's mind, specifically along the lines of how they could extricate themselves without giving offence, and without requiring any of his crew to undergo this trial. He glanced at Sub-commander T'Pol and then back at the screen.

"Thank you for describing your terms," he responded formally. "May we have time to consider them?"

"Will one of your hour time periods be sufficient?" he was asked, courteously.

Archer agreed and they cut the connection, the captain immediately calling his senior team to the situation room. It was interesting, he thought, how difficult it seemed for them to meet one another's eyes. Amusement uppermost, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"I'd appreciate your views, people. I would suggest we make polite excuses and leave." There was a scattering of agreeing murmurs and then his eyes alighted on Tucker who was grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck. "Commander?" he questioned.

"Well, I agree, Cap'n, of course I do. It's just, well, the information they've sent us so far shows massive quantities of dilithium all over the planet. We're kinda short in that department."

Oh dear. His simple solution suddenly became a great deal more complicated. "Sub-commander?" He turned his attention to the head of the science department, who responded in her usual calm manner.

"Commander Tucker is correct. There is also a variety of other minerals which would prove extremely useful."

"Is there anywhere else we can find this material in the system?"

"Yeah," the Commander responded, "but all trade is based on acceptance by the main planetary government. Without their say so, we ain't gettin' anywhere."

There was a short silence. "I am not happy about putting my crew in this kind of situation," Archer said sharply.

"You could ask them." Everyone turned to face Lieutenant Malcolm Reed and he shrugged as he continued. "You could agree to their terms if you had the full consent of the crew to do so," he could see the objections forming on his captain's lips. "I understand this ship is not a democracy, sir, but this is an exceptional situation. The Dantrians have made no threatening moves towards us and I am of the opinion we would be allowed to leave with their good wishes--but without any dilithium. My suggestion is that you provide the crew with an explanation and thirty minutes to voice their objections. If anyone, anyone at all does so, then we leave."

Archer stared at him, weighing his words. "I still don't like it, Malcolm," he murmured.

"No, sir," his armoury chief responded, dryly, "but I suspect you would like running out of fuel even less."

The captain smiled, appreciating both his irony and his point. "Anyone got any other ideas?" Shrugs, shakes of the head and one raised eyebrow constituted his response. "Okay, Malcolm, thanks to you I get to make the most embarrassing crew announcement of my career!" The meeting broke up in laughter, and Archer gripped Reed's shoulder briefly to express his thanks.

Forty-five minutes later and there was a distinct lack of any response from his crew. With a deep intake of breath, Archer nodded to Sato who activated the comm. and patched him through to the council chamber.

"I have consulted with my crew and we agree to your terms," he stated, baldly.

The humanoid stared at him for a brief moment and Archer thought he appeared almost nonplussed. "You asked your crew?"

Jonathan Archer was very much on his dignity, still smarting about the whole outrageous idea. "Certainly," he responded, coolly. "Had anyone objected to the possibility they may be chosen to undergo this...ordeal," he chose the word carefully, "then we would have left."

The Tribune was possessed of a fine pair of bushy white eyebrows and, in a gesture reminiscent of their resident Vulcan at her stateliest, they were raised, almost disappearing into matching bushy white hair, although he did not comment directly on the explanation. "I see. The test will go ahead. Two members of your crew will be selected."

"When?" Archer demanded.

"It is done."

Malcolm Reed blinked, disorientated. One moment he had been at his station on the bridge and now he was here, in a large room bare of any furniture except, and he gulped, a large bed and one other person. He looked across at the figure standing there.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

Trip Tucker just stared.

There was a long silence while the two men gazed at one another, before Reed sighed and began tugging at the zipper of his uniform.

"What are you doin'?"

Tucker sounded almost panicked, he thought, as he slipped his arms out of the jumpsuit. "Well, we might as well get on with it," he remarked, practically. "We're not going anywhere until it's over." His voice tailed off as he realised Commander Tucker not only sounded panicked, but he looked petrified. A dreadful thought occurred and he tied the sleeves around his middle before approaching his friend.

"Trip?" he questioned softly. "What's wrong?"

Tucker did not respond immediately, and when he did it was to counter the question with one of his own. "Are you gay?" he asked bluntly.

Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed. "Bisexual. You?" He had a nasty suspicion about the answer.

"I'm straight."

Shit

"Don't worry, Trip, there must be some mistake--"

"You heard what that guy said, Malcolm. The choice of partners is theirs--an' it's non-negotiable." He sat down beside Reed and sighed before he spoke again, and now his tone was thoughtful. "I said I'm straight but I guess that's not strictly true," there was a long pause. "Truth is there was a guy I liked when I was in college. Trouble is, he tried to push things too fast and damn near--" He halted abruptly, unable to articulate the experience.

"God, I'm so sorry." Malcolm reached out and then hesitated, relieved when Trip caught at his hand and squeezed it.

"I know you'd never hurt me, Malcolm," he said softly, "an' I guess if it's got to be anyone, I'm kinda glad it's you."

Reed laughed a little. "Thanks--I think," he teased, before he brought the hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles, ignoring the start of surprise. "Listen to me, Trip, they said time was not an issue so we can take as long as we need. You lead the way and call the shots. Okay?"

The expression in the blue eyes was direct, Tucker obviously weighing Reed's words and then he smiled a little. "Thanks."

For a long time they simply sat, shoulder-to-shoulder, Tucker's hand held in a reassuring grip while a cacophony of thoughts and old fears swirled around in his mind. It was the first time he had ever told anyone about Steve and his one disastrous foray into homosexuality. In hindsight he could appreciate how young they were and though Steve seemed sophisticated to the young Tucker, he still lacked enough experience to take things at the pace the nave young student had needed. Telling Malcolm about it had put it into perspective and he viewed the events now with an adult's eyes. Without a doubt, he knew Malcolm would never push him and would never ask anything of him he was not prepared to offer in his turn. As always in the lieutenant's presence he felt secure, protected, cared for. Loved. The new knowledge surprised him for a moment until he called Reed's words on the icy shuttlepod Nearly everyone I cared about. He turned his head slightly to view the profile, Malcolm clearly deep in his own thoughts, and felt a new warmth uncurl in the pit of his stomach. Maybe I can do this after all, he thought. Reaching across, he pressed a light kiss to his friend's temple, chuckling at the pleased surprise colouring the features which turned to him.

"That was unexpected," Malcolm commented.

He shrugged. "Like you said, we ain't going anywhere 'till this is over." Letting go of Reed's hand, he leaned over to divest himself of his boots before levering his body fully onto the bed and lying down, aware of Malcolm's movements as his actions were repeated and the Englishman joined him. He rolled onto his side and stared into the serious grey gaze.

"So, what now?" he asked.

Malcolm smiled at him, his expression so very kind and Tucker felt his throat close as emotion threatened to choke him. He stayed very still as his friend leaned in and captured his mouth in a gentle caress. After a moment's shock, he returned the kiss, deepening the contact slightly as the expected panic and revulsion refused to materialise. He was panting slightly by the time the kiss ended, and parts of his body were beginning to signal a surprising amount of interest.

The grainy voice was thick with an undertone of passion, Tucker shivering as the deep, husky tone raised goosebumps on his skin.

"Why don't we see if I can make you feel good, hmm?"

"'kay," he managed, annoyed when his voice trembled.

Reed's hand curved around his cheek, his tone calm and confident. "You can stop this at any time, Trip. If I'm doing something you feel uncomfortable with, or I'm going too fast, then tell me. I promise I'll stop."

There was no doubt in Tucker's mind now. He trusted Malcolm implicitly and the man's words were enough to calm his own nerves. Smiling his appreciation, he pulled Reed into another kiss, this one assured, confident and increasingly passionate.

On Enterprise Jonathan Archer stared in appalled horror at the viewscreens around him. Every one was showing the same thing. Most of the bridge crew were wearing the same expression of shock. For a moment he was held in absolute stasis before he found his voice.

"Hoshi, get me the Tribune," he demanded and resolutely ignored the sight of his armoury chief and chief engineer locked in an ever more passionate embrace.

When contact was made it was audio only and the alien sounded distinctly distracted. "Captain Archer?" he enquired. "Is something wrong?"

Archer almost gasped aloud at the question and grated: "Do you really think it is necessary for all their colleagues to see this?"

"It is part of this test, Captain. Please excuse me." And with that the connection was terminated.

Uncharacteristically, Archer swore before he turned to the ensign once more. "Shipwide, please, Hoshi," and on her nod, "All hands. This is the captain. It appears we have no choice but to witness what Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker have to do. Please ignore the monitors as much as possible. All recording devices will be disabled and if I ever discover that anyone has downloaded any of what will follow, you may be assured of suffering the results of my extreme displeasure. Let's try and provide them with what privacy we can, people. Archer out."

As he sat back he was confronted by the sight of Reed peeling off Tucker's uniform and gulped. "I'll be in my ready room," he managed, and almost scuttled away from the view.

Hoshi Sato exchanged one look with Travis Mayweather and fanned herself theatrically, before she disappeared under her console. After a few moments the sound from the screen was suddenly cut off and she grinned at Travis then turned her back on the screen, taking out a PADD. Mayweather couldn't leave his console, but fixed his gaze firmly on the readings in front of him. Sub-commander T'Pol continued in her work, apparently unaffected by the sight of the now naked men.

Malcolm Reed did not know whether to be angry with or grateful to the Dantrians for placing him in this situation. Since he had joined Enterprise, seducing the chief engineer had been one of his favourite fantasies and some of those manufactured scenarios included an initially reluctant Tucker. In his dreams, of course, he always won the man over and now he set out to try and make that fantasy a reality. Gently, but insistently, he kissed him, licking at Tucker's lips until the mouth opened and he could slip his tongue into the wet heat, smiling a little at the murmur of satisfaction and the way Trip's arms tightened around his torso. As he kissed him, his hands were working, keeping the man occupied with the kiss while he gently and efficiently removed his uniform, shedding his own until they were a tangle of limbs.

When he thought about it later, Trip Tucker never could work out how or when he went from fully clothed to buck naked, but it seemed to be a natural progression as Malcolm, with a single-mindedness Trip recognised from the man's working style, set to work on seducing him. Before long, he was feeling nothing but desire and pleasure, coming back to himself only when the dark head began to move down his body and he gasped as a mouth attached itself to his nipple.

"Malcolm," he gasped.

Immediately Reed stopped, that very fact easing Tucker's sudden panic.

"What's up, love?" the soft voice asked.

Tucker smiled at the endearment, and at the surprising sense of calm it brought with it. "Nothin' really," he murmured, "just could do with a few minutes."

Malcolm grinned and moved back up the bed, settling beside the engineer and sliding an arm across his torso, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. "Take as much time as you need," he said quietly.

After a few moments, Tucker turned so he could see his new lover's face. It was the first time the word had slipped into his mind and he flushed slightly before smiling. Malcolm's eyes were closed allowing him the rare luxury of examining his features. His fears were leaching away from him, his body quickening as his gaze raked down the strong, lithe form beside him. He felt his breathing pick up, realising Malcolm felt it too as the grey eyes opened and he knew his own desire was clear in his gaze. A sweet smile graced Reed's mouth for a moment, before a hand stroked down his side and slid across to gently cup the hardening flesh.

"You're feeling ready." It was not a question.

Tucker grinned at him and swooped in to claim his mouth.

"Wow!"

A breathless chuckle was the only response, although it was accompanied by the touch of lips on the skin stretching over his hip. Smiling, he tugged gently at the dark hair, encouraging Reed to crawl back up the bed and into his waiting arms. He leaned in to kiss him, intrigued by the taste. His taste. They lay quietly, and Tucker was amazed how comfortable he felt, wrapped up in their embrace. It was not until the sweat was drying on his skin and Reed was half asleep beside him that an unpleasant thought occurred. He squirmed in sudden, excruciating embarrassment, rousing the other man from his doze.

"What's bothering you?" Malcolm asked, propping himself on one elbow to allow him to look down into the discomfited expression.

"Just rememberin' the whole point of this," he paused, aware he was blushing. "People are watchin' us, aren't they?"

Malcolm said nothing, but his grey gaze was steady.

"Yeah, thought so," Tucker murmured. "D'you think they're all seein' this on the ship, too?"

Again his lover did not speak, maintaining his gaze though a slight flush stained his cheeks now, too.

Suddenly Trip began to chuckle, resting his arm across his eyes.

"What?" Reed was already joining in his laughter, though he had no idea what was causing it.

"Oh, God, you're gonna kill me," Tucker managed in between his giggles.

"I will if you don't *tell* me," Reed responded, grinning.

"I was just thinkin'--if all the guys on the ship have seen what you've just done they'll be linin' up outside your door!"

For a moment Reed was almost shocked until Tucker's hilarity spilled over once again. "You bastard," he mock growled and pounced, tickling the man unmercifully as they rolled around on the bed, wrestling and laughing until Malcolm finally had Trip pinned down, sitting astride him, content to wait until the commander had stopped laughing. Then he reached out to wipe the tears of mirth from the flushed cheeks and asked, gently, "Are you all right?"

Trip captured his hand and brought it to rest above his heart. "Yes, Malcolm. I'm better than all right."

Malcolm watched him as his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out, slipping into sleep with his hand still wrapped possessively around Reed's. A wry smile touched the lieutenant's mouth as he saw how relaxed and how comfortable Tucker appeared. His thoughts ranged back over the years they had known one another and how much Trip's presence in his life had helped him grow. For the first time in his life he had been the subject of an easy, uncomplicated friendship. To begin with he had wondered why the man put up with him, as every time he instinctively rebuffed him he had been met with that same grin, that same refusal to be sent about his business. Slowly but surely he had fallen under Tucker's spell, won over by his charm and persistence.

A major surprise was the way they squabbled and fought, without it having any detrimental effect on their growing closeness. Reed was so sure he had lost the man's regard the first time it had occurred, only to be nonplussed by Tucker's light-hearted acceptance of it. One time, when he had relaxed his barriers sufficiently, he had questioned Trip about it, reassured by the chuckle he received in response and the assertion that fighting could be fun. And it was better than simmering, he had continued, casting a shrewd look at the younger man.

So maybe it wasn't so surprising that Malcolm Reed had fallen head over heels in love with Trip Tucker. He had seldom been of such interest to anyone. And so the initial lust, which had fuelled many uncomplicated fantasies, gradually became daydreams of time spent together, of Tucker loving him in return. It was arrant foolishness, he knew that, but he could not stop. Now the experience he had just undergone far outstripped any of those daydreams or fantasies and he could only hope against hope there would be no negative impact upon their friendship. Reaching out, he brushed his hand across Trip's forehead, despair vying with hope, and he shut his eyes against the sudden, overwhelming emotion. Swallowing, he pushed all such thoughts from him and decided to take what pleasure he could from the situation. With a sigh, he lay down, curling himself around the long body as he closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

Tucker had no idea how long he had slept before pressure from his bladder roused him and he found his way to the small bathroom, praying it, at least, was free from cameras. That would be pretty much the final indignity, he decided, having an audience watching him while he pissed. As he returned he first noticed the aroma and then the covered dishes. Shock held him still for a moment, surprised by the sudden appearance of the table and its contents. On further inspection he found a range of Earth foods, and called out to Malcolm.

"Hey, wakey wakey, grub's up." At that moment something else dawned on him, and he swore--loud and long, staring at the bleary-eyed man who was now gazing at him in bewilderment. "They've stolen our God damned clothes!"

There seemed little to be said although Malcolm was unable to resist looking to make sure before he could accept the Dantrians had indeed removed all their clothing. He grinned at the other man, trying to make light of it, "Well, saves me having to undress you all over again."

It was meant as a joke but stopped the commander in his tracks, and he turned to Malcolm, his features troubled. "Malcolm, we've--I mean they've seen us. That was all they wanted, wasn't it? Why are we still here?"

The thought had already occurred to Reed and he voiced the conclusion he had reached. "I don't think they've seen enough, Trip." He said it quietly, hoping to stave off the results of the anger he could see growing in his friend. It was a good tactic but did not succeed and Malcolm could only admire the movement of muscles under skin as Tucker, in a magnificent fit of fury, picked up a very appetising looking pasta dish and threw it forcefully at the door.

"I was going to try some of that," he said, plaintively.

"I feel like I'm in a God damned zoo," Tucker grumbled later as they sat together, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

Malcolm laughed quietly in response. "It's about the best analogy," he agreed, before drawing in a deep breath, "or we're like lab rats," he mused, then shrugged and said practically. "Either way, we don't get out until they're finished with us." He met the blue gaze then.

"Yeah, yeah, I know that." Tucker paused before he smiled a little and reached out to cover Reed's hand. "So what happens now?"

In response, Reed slithered down until he was lying flat on the mattress, gently tugging on the hand he held until Tucker lay by his side. With a quiet sigh, the Englishman closed the gap between them and captured the other man's mouth.

To begin with the kiss was gentle, seeking, and then Malcolm pulled Trip on top of him, sliding a hand down to caress his ass and intensifying the embrace. Tucker moaned in response, the heat between them building, and Malcolm was relieved to feel Tucker's erection grinding against him. Eventually they came up for air, panting as they lay against one another before the engineer began a determined oral exploration of Malcolm's body, and all he could do was moan and gasp his encouragement. The sensory overload was pushing everything else from his mind; the fact this was Tucker's first time with a man, that they were being watched and judged. It felt so good and was so close to fulfilling his wildest fantasies. The blood was singing through his veins, centring on his groin, and his heart was thundering. Without thinking he pulled Tucker up and gazed intently into passion-clouded eyes, demanding:

"Fuck me."

There was an instant of time when Tucker was completely, almost unnaturally still, then he surged forward, covering the lithe body with his broader frame to pin Malcolm to the bed, kissing him fiercely. Then he stopped, resting his forehead against Reed's as he panted and he was clearly fighting for some measure of composure. Malcolm stroked his hands down the broad back, his touch attempting to reassure and comfort rather than arouse and he left it to Trip to speak first.

"I have no idea what to do," Tucker confessed, whispering the words.

"It's easy," Malcolm reached up to kiss him gently. "And they have at least provided some supplies."

Tucker followed his glance, catching sight of the bottle on the small table by the bed. Releasing his hold on Reed he sat up and picked up the container, popping off the cap to pour a little of the contents into his hand. Malcolm slid his fingers into the small pool of liquid, spreading it across Tucker's palm in a gentle caress.

"Oil. It will act as a lubricant," he clarified, smiling slightly as colour surged across Tucker's skin.

There was another moment's pause and then Trip sighed and met the grey gaze. Quietly, he said: "If I do this to you then it happens," he stopped, obviously flustered, "the other way round, too."

It took Malcolm a moment to work that out. "Trip," he began, "you don't have to--"

"Yes, I do, Malcolm." Tucker was serious, then smiled. "They'd probably insist on it, anyhow. I might as well get the points for bein' noble!"

Reed laughed a little at that and then sobered. For a few moments they stared at one another, before Tucker smiled a slow, sexy smile and leaned in to kiss his lover, whispering softly, "I want to do this, Malcolm. I truly do."

The tension in his slim frame eased out of Reed in a long sigh and then the kiss became wilder, their bodies fusing together.

For Reed this had turned into some twisted version of his greatest dream; making love with Trip Tucker, experiencing those strong, capable hands working on his body and trailing pure pleasure in their wake. If only it was real, he thought desperately, aware there would be a reckoning for this in the days to come. His earlier decision returned to him and he decided to take what pleasure he could in the fact Trip was comfortable enough to be with him like this. And despite the circumstances Tucker was displaying an eagerness and a passion which left Reed moaning in pleasure. Who knows, he thought, in a burst of hope, which coincided with Tucker's gasp as he entered his body, it might even turn out to be true.

"Oh, Malcolm, this feels so good." Tucker almost purred the words in his ear, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little.

Then he shifted under the thrusting figure and Tucker paused.

"You okay?" The tone was anxious.

"Yes, oh, yes," Malcolm groaned out the words, his habitual calm and reticence a distant memory, lost in the moment and then he stuttered, "I just need you to--oh," he sighed as involuntarily Trip thrust again and this time hit his prostate. "There," he sighed. "Just there."

Tucker's thrusting increased, his fingers digging hard into skin and muscle, and as their control slipped away all Malcolm could hear was the thundering of his own heart, the sound of flesh on flesh and Trip's moans as he neared his completion. The sensory overload was too much and he felt his own orgasm rush through his body, clenching around Tucker as he cried out and came. Only seconds later his lover thrust into him one last time and froze, his own cry muffled against Malcolm's neck.

Trip rolled onto his side, his arms locked around the lithe torso, taking him with him so he was still held in that close embrace and Malcolm brought his hands up to grip the arms which banded him.

There was a very long silence.

"You asleep?"

"No."

"We're still here."

"So it would seem."

"I meant what I said, Malcolm."

"I know."

He turned in the embrace, facing his friend, his lover, and he sighed, his expression troubled.

"What's botherin' you?" Trip asked, his voice soft, reaching up to touch Reed's face gently.

"You're my best friend, Trip," Malcolm confessed, capturing the hand and pressing a kiss against the fingers. "There's never been anyone in my life quite like you. No-one who has accepted me just as I am. Nothing about me seems to phase you or put you off." He hesitated, conscious he was baring his soul to this man in a way he had never done before, not with anyone in his life. "You know me better than anyone ever has. The thought of losing your friendship..." he tailed off, unable to continue.

"We won't let it happen," Tucker averred, aware of, and humbled by, these confidences. "We're friends, Malcolm." He tightened his grip to reinforce his point. "Nothing can ever change that. I'm not gonna let it, you hear me?"

"I hear you," Reed murmured. Oh, Trip, he thought, thank you for at least believing you mean it.

Tucker stared into the troubled features, recognising the doubt and accepting it as part of this man's innate character. He smiled softly, knowing there was nothing else he could say and instead he leaned forward to kiss the friend, letting the touch of his hands sweep away the uncertainty between them, and then he gave himself up to the lover.

There was a familiar sound by his ear, a quiet, insistent bleeping and he knew it would not cease until he attended to it. Groggily, still half asleep, he hit the button. "Reed, here," he managed, through a massive yawn and he stared at the clock, wondering blearily why he was being woken at 03:00.

"Malcolm," Archer's voice was urgent. "Are you two okay?"

There was a pause while his mind furnished him with the details of the past hours and he groaned audibly.

"Lieutenant Reed?"

Reed's eyes had become adjusted to the dim lighting, and he recognised Trip's quarters. The two of them were curled together on the commander's bunk, both naked. Tucker had not been disturbed by the comm., still slumbering peacefully. As he stared down at the man's features, he felt a lump rise to his throat. His voice husky with suppressed emotion, he answered, "We're both here, sir. Tri...Commander Tucker is still asleep. We're fine, Captain. I'll wake the commander." He took immediate refuge in formality, clinging to Tucker's rank as if it was some lifeline back to sanity.

"Take your time, Malcolm." There was a wealth of compassion and understanding in Archer's voice and Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't want or need either, he realised. What he needed now was normality. He concentrated on his captain's words. "When you're ready let us know and I'll meet you in sick bay."

"Aye, sir."

He shut off the comm. and stared down at the other man. Sighing deeply, he eased himself until he was lying curled against the warm figure once more. Gently, he wrapped his arms around the strong torso and tucked his head down, breathing in his lover's scent. Just a few moments, he thought, fighting back regret, feeling the pain of separation begin to take hold.

Tucker stirred, beginning to waken and Reed tightened his hold for a brief moment, rubbing one hand down the muscled back. Dropping a loving kiss on the man's temple, he spoke quietly, releasing him as he did so.

"We're home, Trip," he said. "We're on Enterprise."

There was an indistinguishable murmur before blue eyes blinked open, still hazy with sleep. "We're home?" he mumbled.

"The captain wants to see us in sick bay." Malcolm tried desperately to ignore the appeal of a sleepy, befuddled chief engineer and kept his tone matter-of-fact and practical.

The blond head was buried in the pillow once again, his words muffled, but Reed was fairly clear what was being said.

"I don't want to go to sick bay, either," he remarked briefly. "But it wasn't a request. Is it okay if I use your shower?" With a sinking heart he recognised he was in retreat, even before he was sure he needed to be, he was pulling back behind his own emotional barricades.

"Help yourself."

"Don't go back to sleep," Malcolm warned, grinning despite his anguish at the disgusted grunt that order garnered.

Tucker woke fully as he heard Malcolm move into the bathroom. As he shifted in the bed he winced. For a moment he was still, feeling heat rise in a sudden and furious blush. In the stark surroundings of his quarters, his everyday, normal working life, the scale of the experience he had undergone became almost overwhelming. Shutting his eyes, he relived the memory; the moment he had welcomed--and he knew that was what he had done--Malcolm Reed into his body. It was an incredible experience, he owned, and he acknowledged he had been shocked by the pleasure that had rushed through him. He had remained on his back, his legs bent and splayed wide apart, the pillows from the bed providing some support under his hips. His gaze had been riveted on Malcolm's erect penis, hardly believing what was about to happen. Malcolm had taken plenty of time preparing him and Tucker knew he had held himself back until he was sure his lover was ready.

Flushing again, he accepted there could have been no doubt of that. Trip Tucker had unashamedly--and loudly--begged to be taken. And had enjoyed every moment of it.

He shied away from that truth, frightened by the view of himself it presented; so far away from the life he had fashioned and lived for so many years. More worrying was the knowledge that Malcolm would be willing to continue this and to enter into a relationship. For a few, wild moments he considered it, wondering what it would be like to accept Malcolm Reed as a partner, to live with him and share his bed. They fought like an old married couple already, he thought with a grin, and he already knew the sex would be as hot as hell. Memories of their past missions intruded; the times Malcolm had been injured; the way he would always put himself in the path of danger; and how would he explain to his friends, to his family back on Earth. How could he cope with Malcolm's own admitted inability to deal well with relationships? Suddenly the very idea terrified him and he pushed it away. No, he decided, Malcolm was his friend. Anything else was impossible. A sigh of relief shivered through him, a sense of something settled. They would stay friends, he thought, and put all of this behind them. With that decision made, he knew he had to transmit it to Malcolm as painlessly as possible.

When Malcolm quitted the bathroom Tucker had pulled a robe around himself, smiling at Reed as he walked past to take his place. Reed dressed slowly, ruminating on the fact all his garments were freshly laundered and carried the same scent as the sheets their shared bed on the planet. Misery twisted in his gut and he sighed, already fearing Tucker's reaction, and he struggled for control. By the time the commander returned, he had found a measure of calm, listening to the man's quick, nervous chatter and displaying no sign of his true feelings.

"Malcolm, y'know I'm just so glad it was you." Tucker continued dressing, talking easily although he would not look at Reed. "At least we'll be able to go back to bein' friends again and not get all upset about it."

"Yes," Malcolm managed quietly, and Tucker remained oblivious to the sadness which flitted across the Englishman's features.

When he looked up, Malcolm was smiling and holding out the sock he had been searching fruitlessly for. He made a face at the other man, satisfied by the soft laughter it elicited. As they left his quarters he reached out briefly and gripped Reed's shoulder. "You okay?" he asked softly, and was reassured by the response.

"Don't worry, Trip. I'm fine." The tone was brisk and was accompanied by a smile.

They headed for sick bay together, talking easily and taking no notice of the sideways glances and looks which the crew tried so unsuccessfully to hide as they passed. Archer and Phlox were waiting for them; the former clearly wanted to be there as little as they did but Phlox seemed his usual cheerful and unperturbed self.

"Ah, Mr. Tucker, Mr. Reed," he burbled, happily. "I must thank you for enabling me to study a part of your human mating rituals in such detail--"

"Doctor!" Archer looked scandalised and Phlox ground to a halt.

"I must apologise if I have offended you, gentlemen." Phlox appeared rather nonplussed and more than a little crestfallen, clearly wrong-footed once more by Humanity and its strange attitudes to sex.

"Don't sweat it, Doc," Tucker responded for them both, a sidelong look cataloguing Reed's stupefied embarrassment. "As long as we don't end up as some kinda case study in a medical journal." A warning note entered his voice.

If anything, the Doctor appeared even more disappointed. Sighing, he reached for a PADD and touched the buttons. "I have deleted my notes," he informed them, missing the two men exchanging appalled glances as he returned the PADD to the bench. "Now, let's check you are both fit for duty, shall we?"

With as good grace as they could manage they subjected themselves to a full physical, answering Phlox's questions, aware the examination covered more than simply the well-being of their bodies.

Archer hovered, his features anxious until Phlox pronounced them none the worse for their experience and advised the captain both were well enough to resume their duties. He turned to them.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "If you need some more time..."

He stopped as they both shook their heads and Tucker responded. "We're fine. And time isn't going to change the fact people are gonna be awkward around us for a while. We just need to get back to work--get things back to normal as soon as possible." Archer was intrigued by the glance he threw at Reed as he spoke.

Reed displayed no discernable reaction to Tucker's comment about normality, his expression one of polite agreement. "You know that's true, sir," he added his own opinion. It's going to be embarrassing enough for a few days--putting it off will just make it worse."

Archer smiled at him, his affection clear in his eyes and Tucker's own gaze narrowed, a fact not missed by the ever-observant doctor. "There's a senior staff meeting at 08.00." Conversationally, the captain continued: "The Dantrians have agreed to open trade negotiations with us. We can discuss what we need tomorrow. I'll see you both then." He did not mention the excruciating interview he had undergone, when the Tribune complimented him on the way the Human species had handled this first contact, and as he strode through the corridors back to his own quarters, the conversation returned to him.

Captain Archer was very much on his dignity as the Dantrian appeared on his screen, his expression austere as he waited for him to speak.

"Captain," the decided twinkle in the dark eyes did little to mollify him. "I am pleased to tell you that the Council of Raikon has agreed to open trade negotiations with your species. We were impressed by your handling of our demands."

"Really," Archer's voice dripped ice.

If anything, the twinkle became more pronounced. "You are not impressed by our methods, Captain," he acknowledged, drily, "yet how a race handles such matters between them is, we have found, often a close reflection of their general conduct. Your men were in a difficult situation, one we deliberately engineered, and yet they worked together, took care of one another." He hesitated. "We are an empathic race, Captain. You think our interest prurient and you are horrified by our insistence on allowing their crewmates to witness their...ordeal, as you term it, but it taught us more than you can ever know. It encourages us to believe that while Humanity is far from perfect, yet you strive to be the best you can. It is that knowledge which leads us to agree to further contact. We do not apologise, Captain, for pursuing a policy that has so far proved infallible. I suspect you would not expect us to."

Archer did not relax, but in response his words were more conciliatory. "I appreciate I am judging your actions by our own Human standards," he admitted, "but I could never be happy about putting my crew in that situation."

"And yet you asked them. You are the first species ever to do so. Some have left empty-handed, unwilling to undergo the test, others have insisted their crew participate. On no occasion has a leader consulted their crew. We were...surprised. And we are seldom surprised, Captain Archer."

The conversation ended shortly after that, leaving Archer with a headache and a bad taste in his mouth. The Tribune informed him his crew would be returned shortly and the Dantrians would be pleased to open trade negotiations. Only moments later T'Pol had commed him with the news that a transporter signal from the surface had shown on the sensors and Malcolm and Trip's biosigns were both showing in Tucker's quarters.

Sighing, he stepped into his own cabin and reached down to pet Porthos who had not shifted from his bed although his tail thumped on the cushion. He glanced at the clock and grimaced when he saw it was almost 5.00am. Stripping wearily, he clambered into his bed. Boy, he thought. Tomorrow is gonna be so much fun.

Malcolm and Trip made the journey back to their crew quarters in silence. They reached Reed's door first and Tucker paused as the man keyed in his code.

"Well...um..." he managed.

"I'll see you at the staff meeting, Commander." Reed's tone was cool and composed.

"Sure." Tucker turned away only to be halted by Malcolm's voice.

"Trip."

He faced Malcolm once again, relieved beyond words at the warmth in Reed's expression.

"It'll be all right, Trip."

Grinning in response, he said, "I know, Malcolm. You sleep well, now."

"You too, Trip," and he was gone.

Tucker stared at the closed door for a few moments before dragging himself towards his own quarters.

In his cabin, Reed leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. Breathing deeply, he searched for and found composure, swallowing regrets resolutely. Time to get on with your life, he advised himself. Time to let go of the fantasy.

Archer cleared his throat and attempted to glance around at the senior staff without actually catching anyone's eyes. There was an awkward pause before he finally spoke. "I guess we don't have to debrief about current events-" he began.

He was interrupted by a smooth English accent remarking, so very dryly. "No, sir, I think there's been quite enough debriefing already."

There was a moment's silence, no-one quite sure how to react, until the hiatus was broken by an undignified snort of laughter. Archer looked at his chief engineer, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. He couldn't help it, he began to grin too, and in seconds everyone except their Vulcan sub-commander was giggling hysterically. As he finally managed to control himself and wipe his eyes, the captain glanced at his armoury chief, catching the quiet satisfaction as well as the humour in the grey eyes. Malcolm had done this quite deliberately, he realised; using a silly joke to release the tension and embarrassment more effectively than any amount of talking could have. As he watched, he noted the silent communication that passed between Reed and Tucker; Reed's half tilt of his head, as if asking some question, and Tucker's nod in response. Interesting, thought Archer, very interesting indeed.

"Right, let's talk about dilithium, shall we?" and he steered the rest of the meeting onto the current trade negotiations. When they were done he dismissed them but added, "Malcolm, could I see you in my ready room, please?"

Reed flushed and then nodded, and again Archer saw the way Tucker took time to grip the man's shoulder in reassurance before he left.

When they entered the ready room, Reed immediately launched in. "I'm sorry if my comment was inappropriate--"

Archer raised a hand to stop him. "Actually, Malcolm, that was very finely judged--as well you know," he added shrewdly, waiting for the slight nod he received in acknowledgement before he continued, and his expression sobered abruptly. "This is about something else, entirely. Sit down, for a moment."

Suddenly wary, Reed sat, his form tense as he waited to hear what his captain had to tell him.

Embarrassment almost took over once more and Archer had to clear his throat before he could speak. "I assume you know we all saw--"

Reed broke in. "I rather imagined that would happen." Slight colour touched his cheeks but otherwise he appeared perfectly composed.

"I ordered all recording devices be disabled but you know I can't guarantee--"

"We both understand that, sir. Was there anything else?"

Archer wondered if he was ever going to manage to complete a statement without the man interrupting. "There is, Malcolm," he paused, and then he asked, "Do you know how long I've known Trip?"

"Almost ten years, he told me." Reed was looking puzzled, obviously wondering where the conversation was heading.

"I know him pretty well, well enough to know for all he appears to be an open guy, when he hides something, he really hides it--even from himself." He cursed his own ineptitude as he stumbled around, seeking words to explain clearly what he wanted to express.

"What exactly are you saying, sir?" There was exasperation in the English accent and Archer was aware all Reed wanted was to escape this entire encounter.

Refusing to be diverted he said, "I think you should see this." So saying, he punched a button on the console and turned the viewer towards Malcolm, cutting off his own view of it, and watched as Malcolm first blushed, then paled.

Malcolm stared at the screen, unable to tear his gaze away as he witnessed himself sprawled on his back, naked and clearly fast asleep. One arm was lying on the pillow, curved around his head, while the other was resting across his chest. And that hand was clutching Tucker's fingers. It was quite a picture, both erotic and desperately sad, and he swallowed hard. His eyes were transfixed by Trip's unguarded features, watching the man as he watched Malcolm Reed sleep. The blue gaze was soft, his mouth curved in a gentle--and very loving--smile. As he stared, Malcolm saw Trip lean forward to press his lips to the sleeping man's mouth--to his mouth--before he settled down and curled around the body by his side. Blankly he sat, still and silent, his eyes fixed on the sleeping figures locked in their embrace.

Eventually he sighed quietly, leaning forward to switch off the screen and he swallowed against the emotion rising to choke him. "Why did you show me this?" he asked huskily, meeting the sympathetic green eyes. That compassion almost undid him and his gaze flicked downward to settle on the floor. Anything rather than face or have to acknowledge such overt sympathy.

"I thought you should know, in case you--" He stopped as Reed shook his head.

"Are you planning to show him this?"

"That depends on you, Malcolm. What do you want to do?"

"You know him, Captain. What is he likely to do now?"

"I think he'll run," Archer responded bluntly, knowing that anything less than complete honesty was pointless with this man. "I think the first pretty, personable woman who catches his eye will probably catch him if she wants." He paused before he added his codicil. "Unless you do something to stop it?" He was intrigued by the expressions chasing across Malcolm's features; amusement, sadness, regret.

"Then she shall have him," he murmured, overriding his captain's surprised exclamation. "If he wants me, Captain, it has to be without any interference," and he held the green gaze for a moment. He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not convinced I could ever make him happy. But I am convinced I could hurt him a great deal. I would rather he found someone else." Reed was amazed by how sincere that patent lie sounded.

"Don't you think that should be his decision, Malcolm?" Archer asked softly.

A soft smile presaged the response, "But isn't that exactly what I'm doing, Jonathan?" He didn't seem to notice his slip from formality and Archer was too involved in his response to react, listening intently as the younger man concluded: "conscious or subconscious--Trip must make the decision. I will not push him into anything. And if he meets a pretty girl I will wish him well and get on with my life."

For a moment, staring at sad, resigned features, Jonathan Archer wanted to beat his best friend to a pulp. After which he wanted to sweep this man into his arms and provide him with the love he deserved. He rubbed his hands across his face. The thought came as no surprise to him whatsoever. He had long known of his own weakness where his armoury officer was concerned, and had known just as long that nothing would ever come of it. The thought of what Trip Tucker was throwing away had him shaking his head in disbelief. Yet Malcolm had the right to make his own decisions without anyone meddling--however well-meaning the motives.

"You have my word I won't interfere," he promised, soberly. "What do you want me to do with this?" and he gestured at the screen.

Reed's mouth twisted into the parody of a smile. "Delete it," he said, and there was a note of finality in his voice.

For a few weeks Tucker and Reed seemed to regain their usual camaraderie, interacting much as they had always done and there was only one marked change. The evenings they had begun to spend relaxing in one another's cabins stopped, and although they both mourned the loss of what had been an increasingly important element of their friendship, yet neither felt comfortable with suggesting they be reinstated. For Malcolm, the possibility Archer had shown him was a continual haunting presence. He understood why the man had done it and, being fully aware of Archer's attraction to him, was both impressed and humbled that he would seek to promote Malcolm's happiness at the cost of any chance of his own. There were times he cursed it though, times when he recognised something else entirely under Tucker's responses to him, when he knew without doubt if he engineered it then he could make this happen and could have what he so desired. Every time that thought reared its head he squashed it, afraid to follow where those thoughts might lead him and too aware of his own nature. He understood if he followed such a path he would spend the rest of his life unable to really trust what was between them. If he felt he had pushed Tucker into a relationship, he would never fully believe it was what the man wanted.

Instead, he concentrated on overcoming his own reticence, taking positive steps to strengthen their friendship once more, pleased when Tucker reciprocated and every exchange between them became easier. The initial embarrassment demonstrated by the crew soon passed and interaction became natural once more. That helped too, Malcolm realised, to bring them closer to the friendship they had shared.

By the time a new crew complement arrived, courtesy of the D'Kyr, both had regained an equilibrium, chatting easily as they saw off colleagues who would be leaving them for various reasons, and getting ready to welcome new members to both armoury and engineering teams.

The newcomers spilled out, mostly young ensigns and crewmen with only one female lieutenant amongst them. As soon as Malcolm saw her, Jonathan Archer's words returned to haunt him. She was not beautiful but there was something arresting about her features, an indication of strength of character. She was an inch or so shorter than he, her hair a dark brown, neatly confined and her grey eyes held a merry twinkle. Had it been only him, he would have liked her immediately, but instead, irrationally, he hated her on sight. For the moment he dismissed her from his mind, concentrating instead on welcoming those who would be joining his team, peripherally aware of Tucker carrying out the same with the new engineers. The crowd gradually thinned out and Malcolm watched in dismay as Tucker moved forward to talk to the woman, his famed charm already evident.

"Hi, you must be Lieutenant Winston? I'm Commander Charles Tucker the Third, but most people call me Trip. You're here to head up the biophysics team?"

She smiled at him, already entranced, and Malcolm Reed felt almost sick to his stomach as he witnessed them walk off together. A hand touched his elbow and a well-known voice murmured,

"Malcolm."

He turned to stare into his captain's eyes, his own gaze suffused with this new pain.

"I'm so sorry, Malcolm," There was a wealth of sympathy in the green gaze.

Tucker turned at that moment and saw the two men standing close together. Archer's hand was curled around Reed's arm, and Tucker experienced a surge of some unidentified emotion.

"Hey, Malcolm," he called. "We're getting' some coffee. You comin'?" For some reason he wanted to break that too intimate tableau.

Malcolm started, surprised by the call. "No," he responded and his voice was calm, not betraying himself to the commander, although Archer could see how much he was hurting. "I need to get to the armoury. I'll see you later." He strove for normality, turning away and murmuring, too quietly for Trip to hear. "I'll be fine, sir, don't worry."

Reed saw them the moment he walked into the mess that same evening, the two of them sitting with blond head close to dark, a foreshadow of the closeness and intimacy he knew would follow. Swallowing, he grabbed some soup, headed for a table and sat down facing away from them with the firm intention of ignoring them as much as was humanly possible. No point torturing himself unnecessarily, he reasoned, grimly.

He had managed to work his way through almost half of his meal, his unhappiness leaving him almost nauseous, making every mouthful difficult, before a voice he did not recognise asked, Would you mind if I joined you?"

Surprised, he glanced up to meet a dark brown gaze and was about to make his excuses until the man smiled, his teeth flashing as he grinned.

"It feels strange being a new boy."

Malcolm chuckled in sympathy as he remembered the feeling and he gestured at the empty seat. "Be my guest," he offered, and then "I'm--"

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Chief Armoury Officer. Everyone knows you, sir. I'm Ensign Pete M'Butu. I'm another pesky scientist I'm afraid--a geologist." Malcolm covered his confusion, but not well enough. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine, Ensign." Swiftly he diverted the topic of conversation back to M'Butu. "Tell me where you were posted before Enterprise?"

After a few moments Reed realised he was enjoying the man's conversation and company. Pete M'Butu was built along slighter lines than Travis Mayweather but possessed the same glossy, dark skin and a wide smile. He smiled often, drawing Malcolm out of himself and as he began to relax he also began to smile more, even laughing once or twice at M'Butu's entertaining account of his previous posting. Part way through a meal break that was extending way past his normal routine, he realised the younger man was attracted to him. The knowledge sent a brief flush to stain his cheeks before he accepted M'Butu was incredibly attractive and if it wasn't for Trip -

He frowned suddenly and Pete stopped in the middle of a sentence. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he apologised. "My Momma always warned me about the way I rattle on."

Reed hastened to reassure him. "It was nothing to do with you, Pete," he used his first name unconsciously, wondering at the sudden smile he received. "Something just occurred to me. It wasn't important," he dismissed Trip Tucker and all his doings for the moment and remarked instead, "Crewman Standing is giving a guitar recital in the observation lounge later. You interested?" Oh, my God, he thought. Have I just asked him on a date?

The beaming grin was enough of a clue to M'Butu's belief and with an internal shrug, Reed smiled in return. When they were finally finished they left together and Reed did not so much as glance towards Trip's table.

Tucker had not been as oblivious as Reed surmised and he had stared across at the table, frowning at the sight of the two men deep in conversation. "Who's that?" he asked, idly.

Looking over, Meg smiled. "Pete M'Butu. He's a geologist. Just transferred in from Mars Colony. Pete's great," she enthused. "He's got this terrific way of telling a story..." she paused at the darkening expression and completely misconstrued it. "It would do me no good if I did like him," she sought to reassure Tucker. "He's only interested in men."

If anything, Tucker's frown deepened. "Really," he remarked coolly, casting a quick scowl at the two men who were still deep in their conversation, annoyed at how often Malcolm was laughing. "You want a tour of engineering?" he asked suddenly.

After a long journey, Winston was desperate to settle into her quarters, grab a shower and sleep, but she met the blue gaze, blushed and found herself responding. "I'd love to."

"You seem to be getting' on pretty well with that new guy."

"Pardon?" Reed wrenched his brain from the armoury upgrades about which he had been in full flow seconds before.

"That new guy--Pete somethin' or other," Tucker clarified, his eyes still fixed on the PADD bearing the specs they were discussing.

"Pete M'Butu," Reed responded shortly. "He seems nice enough."

"I guess."

Malcolm cast a quick glance at the set features and with a sinking heart recognised the jealousy at the base of this reaction. Casting his own finer feelings aside, he lightened his tone and remarked, "You certainly hit it off with our new lieutenant?"

His friend brightened. "Yeah, Meg's great. D'you know she once..."

Reed tuned out as much of Trip's burbling enthusiasm as he could and tried to be grateful that he had at least diverted the man's attention from M'Butu.

His own friendship with the ensign deepened over the following weeks and he was well aware Pete was ready and more than willing to move forward from friendship to relationship. Guilt held Reed back, knowing he was still deeply in love with Tucker and unable to commit to someone else. Some time soon, he accepted, he was going to have to come clean and at least partly explain his current unhappy situation. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. Constantly witnessing the growing closeness between Tucker and Winston didn't help at all. At first he had hoped it might defuse his own feelings and put them into some kind of perspective--at least allow him to move on and make the most of what Pete was offering. But as the days passed and his unhappiness grew, he realised this was a forlorn hope and his feelings for Tucker would not be easily subdued.

Reed was spending much more time with the young geologist, time he would once have spent with Tucker. Not that the other man noticed, he thought sourly, as he was with Meg Winston every time he saw him. Like now, when he joined Pete in the mess hall for movie night and there they were, giggling in the back row like a couple of teenagers. Sighing silently, he headed for the seat next to his new friend and tried to ignore the ever-growing ache in his heart caused by the old. It was more comforting than he would have imagined to sit close to Pete's warmth and respond to his gentle teasing. Tucker's familiar, much-loved laugh pealed out behind him and he did not object when his hand was grasped lightly. Instead, he turned his head to smile at M'Butu but missed the quick question in the dark eyes as the younger man witnessed the sadness in his expression. Malcolm was looking at their joined hands and twined their fingers together, gratified when he looked up and saw the wide grin flashed his way.

When the movie ended they left together, Malcolm barely glancing at Tucker as they edged past a crowd from engineering of which he was the cheerful centre. As they moved towards the exit Tucker's flow of chatter tailed off and he stared at the two men, his gaze sliding down until he saw their joined hands and unconsciously he frowned. For some reason the sight of them so obviously together annoyed him, and the way Malcolm all but ignored him irritated him even more. There was a brief moment of time when his mind searched for a reason as to why this was so before he shied away from the subject. Then he shrugged and slipped his arm around Meg's waist to pull her closer to him, grinning down into her face as he dropped a light kiss on her lips.

"Time for us to go," he said, and ushered her from the room.

Reed and M'Butu walked back to Malcolm's quarters in a comfortable silence and when they arrived Pete was invited in. Although they had been dating for some weeks, this was the first time he had entered the lieutenant's room and he glanced round curiously at the austere space.

"You're not a pack rat, then?" he joked, before he pulled Malcolm into his arms and silenced the chuckle with his lips.

Malcolm responded, his eyes shut and his hands gripping the strong shoulders as he deepened the kiss, licking the man's lips until the mouth opened sweetly beneath his and allowed his tongue to dive into that moist heat. He slid his hands up until they were wrapped around M'Butu and tried to forget everything but this moment. But somewhere in the back of his mind he admitted this was not who he wanted, and his conscience demanded to be heard. Regretfully, he ended the embrace, disentangling himself gently before he moved back to sit on the edge of the bunk, gazing down at his clasped hands as he wondered how to begin.

M'Butu stared at him in some confusion. "I'm sorry--" he began, but was silenced by Reed's shaking head.

"This isn't fair, Pete." He looked up and met the concerned gaze. "I'm in love with someone," he stated baldly. There was no point beating about the bush. He had left this explanation too long already. "He doesn't want me but I can't help the way I feel. And I don't like using you to try and get over him."

There was a short silence before any response was forthcoming. "What if I don't mind?"

"Pardon?" It was not at all the reaction he was expecting.

M'Butu grinned at him, though in truth it was a little forced. "I appreciate your honesty, Malcolm. It's one of many things I like about you." His voice was soft, and the smile became more natural at the sight of the blush staining the high cheekbones. "I'd like to know you better. I'd like the chance to maybe change your opinion. Let me take the gamble?"

It was a crazy offer, reflected Reed. If Pete had any sense at all he should be running for the hills right now. And if he were nobler he would not even consider accepting it. But despite everything, this young man had eased his life over the past few weeks and his easy, uncomplicated friendship had helped him face each day. Reed shook his head, almost angry at himself as he made his decision, yet he was smiling and M'Butu smiled hesitantly in response. "You're completely mad," he was informed, but as the statement was presaged by Malcolm's arms twining around his waist, he didn't read too much into the insult.

Tucker was awake, unused to sharing his bunk and, however hard he tried, he found himself unable to banish the memory of the last time he had done so. Meg stirred in his arms and he tightened his hold on her. He was happy, he told himself firmly. In all his life he had never been so happy. Throughout the long night he lay, eyes open, telling himself how happy he was.

Malcolm was awake, spooned behind the sleeping form of his new lover, his arm looped around the younger man's waist, absently noticing the contrast of his pale arm against the dark gloss of Pete's skin. The sex had been good, there was no denying it. Pete was eager to please and was an accomplished and passionate lover. Yet Malcolm knew he was desperately unhappy, unable to deny how much he wished it were Tucker responding so ardently to him. Throughout the long night he lay, thinking of the man he loved, plagued by guilt and shame at the way he was treating Pete M'Butu.

Over the next six months the two relationships seemed to move forward in parallel, and only Archer on the sidelines recognised that Reed and M'Butu's growing closeness generated a corresponding advance in Tucker's concentration on Meg Winston. He showered time and attention on the young woman and Winston was clearly oblivious to any undercurrents, basking at the centre of Tucker's life. Reed was coping by ignoring them as much as possible, drawing back from the friendship the two men had shared, remaining pleasant and polite off-duty in his few encounters with Tucker, unfailingly correct when they interacted on duty. Archer, as captain, had no right to interfere as their conduct and the carrying out of their duties remained exemplary. As their friend, he watched with a growing concern and felt just as stymied as the captain.

For the moment he shelved his concerns as the comm. by his door sounded and he invited Tucker in.

"Thanks for agreein' to see me, Captain," he began formally and Archer glanced curiously at him.

"Sit down, Trip, and tell me what's on your mind." Tucker appeared unaccountably nervous, he thought, watching as the man arranged himself on the chair, fidgeting and running his hands through his hair. Eventually he had to prompt, dryly, "Any chance you might be about to tell me what's going on?"

His friend flushed and then grinned at him. "Sorry," he offered, and then took a deep breath. "Thing is, I asked Meg to marry me last night."

Archer knew his shock was obvious and gathered his composure as quickly as he could. "I...really?...I didn't expect..." he stammered, then managed to blurt out at the slightly hurt expression on the man's features. "That's great, Trip. Congratulations." He paused for a moment and then asked cautiously, "Have you said anything to Malcolm?"

Tucker looked blankly at him. "Why would I mention it to Malcolm? We've never dated or anything."

Sighing, Archer scrubbed his hands across his face. "But you can't deny you shared a very intimate experience--"

"Yeah an' we dealt with that." Tucker cut him off. "It's in the past and there was nothin' between us." He clearly decided enough had been said concerning it as he continued. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if we could have a party an' invite everyone so we can announce it."

Tell him in front of everyone? My God, Trip, thought Archer, could you think of anything more calculated to hurt someone who loves you? From somewhere he found a smile for the other man, understanding that Trip was unaware of his own motivation right now and would be horrified to know how much this would hurt Reed. But Archer knew this was not the time to broach it. Tucker was nowhere near ready to admit his own feelings. Instead, he was running away from them--as fast and as hard as he could. "Tomorrow night," he suggested. "I'll have a word with Chef for you."

"Thanks, Jon," Tucker grinned at him. "An' don't spoil my surprise before then, okay?" He sounded almost anxious.

"I promise I'll be circumspect." And he would, he thought, circumspect enough to stop another of his friends undergoing a humiliating experience. He had chosen his words carefully--he had not promised to keep the engagement a secret.

After Tucker had gone, he sat in silence for some time, wondering how Malcolm was going to react to this news. With a sigh, he called up the roster and noticed the armoury chief was off-duty. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he headed for the man's quarters and spent the journey attempting to find some way of imparting his news without causing more pain. Never had the walk been completed so quickly, he felt, and he was no nearer a solution when he was finally faced with pressing the comm.

Reed invited him in to the obsessively neat space and was unable to hide his apprehension. It showed in the tension evident in every line of his body and in the pallor of his skin. Clearly he was not expecting good news.

Archer hesitated. "Malcolm," he began and then floundered to a halt, unaware his compassion was clear in the direct gaze he levelled at the lieutenant.

Reed drew his breath in as a sharp gasp, and then from somewhere dredged up a twisted smile. "Better just say it, Captain," he advised. "I can already tell I'm not going to like it."

He was right, Archer realised. There was no way to soften this blow--and Reed was not the type of man to appreciate any attempt to do so. "Trip came to see me today. He's asked Lieutenant Winston to marry him."

There was the briefest of moments when he saw the man's heart finally break, witnessed the agony surface in the grey eyes, and then it was gone, buried under a polite mask of interest. "I rather thought it might be something along those lines," he said, his tone conversational. "Thank you for telling me." There was a formal edge to his tone, coupled with a finality, as if he was drawing the subject to a complete close.

Archer could not just let it go like that, too stunned by the brief glimpse of pain. "I know you don't want me to say anything, Malcolm," he spoke quietly, the sympathy clear in his voice though he refrained from expressing it. "And I won't. Just remember I'm your friend, too."

From somewhere Reed found a genuine smile. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your support."

When Archer left Reed moved across to sit on his bunk, his hands hanging down loosely between his knees. Despite his words to the captain, he realised now that he had still been harbouring faint hopes that Tucker would come to his senses as far as Reed was concerned, and realise he was not actually in love with the young woman.

Perhaps he was.

The traitorous thought slipped into his conscious mind and his fists clenched in reaction. Some small part of him wanted to rush to Tucker's quarters and throw the type of jealous fit that would keep the ship's gossip mill going for weeks. Closing his eyes, he shook his head as he tried to imagine the scenario but could only see it degenerate into utter farce. Histrionics and grand fits of passion were just not his way, he accepted, his mouth twisting wryly as he decided that suffering in silence was much more his style. Somehow, at this juncture, he didn't think either approach would make a difference.

Well, Malcolm, my lad, he decided dismally. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Hollow words.

The party was in full swing before Reed made his appearance, firmly intending to disappear into the milling crowd as much as possible. Gratefully he accepted a glass of champagne from Chef with a smile and a brief word, before he moved immediately to join Pete M'Butu. Archer, his awareness heightened by his knowledge of both men and their current situation, saw Tucker watch him, and knew the commander had waited deliberately for the lieutenant's arrival before making his announcement.

"Hey, everyone." Trip said nothing further until he was sure he had gained the attention of all in the room before he grinned down at Meg as he wrapped an arm around her waist. She smiled up at him, clearly happy and very much in love. They made a handsome couple, Trip in casual pants and a soft blue shirt, Meg slim and glowing, her russet dress flattering her curves.

Trip's grin softened and he leaned in to kiss her briefly before he spoke. "Glad you could all be here with us tonight. I wanted to tell everyone that Meg has agreed to marry me, and to tell you all that I'm the luckiest man in the Universe."

There were some startled looks and a few sidelong glances towards Reed from others in the crew who had known of their encounter with the Dantrians, but he was standing with what appeared to be a genuine smile on his face, his free arm looped around Pete M'Butu's waist, and people relaxed, allowing a scattering of applause to ripple through the room.

Archer stepped forward into the slight pause. "I'm sure the whole crew would like to join me in a toast. To Trip and Meg," and he raised his glass, seeing the action repeated throughout the room. The next few moments passed in a flurry of congratulations, a procession of people queuing up to shake hands and hug the couple, and Archer watched from the sidelines as Malcolm Reed stepped forward during a lull in the festivities.

"Commander," he began, and then smiled. "Trip. I want to wish you every happiness. You deserve it." The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable and Tucker returned the smile, reaching out to take the hand extended towards him and he captured it in a strong grip.

Archer took in a sharp breath as the air around the two men seemed to still. Surely, he thought, *Trip must realise now? * Both smiles faded as their gazes locked and for a moment it looked as if Tucker was about to speak, tightening his grasp on Reed's fingers and pulling the smaller man towards him. Then the tableau was broken suddenly as Meg clutched at Tucker's arm and passed a laughing remark. Malcolm let go of Trip's hand and smiled politely at her before he turned away, unaware of Tucker's puzzled expression as he watched him go.

Archer cornered Reed some time later. "Malcolm?" he began and then hesitated.

The lieutenant smiled at him. "Captain. I think Chef is a romantic at heart," he offered lightly, rushing on before the man could say anything. "Pete has rather a taste for champagne. He's just gone for a refill. I'm on duty in the morning." He was aware he was almost babbling, rattling short sentences out one after another, but he didn't think he could cope with sympathy at this precise moment.

The captain gazed shrewdly at him and then inclined his head in tacit understanding. "Well, I don't want a tactical officer with a thick head," he joked lightly. "Lord knows what you might blow up by mistake." He saw the flash of relief in the grey gaze.

Reaching out, Reed gripped his captain's arm in his own silent appreciation. "Good night, sir," he said, softly and walked past.

Archer turned his head to watch him as he approached M'Butu and spoke quietly to him, and as he tracked his progress through the room towards the mess hall doors his gaze was caught by Tucker. He raised his glass in a silent salute, obscurely cheered by the way the blond man's eyes glanced at Reed and then him. Even at this distance he could see the narrow, suspicious gaze. Maybe that's it, he thought. Maybe I should try and make Trip jealous. As soon as it occurred to him, the idea was put aside. Sighing, he knew his promise not to interfere still held. And if one took into account his own feelings for the lieutenant, it would at the least make any such attempt ambiguous.

Reed quietly but firmly refused Pete's offer of company and walked back to his quarters in a daze, feeling rather as if he had been gut-punched. Once there he showered and clambered into his bunk, shutting his eyes and trying to deny the pain of his memories and the reality of this situation. All he could do, he realised, was to try and draw away from the other man even further. He would get over this, he told himself, fiercely, and one day he would fall in love with someone who deserved him.

He dreamed of Tucker, waking in the night tangled in the sheets, his body on fire. With a low, defeated groan he gave in, wrapping his hand around his cock and he brought himself to a rapid, unsatisfying completion. As he came, he cried out Trip's name.

"Hey, Malcolm, wait up."

It was over a week since the engagement party and Reed had managed to avoid Trip entirely for the intervening period. He couldn't help it, his hold on his emotions was gradually weakening and he knew one wrong word could conceivably unleash a storm. The only way he could think to deal with it was to stay as far away from Trip as possible--at least until he found an equilibrium once more. If any of his staff thought it odd that their armoury chief sequestered himself away and worked through intermediaries, they did not comment, even amongst themselves. Silently he sighed, wishing he had been able to prolong that avoidance for a little longer, still not sure he could really face this. He turned, waiting for the other man to catch up to him, and schooled his features into a polite mask.

"Commander? What can I do for you, sir?"

Tucker halted in his tracks, frowning briefly as something he had not before noticed suddenly made its way into his consciousness. Pushing it to one side for the moment, he pressed on with his reason for stopping the man. "I got the specs you sent for the remodelling of that power coupling."

"Yes, sir."

"It looks good. D'you think we should run some simulations or go straight for the remodel?"

"I did do some general tests to check power drain, Commander, but it would be wiser to carry out a wider spectrum of trials to identify any issues in operation."

"Let's schedule that in for next week?"

"Yes sir. I'll identify personnel and work up the duty rosters, Commander."

Tucker frowned again and then spoke: "Malcolm, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course, Commander."

"When did you stop callin' me Trip?"

There was a long silence as they regarded one another, Reed shocked by the question and desperately searching for a response, any response that would extricate him from such a loaded enquiry. For once he was thankful to hear a light, female voice behind him.

"Trip? Are you on your way home?"

Home. Pain ripped through him then, but he managed to turn and face Tucker's fiancé, even dredging up a smile. "Hello, Lieutenant," he spoke quietly and then took the opportunity presented to him, "Excuse me, Commander," as he walked away swiftly, knowing Tucker was unlikely to call him back.

Meg glanced up at Tucker, slipping a hand under his elbow and leaning up to press her lips to his, smiling at him. He smiled back absently, but his attention was all on the slim, straight figure walking swiftly along the corridor, baffled by the flash of pain he had witnessed in the grey eyes.

"Was Malcolm bothering you again?" she asked.

"Pardon?" he asked, surprised by the enquiry.

"You used to complain about him all the time when we first started going out. I thought things were better recently--you haven't mentioned him as much."

He stared down at her in shock and searched his memory for any occasion when he had talked about Malcolm at all, and to think he would complain. His eyebrows drew together in a sudden frown and he said, sharply, "Malcolm's my friend."

It was Winston's turn to look surprised. "Oh," she began and then floundered to a halt. Trip was looking at her as if he'd never seen her before and she was unnerved by the expression on his face. She cast around for a rapid change of subject. "What time do you want to get dinner tonight?"

Tucker grasped at the diversion. Really, he didn't want to think about Malcolm or the way their friendship had deteriorated over the past months. Instead, he wrapped an arm round Meg's waist and spoke idly, "Whenever you want, darlin'" turning away with her as he tried to put the whole incident out of his mind.

For Meg Winston that was not so simple. The uncomplicated man she had fallen in love with had suddenly developed another facet in his character and she experienced some uneasiness, beginning to wonder what else was hidden beneath that deceptively simple veneer.

"How's it going, Lieutenant?"

Reed turned and grinned at his visitor. "Pete," he spoke warmly. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" It was an unusual occurrence as both men worked hard to ensure no-one could question their professionalism or attention to duty.

"Just wondered if you were up for the movie tonight?"

"What's playing?" he asked suspiciously, too used now to their widely diverging tastes to accept the invitation at face value.

M'Butu laughed at him. "You'll like it, trust me."

"When it comes to movies--not a chance," Reed retorted and grinned at the other man's ill-concealed amusement.

"What's goin' on here?"

Tucker's voice startled them both and Reed sobered as he turned to face a visibly annoyed chief engineer.

"The ensign wanted to ask me something," he answered, coolly and he smiled a reassurance at the concerned M'Butu. He sighed internally at the expression colouring the commander's features.

"It better be work-related, Ensign," Tucker snapped, unaccountably angered by the concern Reed was showing for the other man. "Because Mr. Reed here was supposed to be bringin' me the results of some simulations we're running--and we're already behind schedule."

Reed did not allow Pete to respond, laying a gentle hand on his arm to still the response he was trying to make. He left his hand there while he spoke. "Pete just got here--and I did inform you that we had to re-run one of the tests, Commander." Reed kept his voice mild, though his temper, never very even around Tucker these days, was beginning to get the better of him.

"Ensign M'Butu," Tucker added fuel to the fire of Reed's rising ire as he emphasised the rank, "shouldn't be here at all when you're both on duty." His gaze was riveted on that point of contact between the two men and his voice was caustic as he continued. "You need to keep your personal and private life separate, Mr. Reed."

Fury and hurt rose like gall and for a moment Malcolm struggled to find anything to say which would not end up with Pete in the middle of a bitter quarrel. He was aware of the young man standing uncomfortably by his side, while everyone else in the armoury seemed to have scattered. M'Butu's glance was moving between them and it appeared as if he was just beginning to understand what was going on. Malcolm's heart sank, as the brown gaze locked with his for a brief moment and he saw the question there.

His tone was icy cold, in direct contrast to Tucker's angry heat. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion in my office, Commander." He paused and his tone thawed as he smiled at the younger officer. "Pete, I'll see you later, okay? Off you go, now." The words were kindly spoken, the tone one of a senior officer to a junior, not of one lover to another and Reed saw M'Butu bite his lip as he recognised the difference. He waited until they were alone before he turned his attention to Tucker. The other man seemed about to speak but Reed forestalled him, his voice cooling markedly once more. "Commander," and he led the way into the small room. As soon as the door snapped shut behind him he let loose. "What the hell was that all about?" he demanded without preamble.

It struck Tucker forcibly that he sounded more natural, despite the obvious anger, than he had in any of their dealings over the past few months. For a moment he was aware he was over-reacting and had made a fool of himself as well as humiliating both Reed and M'Butu. Reed's righteous anger, however, coupled with his shame at his own actions, sparked his temper once again. "You are on duty, Lieutenant," he ground out, "not conductin' your personal affairs." Inside he knew, knew, he should apologise and try to forget the whole incident, but the memory of Malcolm's open, cheerful countenance as he spoke to M'Butu triggered further anger.

Reed could not believe what was happening. Where had their friendship gone, he wondered miserably. How could things have degenerated to this level? Shrugging aside those questions he decided all he could do was accept he had, as he had feared he would and as Tucker had promised would never happen, lost the most important friendship in his life--and clearly any remote chance of anything more. Burying his misery he just stared at Tucker for a moment before he commented tightly, "If you have a complaint to make about my conduct, Commander, I suggest you make it directly to my line officer, Sub-commander T'Pol. In the meantime, I suggest we both get back to the simulations, sir."

True to his own advice, he continued coolly, "The final test results should be ready within the hour, Commander. I'll bring them directly to engineering, sir." And without another word he moved past the commander and was gone, moving swiftly to engage members of his team.

Tucker hesitated, shocked by the brief glimpse of misery he had witnessed and in a shattering moment understood the man had now more or less shut himself off from him. His anger leached away finally. How had he let this happen, he wondered, well aware this was almost entirely his doing. Helplessly the thought slipped into his mind. Oh God, Malcolm, I'm so sorry. He watched him work for a moment, chewing his lip as he tried to think of some way to redeem the situation. Taking a half step forward, he was about to speak but one of the armoury team approached and her openly curious look jolted him out of his reverie. Malcolm turned his back as he dealt with the woman and Trip accepted this as dismissal, making his way back to engineering, trying to sort through his bewildered thoughts.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Tucker jumped, and it briefly crossed his mind that he really hated being called sweetheart, before he forced a smile to his face and turned to Meg, presenting his cheek for her offered kiss. As he pulled back his heart plummeted.

Malcolm Reed was standing there, a PADD in one hand, his face an expressionless mask. His eyes, however, spoke volumes and with his own awareness now heightened, Tucker could read everything Reed wanted to say but would not. There was a moment of complete stillness before he closed his eyes briefly and accepted the PADD, muttering, "Thanks, Lieutenant."

Reed smiled thinly at Meg. "Hello, Lieutenant. Is there a problem in the biophysics lab?"

It was as close to nasty as Reed was going to get, Tucker knew, and Winston stared at the man curiously, moving closer to her fiancé and slipped a hand through his arm. "No, I just thought I'd stop by and see how Trip was." She appeared uncomfortable, picking up on the charged atmosphere.

"How lovely," Reed murmured, casting one more fulminating glance at Tucker, who was working hard not to compound his feelings of guilt, standing still and fighting against the urge to extricate himself from Meg's hold, before he excused himself and left.

When he had gone Tucker was again left feeling deeply unhappy with his own reactions and for once was almost oblivious of Meg's continued presence. Only the acerbic edge to her naturally cheerful tones made an impact.

"You clearly don't want me distracting you," she said, snappily. "I'll go somewhere I'm wanted."

Cursing himself--and Malcolm--in equal measure, he spent a few moments smoothing her ruffled feathers before sending her on her way.

If Reed appeared distracted for the rest of his shift, the armoury team loyally put it down to the difficulties they were experiencing over the current tests and none of them alluded to the scene with Tucker. Reed was grateful for their silent support as he worked his way doggedly through the day, trying to ignore the occasional memory that threatened to overwhelm him. Clearly he could not go on like this. He had to determine a course of action. Gratefully his tactical mind seized upon that--examine the options and determine a course of action, he decided.

At the end of his shift he headed straight for M'Butu's quarters.

Pete welcomed him in, but was solemn, as if expecting the worst. They sat in silence for a few moments before Malcolm said softly, "I'm sorry, Pete, I never wanted to hurt you."

The dark man shrugged. In keeping with his nature he appeared sanguine but Reed could see the hurt in his gaze and cursed himself. "You never lied to me, Malcolm." He hesitated. "You told me you were in love with someone else. I've never asked but...Commander Tucker?" He raised his eyebrows as he asked, waiting for Reed's confirming nod before continuing. "I wondered before, y'know. I know he's with Lieutenant Winston but he never seemed to like me and I never could understand why. Does he know how you feel?"

"Pete--I--" He shook his head, knowing he did not want to discuss Tucker with M'Butu. It was unfair of him, because of everyone Pete deserved to know what had happened and how he had ended up in this situation. But it was too much for him to cope with right now. Why couldn't he settle for Pete, he wondered miserably, someone who made him laugh and not cry, who never made him angry, who cared for him and did not demand, someone he understood and who never delved too deeply into Malcolm Reed's motivations and passions.

That was why, he accepted almost immediately. Tucker challenged him in every way, made him face himself and deal with his own failings, brought out the very best as well as the very worst in him. When they weren't fighting they were a complementary team, balancing once another in ways that defied explanation. Sighing, he looked helplessly into the dark gaze. "You deserve so much better than this, Pete," he murmured, "better than anything I can give you."

Solemnly, M'Butu agreed. "I know, Malcolm, but remember, I told you I'd take the risk. I can't blame you now because it hasn't worked out. It's okay. I'll survive." He paused. "Perhaps it would be better if I requested a transfer?"

"God, no," Reed broke in, although the words sparked something within his own mind. "I know you love it on Enterprise, Pete. I won't let you do that. These things sort themselves out in the end, you know." He managed to smile.

"It's not fair," M'Butu burst out suddenly, his own grievance overshadowed for a moment by his ex-lover's obvious unhappiness. "Why can't he let you be with someone else? What right does he have to mess things up for you like this?"

"Don't..." Malcolm held his hands up, halting the other man's tirade. "Please don't, Pete. It doesn't change anything." There was a short hiatus before Malcolm sighed and got to his feet. "I'd better go." He paused at the door. "You've been good for me, Pete. Thank you," and he was gone.

As break-ups go, he thought as he wandered dazed and sad towards his quarters, that went rather well.

When Tucker stepped into the mess hall with Meg he scanned the room, unconsciously searching for Malcolm and his gaze fell on Pete M'Butu. The young man was sitting with a group from his own science department. There was no sign of Malcolm. As he took his seat, listening with half an ear to Meg's light chatter, M'Butu turned to meet his gaze and the hostility in the dark eyes shocked him. He averted his own gaze quickly. They must have broken up, he thought, and was ashamed because he was glad. With a smile, he slid his arm around Meg's shoulders and settled down to watch the movie, trying to dismiss thoughts of Malcolm from his mind.

"Captain? Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Malcolm. Come in."

Reed had not entered Archer's private quarters very often and looked around curiously as he walked into the cabin. His solemn features broke into a smile as Porthos scampered across the deck towards him, slithering to a stop and rising on his hind legs.

"Sorry, Porthos," he said, leaning down to caress the dog. "No cheese here, I'm afraid."

Archer regarded him as he fussed the pet for a few moments, taking in the dark shadows under the eyes, the tense set to the shoulders, and felt his heart sink.

"Why don't you sit down," he invited, and without waiting for a response he turned to his small fridge and extracted a couple of bottles of beer. "We're off duty," he reminded his subordinate, grinning at the raised eyebrow.

"Thanks." Reed accepted the bottle with a smile, turning it around between his hands, staring at it until finally he was prompted.

"Something on your mind, Malcolm?"

A weak grin was cast at him. "That obvious?" Reed asked, and then sobered. "You know I was seeing Pete M'Butu?" He continued at Archer's nod. "There was a bit of an...argument...in the armoury yesterday. Pete came by to see me and Commander Tucker took exception to it."

"He what?" Archer was appalled. "Why?"

There was a long silence, Reed clearly debating his next words. "You and I both know why, Captain. He doesn't want me--but he doesn't want anyone else to have me either." It was a blunt appraisal of the situation he found himself in, but after yesterday's events there was no way he could deny what was staring him in the face. Baldly, he continued, "You know I've been talking to R and D in San Francisco?" He waited for the assent before he finished, "They've offered me a job--I think I should take it."

"Transfer off Enterprise? Is that what you really want?" Archer couldn't believe it.

"In an ideal world--no. I'd rather stay here and make the journey with you all." For a moment the longing in his voice was almost palpable. "This ship has been more of a home to me than anywhere I've ever been. But, Captain," he forestalled the objections he could see forming, "if I don't leave then the situation is only going to deteriorate. I want to retain Trip as a friend but if I stay I'm going to lose that. I came very close to saying some unforgivable things yesterday. If I lose my control it will generate a similar response in Trip. Quite frankly if it was two other officers involved then I, as your head of security, would be telling you that one of them had to go." He paused for a moment, waiting for Archer's nod of agreement before he proceeded. "I'd like to think once there's some distance between us and once..." he stumbled over the statement, "once he and Meg are married, then perhaps I could come back?"

Watching his face, Archer realised he had no idea of the hope that entered both his voice and expression at that point, and his own mind whirled. Perhaps, he thought, Malcolm was right and a separation was for the best. With his own knowledge of Tucker's character, he began to see that a distinctly different outcome was a possibility. He knew better that to pass any of those thoughts onto his subordinate, however, aware they would not be welcome. Apart from which, he acknowledged, he had no right to raise hopes when he had not spoken to Tucker and gauged his reactions. Sighing, he scrubbed his hands through his hair and suggested, "How about we arrange a secondment in the first instance, to be reviewed in six months? And that will be between you and I. As far as anyone else is concerned, you will have transferred off Enterprise."

Malcolm looked at him, surprised. "I didn't think you would consider a secondment."

"You're still the best armoury officer in the Fleet, Malcolm. If I can possibly keep you I will. Hell," he laughed, "If I thought I had a chance of changing your mind then that's what I would be working on instead!"

Reed blushed at the compliment and smiled his appreciation at his captain, although he did not respond directly to it. Instead, he asked, "I'd rather Trip didn't know until after I've gone?"

"Are you sure that's wise? You know what he's like."

"He'll be angry whatever happens, Captain. And quite frankly I'd rather be spared. I'm not sure I could..." he stopped and swallowed. The thought of trying to tell Tucker he was leaving, or even to let Archer tell him was too overwhelming. Given Trip's current state of mind and his own fevered imagination, a procession of difficult and downright nasty scenarios rolled through his mind. For the moment he had control--somehow he had to retain that. He stared helplessly at his captain, unaware of the vulnerability in his expression.

The sight wrung the man's soft heart and he briefly cursed Tucker, fighting his own impulse to leap up and pull the man into a hug. He would intend it as an offer of comfort but knew even so it would be unwelcome and instead he said, sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Malcolm," before he ventured, "I thought you and Pete were happy?"

He shook his head. "It was always fairly casual. I told him at the start I was in love with someone else."

Oh, Malcolm, Jon thought helplessly. Of course you did.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"I am, too, Captain." Reed finally raised his bottle, tilting it in a silent salute towards his CO before downing most of the contents in one long swallow.

"I'll talk to Starfleet about the secondment. There's a ship due to make a trip from Earth to Vulcan in a week or so. They can bring out a replacement and take you with them. How does that sound?"

"Just lovely." It was a dry response. "And Trip?" he questioned, suddenly anxious.

"I won't say a word. I promise." In direct contrast to his words to Trip over the engagement party, this statement was unequivocal. He would not say a word to Tucker, despite a fairly good idea of the man's reaction once he found out.

"Hi?" Tucker stopped in confusion as he walked into the armoury to be confronted with someone he had never seen at the centre of a group comprising staff from both armoury and security teams.

The man was older and was of a stocky build. He was about the same height as Reed, Tucker noted absently, but was considerably wider in girth. His hair was thinning and was a salt and pepper colour, with his hazel eyes suggesting he had been sandy-haired in youth. The features were pleasant and good-natured, a round face and a wide, generous mouth stretching into a smile.

"Commander Tucker?" He stepped forward. "I'm sorry, Commander, I just wanted to introduce myself to the duty team. I was on my way to see you. Lieutenant Commander Ascot--I'm your new chief tactical officer."

There was a distinct, almost horrified, silence as Tucker glanced round the room, meeting gazes which expressed the same shock he was experiencing. Without a word he spun on his heel and headed for the bridge. There was no other thought in his mind beyond the need to find out where Malcolm was. It was not until much later he realised he had been abominably rude. For the moment, however, he was aware only of a sick certainty, a knowledge that Malcolm had left and had not even told him he was going.

Ascot raised an eyebrow at the hasty departure but his new captain had informed him that Lieutenant Reed had notified no-one of his intention to leave and had requested he did not mention his posting was only for six months. Putting two and two together and coming up with a variety of answers, he turned back to his new team. "Where were we?" he asked, pleasantly, making no comment about Tucker's extraordinary behaviour.

In the meantime Archer was expecting his chief engineer and provided him with no opportunity to open his mouth, rapping out, "My ready room, Commander," the instant Tucker erupted out of the turbolift with volcanic rapidity and barrelled onto the bridge. Archer followed him into the room, one glance at T'Pol enough for her to realise they were not to be interrupted.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Archer was treated to the sight of his best friend behaving just like a spoiled child, Tucker unable to contain himself any longer.

"You knew!" he accused. "God damnit, you're supposed to be my best friend. How could you let him go and not tell me?"

It was almost a cry of anguish and Archer wondered if his friend had any idea how much he was giving away. "Enough, Commander," he snapped out and his tone of voice was enough to stop the man's angry torrent of words. Calmly he continued, "It was Malcolm's decision to go. And it was Malcolm's decision that no-one was told. For some reason he thought you might react badly." And he met the blue gaze squarely.

Tucker's expression was more revealing than Trip realised, his best friend able to see beneath the anger to the hurt--and the sense of loss--beneath. Tucker broke the locked gaze, uncomfortably aware he was behaving badly and unable to comprehend why he felt so devastated by Malcolm's departure.

Quietly, Archer urged, "Sit down, Trip."

Slumping into a seat Trip put his head in his hands. "Why'd he go, Captain? I know things haven't been right between us," he scowled, "ever since Pete M'Butu turned up--but we coulda worked it out."

Now there was a telling statement, thought Archer and he responded mildly, "Ensign M'Butu wasn't the only new crewmember on that intake."

There was a long silence. Tucker flushed and moved uneasily, thinking back over the months since M'Butu and Winston had arrived on Enterprise. In the cold light of day he wondered why he had been so immediately attracted to the woman. She was great and he loved her, he reminded himself fiercely, but even at the time his actions had surprised himself. Only now could he accept that the experience he and Malcolm had gone through had left him open to anything which would reinforce the picture of himself he had nurtured for so long. What it didn't explain was his reaction when Malcolm had hooked up with M'Butu and even now he shied away from exploring that too closely.

One thing was abundantly clear, however, and that was the major part his conduct had played in Malcolm's decision to leave. "I did this, didn't I?" he admitted finally. "That whole thing with Meg and with Pete. I just about made it impossible for him to stay."

"He wanted to keep your friendship, Trip, and he thought he was going to lose that if he stayed." Archer was surprised he had grasped it quite so quickly and seemed to be accepting his own culpability.

His friend's words, though mild, still stung and he became defensive once more. Whatever was going on, he thought, Malcolm should at least have tried to talk to him about it--not run off without saying one single word. "He should have talked to me." He uttered the thought aloud.

The tone of his voice had hardened once more and the captain sighed, recognising the brief respite and softening of Tucker's attitude had passed--leaving anger uppermost once more.

"Perhaps he should, but you know how Malcolm is, Trip, no-one knows him better than you. And he at least realised something was wrong." That really wasn't the most tactful thing he could have said, he acknowledged, and cursed his own feelings. The feelings which had him firmly off the fence on Reed's side on this occasion. Hastily he tried to redeem the situation. "Why don't you write to him? Tell him you're sorry he left?"

Trip's head came up and he stared at Archer, and now his tone was distinctly cool. "He wanted to get away from me, Cap'n. I guess I'd better let him get on with his life--and I'll get on with mine." Thoughts of Meg intruded--of the promises and commitment he had made to a bright, beautiful woman. "He's done the right thing."

"Trip," there was a warning note in Archer's voice. "You know he would never have left Enterprise unless he had to."

Tucker had the grace to look ashamed at that, some of his own conduct coming back to haunt him briefly. After a few moments he sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair, knowing that somehow he had to regain an element of Malcolm's friendship and acknowledging it was too important a part of his life to lose. "I will write, just not...not straight away. Okay?"

And with that, Archer knew, he would have to be content--for now.

Tucker returned to his quarters and slumped into the seat at the desk. Switching on the computer he opened a blank message and sat staring at the screen, trying to work past the anger and hurt Malcolm's departure had generated. Even with his admission of his own part in it, the man leaving like that still hurt.

So deep in thought was he that he barely registered the door opening, starting as hands covered his eyes and a voice filled with laughter asked, "Guess who?"

Gripping the hands lightly, he pulled them away from his face and turned to smile rather weakly at the young woman.

Her demeanour changed the moment she saw his face. "What's the matter?" she asked, her tone softening in sudden concern.

"Malcolm's gone," he responded, bluntly. His gaze was fixed on their joined hands and he missed the quick flash of relief that coloured the fresh complexion. "He shipped out with the Vulcans. I walked into the armoury and there's the new guy." There was silence for a moment and then he burst out, his tone aggrieved, "Malcolm didn't even tell me he was goin'."

"That's not so surprising, Trip," she said, gently, drawing her hands away and moving across to the locker, not really wanting to discuss Malcolm Reed. "It's not as if you were particularly close, is it?"

A picture flashed into his memory; Malcolm's face, lips parted and eyes closed as his body moved with his lover's in a rhythm as old as the human race. Flushing, he banished it, concentrating instead on his fiancé as she pottered around the small space. Realisation hit suddenly. "You're glad he's gone," he accused.

For a moment she was still before she turned to face him. "Honestly, yes I am," she admitted. "He always made me feel uncomfortable. As if he was judging me all the time." She shrugged. "I'm sorry you're upset, but I don't understand why." It was something that had puzzled her since she had joined Enterprise. Everyone seemed to act as if the two men were best friends, including her fiancé and yet she had never witnessed any evidence to support that. In fact, in the early days of their relationship all she ever heard from Trip in relation to the other man were complaints. She had rather welcomed it when he had eventually stopped talking about him at all. She was changing as she spoke and his gaze brushed over her, as if he was hardly aware of her. "I'm going down to the gym. Do you want to come?" she asked, trying to divert him.

"No, thanks."

"Come on, Trip," she used a cajoling tone of voice, "It'll do you good."

"I said no, Meg," he responded, shortly and she flushed at his tone.

"There's no need to be rude about it," she protested, realising there were times she hardly knew this man. The feeling unnerved her.

"Just leave it, will you." His tone was cold.

"Fine," she returned, grabbing some of her belongings and thrusting them into a holdall. "I'll see you tomorrow." She paused by the door but no voice called her back, nor did her fiancé rise from his seat. Biting her lip, she left.

Tucker hardly noticed her departure. He was staring at the blank message screen, wondering what on earth he could say. With a sigh he switched the machine off, moving to lie on his bunk and stare blankly at the overhead.

On the surface Malcolm Reed settled quickly into his new position at Starfleet Research and Development. His department was soon making strides in a number of areas of work that been stalled or moribund, and his superiors were soon just as busy filing promotion papers. They all agreed he was outstanding in his work although as one they all wished he was more relaxed with his staff. As one captain remarked to a commander, "I wonder if a smile has ever cracked his face."

Reed was coping in his usual fashion. He worked as many hours as anyone would allow him to work and spent as little time thinking about Tucker and Enterprise as he could. In fact, he soon accepted, he was trying so hard not to think of him that the man was seldom out of his thoughts. At odd times during the day or night he would want to talk to him, to tell him about some project he had in development, to ask his advice on how do deal with a personnel issue, to share a cup of coffee with him while saying nothing at all. And it was not just Tucker's presence he missed, he realised miserably, late one evening after his CO had all but bodily removed him from the lab, it was all his friends on Enterprise; the people who, although he had not told them and they may not know it, had become more dear to him than any he had ever known. They were his family and he was desperately homesick.

His life was brightened only by the letters he received from them; short notes from the captain telling him some of the details from their mission; beautifully written letters from Hoshi, her language conveying pictures of the places they visited and the people they met; letters full of fun from Mayweather, keeping him abreast of the gossip. Phlox and T'Pol wrote too, along with a surprising number of his former armoury staff. Even Pete M'Butu wrote, full of joy as he told Malcolm all about his new boyfriend and Malcolm sent a delighted response. He treasured each and every one of those letters, reading and rereading them.

He tried not to mind that Tucker had never written and almost believed it until he opened his mail one day and there it was. A letter from Trip. For a brief moment he almost deleted it, wondering if it might be less painful because he knew if it was full of news of his fiancé then he would feel worse than ever. It was a brief impulse and almost without realising it, he had pressed the button allowing Trip's words to appear on the screen.

*From: Tucker, Cmdr C Enterprise NX-01* *To: Reed, Lt M Starfleet HQ, San Francisco*

Malcolm, Sorry I haven't been in touch. I guess I was kind of mad because you left without telling me. But you know what I'm like by now. Hope you're okay and you're enjoying life back in San Fran. Been to see Ruby yet?

It was a brief allusion and hardly qualified as an apology, yet Malcolm smiled, his intimate knowledge of the man enabling him to fill in the gaps. He continued reading, soaking up the words.

I was reading the Star Fleet Technical Journal the other day and I saw your article on the effect of the warp field on targeting sensors...

The rest of the letter was filled with his own thoughts and theories, sparking off a whole new train of thought in Malcolm's mind. Happily, he settled at the screen, beginning to compose his response and tried not to read anything into the fact that Trip had not mentioned Meg.

That was the beginning of a correspondence that almost bordered on the ridiculous. They began by exchanging letters every few days, the interval between becoming shorter and shorter until it was highly unusual for Malcolm to see a day pass without hearing from Tucker at least once. He knew it was ridiculous, especially when Trip did mention Meg from time to time, but still, beyond all reason or sense, he was beginning to entertain the slightest hope that there really was a chance for him.

On Enterprise Meg Winston was aware something was going wrong. To begin with, she couldn't quite put her finger on it but gradually she accepted that her fiancé seemed to be spending less time with her. She began to tease him about the love affair he was carrying on with his engines before eventually asking him bluntly if there was someone else.

In the short term it had the desired effect as his horrified reaction included a return to earlier, happier days. But it didn't last and in despair she asked to speak to Captain Archer. He had received her courteously and she explained that she was asking his advice as Tucker's friend rather than as a commanding officer. He had heard her out, then advised her to talk to Trip. Winston was not stupid and realised he knew more than he was saying. Biting her lip, she headed back to the quarters she shared with Tucker.

Trip was there, working at the computer and he threw her an absent greeting. She sighed, remembering a day when her entrance would have generated a different response altogether.

"I need to talk to you, Trip," she began.

"Sure. In a minute. I'm just writing to Malcolm."

"Again?" she queried. "I thought you wrote to him yesterday?"

"Well yeah, I did, but I had this idea 'bout one of the projects he's workin' on..." his face was alive and his eyes were shining though his words tailed off as he finally turned and looked at her. Her expression surprised him. She looked stunned. "What's up?" he asked uneasily.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "I've been so stupid."

"What?" Now he was definitely wary.

"Malcolm Reed--that's what," she snapped.

"What are you talkin' about?"

"You lied to me!"

"I have never lied to you," he asserted, filled with righteous indignation. How could she think that? "How have I lied?" he demanded.

"You said there was no-one else."

"There isn't," he responded, bewildered.

"There is."

Tucker threw his hands in the air, making a sound of sheer exasperation. "Meg, will you tell me what the hell you're talkin' about," he insisted.

Very quietly she said, "I'm talking about the fact you are in love with Malcolm Reed." And now all the anger had leached from her voice, leaving sadness behind.

"I am not," he flushed. "I'm not in love with Malcolm," he reiterated at her disbelieving look. "He's a friend, that's all."

She stared at him.

"Meg," he stood and walked towards her, capturing her hands and leaning in to kiss her. And then it hit him. There was nothing. With a sinking feeling he released her and stepped back.

"You see," she said huskily. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Horrified, he stumbled back to sit on the edge of the bunk and put his head in his hands. Eventually he spoke. "Meg, I swear I didn't know. I would never--I do care about you, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Trip," her voice trembled but she did not cry, her pride coming to the rescue. "I'm just sorry you don't care enough." There was an awkward pause and she cleared her throat. "Would you mind leaving me alone while I get my stuff together?"

"I...sure...of course...Meg...I..."

"Goodbye, Trip," she said, and her air of finality chased him from the room.

Tucker's wandering footsteps brought him eventually to Archer's quarters. Sighing heavily, he pressed on the comm. and entered at the invitation. Without waiting to be asked he slumped into a seat and asked, "Did you know I'm in love with Malcolm?"

There was a pause before the response came. "Trip, I don't know whether to hit you or hug you."

Surprised, he looked up and catalogued that dichotomy in his friend's features, Archer clearly hovering between anger and relief.

With a groan he put his head in his hands.

Reed opened the email, thinking it would be like any other of the hundreds he had received in the past few months, to sit, stunned in front of the computer terminal when the words filtered into his mind.

From: Tucker, Cmdr C Enterprise NX-01 To: Reed, Lt Cmdr M Starfleet HQ, San Francisco

Malcolm, How do I start telling you I've made the biggest mistake of my life? Meg and me--we broke up yesterday. Things hadn't been great for a while but I didn't know why. It was Meg who finally got it. It's you, Malcolm. It's always been you but I never could admit it. I don't know how to start putting things right. I don't even know if I can. I'm pretty sure you cared about me once but I don't know if you still do. You haven't mentioned anyone in your letters so I'm kind of hoping there might be a chance for me. Swear to God, I don't know what I'm saying, whether any of this is making any kind of sense. I don't know much of anything right now. Except this. I miss you. I love you. And I'm sorry. Trip

It took him an hour before he could gather his thoughts together--or even stop himself shaking enough--to respond

From: Reed, Lt Cmdr M Starfleet HQ, San Francisco To: Tucker, Cmdr Enterprise NX-01

Trip, To say I was surprised to get your last letter was an understatement. I'm sorry you are so unhappy and confused. Tell me, Trip, what I can do to help? Malcolm

Then he waited.

From: Tucker, Cmdr C Enterprise NX-01 To: Reed, Lt Cmdr M Starfleet HQ, San Francisco

Come home

Every day for two weeks Tucker checked his mail, and every day his distress deepened as he became more and more certain that in this lack of communication he had his answer. There was no need for words when silence spoke such volumes.

Malcolm Reed had decided not to return to Enterprise.

EPILOGUE

"Hello, Commander."

He froze, for a moment too stunned, too shocked to say or do anything. Was he dreaming? Was it his imagination? Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath and forced himself to turn.

Malcolm Reed really was standing there, looking as if he had never left, as if he had never been away, except--except for the extra pip, gleaming dully black, the sign of his recent promotion, and a wary expression in his grey eyes; an indication that, despite the fact Tucker had actually asked him to come, he was still unsure of his welcome.

His breath left him in a gasp and in three giant strides he crossed the space between them, gathering his friend--his lover, he amended fiercely--into his arms, claiming the startled man's lips in a desperate, passion-filled kiss.

There was a surprised grunt from Reed and then he reacted, wrapping one arm around Tucker's waist and burying the other in the blond hair as he kissed him back for all he was worth. Both were blissfully unaware of the whoops of delight and laughter from the engineering crew, or the sudden cessation of that outpouring when Captain Archer stepped through the door, to be brought up short as he surveyed the scene before him.

There was a twinkle in his eye, which successfully masked the brief surge of envy, forcing it down and burying it under the pleasure of seeing both his friends reach this understanding. Eventually, theatrically, he coughed, taking no notice of the snorts of laughter from those working nearby.

"Gentlemen," he added, his tone mild but the word was spoken loudly enough to permeate the consciousness of both lovers.

Typically, Reed reacted first, breaking away to present a flushed face, his hair an unruly tangle from the effects of Tucker's fingers. "C...Ca...Captain," he stuttered, his expression a comic mix of dismay, desire and confusion, all compounded by a sparkling joy which lit the grey eyes.

"Welcome home, Malcolm," he said quietly, and they both understood he meant more than simply his return to Enterprise.

Tucker just smiled, shifting slightly so they were both facing Archer, and he curled his arm possessively around the new lieutenant-commander. His blue gaze met the captain's and in that direct, open regard, Archer saw knowledge.

There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. Malcolm had made his choice a long time ago and Archer was aware that whatever happened, nothing could ever have changed his mind.

Wolves mate for life

The observation surprised him, until he accepted his subconscious mind had supplied conscious with the image deliberately. Malcolm--wary, suspicious, sometimes fey--his pack was the crew of Enterprise and he had always done everything in his power to protect them all. Despite his own situation he was desperately glad to have Malcolm back on Enterprise. It was as if one of the critical parts of the whole had been missing and was now back in place. Already he felt the shift in atmosphere, as if the ship herself was welcoming him home. Ascot was a fine officer, no doubt, but Malcolm belonged to Enterprise, to them all.

"Why don't the two of you join us for dinner tonight," he suggested. "We can update Malcolm and he can tell us about some of the work he's been doing at R and D."

Reed suddenly seemed to remember protocol. "I'm sorry, sir, I should have reported to you first." He hesitated. "I just...I just..." he floundered to a halt under the sympathetic green gaze.

"Don't worry, Malcolm." Archer wanted to pull him into a hug but knew only one man would ever be welcomed offering that gesture and he settled for gripping Malcolm's shoulder briefly. "I'll see you both later. Nineteen-thirty hours. captain's mess." Shrewdly, he added: "Don't be late."

The two men watched him leave and then Tucker seemed to collect himself. "I'm still on duty, Malcolm."

"That's fine," he was reassured. "I want to go to the armoury, anyway."

"'Kay." Tucker paused for a moment and then pulled him gently back into the circle of his arms, burying his face in the dark hair and breathing in the unique scent that was Malcolm Reed. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" Reed asked as he returned the embrace.

"For forgivin' me. For comin' home."

Reed had no words for him, raising his face instead and capturing the man's mouth briefly. "Now get back to work, Commander," he ordered when he released him, trying to look stern though he knew he had failed when Tucker grinned widely at him.

"You, too, Commander," he stressed the rank, delighting in the flush that stained Malcolm's cheeks.

Reed turned to leave and then paused. "Don't make any plans for after dinner, Mr. Tucker," he ordered.

"Oh? Why's that, Malcolm?" Trip was pretty sure of the reason.

"I think we need to get...re-acquainted, don't you?" The silky, almost menacing tone was palliated by the outrageous wink. On that statement he took his leave, followed by the sound of Tucker's outright filthy chuckle.

Malcolm Reed walked towards his armoury and smiled.

He was home.

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