Here is a short story set in Season 2. Spoilers for Minefield.
Grateful thanks to RoaringMice who was my beta reader.
As they emerged from the shuttlepod and climbed the ladder to the upper platform, Trip cast a glance towards Malcolm, a couple of steps ahead of him.
He couldn't shake from his mind the unusual image of his friend down on the planet on his haunches, one hand on his knee, the other barely touching the bluish grass, his gaze seemingly lost on the horizon. Malcolm was no daydreamer, and seeing him like that had struck him as… well, as 'wrong'.
To urge the away party back to the shuttlepod, Archer had called out 'Time!' much as a coach would to his team; but Reed had not stirred. Archer had walked up to him, and Trip had fully expected Malcolm to turn to the Captain as he approached. But the 'proximity sensors' of Enterprise's Security Officer, for once, had seemed to be offline.
"You planning to stay here, Lieutenant?" Archer had asked with gentle humour, and only then had Reed slowly picked himself up. He hadn't turned, though, but only distractedly answered 'No, Sir,' before finally joining his Captain on their way back to the pod.
Trip had watched them approach as he leaned against the side of the shuttle, his arms crossed on his chest. Climbing inside the vessel, Malcolm had briefly glanced his way, the usual indecipherable expression in his usual indecipherable eyes.
Shaking himself from his memories, Trip followed the rest of the away party into the decon chamber. As the blue lights came on, Hoshi and Archer were chuckling over some joke Mayweather had cracked, but Malcolm seemed barely aware of their presence. He stood to one side, in his own world, waiting for Phlox to give them the green light.
Trip approached him, trying to seem casual, and Malcolm looked up and held his gaze for a long moment. In the blue light of decon Malcolm's eyes were a brighter colour than usual; they also seemed to have greater depth, yet Trip could read nothing clear enough in them that would tell him what emotions stirred inside his friend. Trip opened his mouth to speak but saw Malcolm shoot a brief glance at the others, his brow knitted imperceptibly, and the engineer recognised the silent if unconscious warning in that simple gesture.
The door to the room slid open suddenly. "You are free to go," Phlox announced, and the cheerful chattering of Travis and Hoshi slowly died away as they turned their attention to the doctor.
"All except Mr. Reed. You may be developing an allergic reaction to something on the planet," Phlox said, addressing Malcolm. "I'd like to take a blood sample and run a few tests."
"Anything we should worry about, Doctor?" Archer immediately asked, ever the protective father figure.
"Ah, no, Captain," Phlox answered dismissively. "Just a precaution. It's always better to prevent than to cure," he stated with enthusiasm as he came into the room and took his sample of Malcolm's blood. "Lieutenant, I'd like you to – what is that wonderful human expression – stick around while I get my initial results" he told Reed with a big grin.
Trip had expected some sign of irritation from the lieutenant, but none came. Malcolm only answered in a flat voice, "In that case I'd rather wait here than in sickbay, Doctor, if you don't mind."
Archer turned to his Armoury Officer. "Sorry, Malcolm," he said, understanding in his voice.
"It's fine, Sir," Malcolm replied nodding slightly. "I'm sure it's nothing."
As the others were leaving, Trip called out, "Uh, Capt'n… I'll be along in a moment". He saw both Archer and Reed turn to him with questioning faces.
"I, uhm, still haven't found the time to discuss the phase cannons upgrades that Malcolm had proposed … now seems as good a time as any," Trip suggested.
Archer frowned. "Can't it wait, Trip?" he asked. "After all, if he's having problems with his allergies he may not be up to it."
Trip schooled his features in an expression of surprise. "Who, Malcolm? Not feeling like discussin' the phase cannons?"
"It's all right, Sir. I don't mind," Reed interjected, with a glance at Trip that said he knew the engineer's true reason for staying.
Archer studied his officers, and his frown smoothed out into a smile of sudden knowledge. "Well, then," he said. "See you later."
As soon as Archer had left, Malcolm went to sit on a bench, and Trip followed suit across from him. Now that the two of them were alone, the engineer found himself hesitant to speak. Maybe he would just say nothing and let Malcolm speak first. The waiting might be a long one but Trip was prepared to be patient.
"Aren't we going to discuss the cannon upgrades?" Malcolm eventually asked, with a dry smirk. He had grabbed the edge of the bench tightly with both hands.
"Ah – that would be… a bit difficult, without the specs," Trip answered, tongue-in-cheek.
Reed raised an eyebrow. "What are we going to discuss, then?" he enquired in his clipped accent.
"Is there somethin' we oughtta discuss?" Trip countered, looking at him straight in the eye.
Malcolm gave a breathy laugh that held no humour. "You are the one who wanted to stay: if there was nothing to discuss, why are you still here?" he asked.
"Look, Malcolm, we might as well stop dancin' around it. We both know why I'm here. You gonna tell me what's botherin' you?" Trip asked outright, forgetting his good intentions to be patient.
Malcolm lowered his gaze. That and the fact that he hadn't jumped to deny that something was wrong were enough to confirm Trip's suspicion. The engineer exhaled loudly.
"Malcolm?"
Malcolm cast him a glance; then pursed his lips and averted his gaze. "I…"
"You what?" Trip gently prodded.
"I… miss home," Malcolm eventually murmured, not looking at Trip.
Trip's eyebrows shot up. That the self-sufficient Lieutenant Malcolm Reed could miss home was the last thing he had expected. After all, the man avoided talking about home, seemingly at all costs.
Trip realised that he hadn't spoken in a while and he'd better say something, and quickly, before his protracted silence made Malcolm regret opening up to him.
"You miss home as in… miss your family?" he asked, finding his voice again and modulating it to hide his surprise and make the question sound casual. From what little he understood of the Reeds, they weren't particularly close.
Malcolm shifted on the bench and cleared his throat, but still wouldn't meet Trip's eyes. "Today, on that planet…"
His voice trailed off and Trip had another flash of Malcolm crouching and caressing the blue grass, seemingly lost to what was going on around him.
"Something about that place seemed so familiar," Malcolm continued, knitting his brow. "The rolling hills… the landscape looked so much like where I grew up and… quite unexpectedly…" he faltered.
"We've been on our mission for almost two years," Trip said when Malcolm failed to go on. "And you've been away from England for even more than that. It's no wonder you're feelin' a little homesick." He studied his friend. There was more to this than missing home, Trip felt sure about it. "What else is troublin' you?" he ventured, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
Malcolm's eyes flashed up to meet his. "You're beginning to know me a bit too well, Commander," he replied. There was insecurity in them, an expression which was hardly characteristic of the self-assured lieutenant.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Trip replied with a grin meant to hide his concern. "So, what else is on your mind?" he pressed.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow and then looked away. "When I saw those rolling hills, they were so much like home I… wondered if I would ever see it again," Malcolm admitted. He was now staring into Trip's eyes as if to draw strength from them.
Trip couldn't keep the puzzlement he felt from showing briefly on his face. Malcolm Reed, the fearless warrior, admitting that he was afraid of what the future may have in store… Although, considering recent events, there wasn't much to be surprised about.
Malcolm naturally read him like a book, for he immediately tensed up and in an instant his famous shields were fully raised. "Forget it," he said tersely, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll be fine."
"Malcolm," Trip said gently but firmly. "There's nothin' wrong with what you felt down on that planet. Even an Armoury Officer is entitled to experience a little anxiety once in a while."
Something flickered in Malcolm's eyes, but he turned away before Trip had a chance to see it well. After a moment the lieutenant mumbled, "I suppose you may be right."
Shields slowly coming down again - don't press him. Trip sat immobile, letting the silence stretch.
"Still, I don't know what came over me," Malcolm murmured as if to himself.
Trip rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kiddin'!" he exclaimed, immediately biting his lip and regretting his outburst; but – hell – Malcolm could be incredible sometimes. He forged ahead. "Malcolm, you were almost killed two weeks ago. You've been under a lot of stress," he said with conviction.
He saw his friend grimace at the memory of being pinned to the hull of Enterprise by the spike of a mine he had been trying to defuse. "I'm trained for that kind of situation," Malcolm replied defensively.
Trip leaned back and gave a disbelieving laugh. "Ah – I wasn't aware Starfleet drove spikes through their trainees' limbs before they made them defuse armed mines for practice! - That's a load of crap, and you know it. No one is trained for that kind of situation," he said without hesitation.
So he had hit the bull's eye. Despite all pretences, despite the camaraderie of their little stunt on that repair station, Malcolm had not put his trying experience behind him yet.
There was a long pause.
Malcolm looked up. "It's not what you're thinking," he said. "I'm not… I can't say I'm afraid of dying," he explained, his voice charged with emotion.
Trip stared at him in open disbelief.
"All right," Malcolm amended with just a hint of irritation. "That's not altogether true. But when I chose this profession I also accepted the fact that death would never be too far away," he added resolutely.
Malcolm seemed to be coming out of his shell on his own so Trip sat watching his friend in silence.
The Lieutenant drew a deep breath. "What happened two weeks ago has left something." He brought a fist to his heart. "Trouble is, I don't know what it is – if it is fear… or shame… or…" He stopped abruptly, as if he had said too much.
"Shame?" Trip's eyes went wide. He couldn't believe his ears. "What are you talkin' about? You risked your life to save this ship and her crew!" he blurted out, his face scrunched up in a grimace of incomprehension.
Malcolm looked away uncomfortably.
"Malcolm?"
"What do you know of what happened out there?" Malcolm asked quietly after a moment.
Trip frowned. "The mine could not be defused and the Capt'n didn't want to detach the section of hull platin' with you attached to it," he slowly replied, watching his friend closely.
"I tried to force his hand," Malcolm said tautly.
Trip narrowed his eyes. "What the hell does that mean?" he asked, still without understanding.
"I pulled out my oxygen tube, so he wouldn't have any qualms cutting me lose, and the ship could be saved," Malcolm said in one, quick breath.
Trip froze. "You mean you tried to take your own life?" he asked after a moment, drawing every word out slowly. The idea left him slightly dizzy.
Malcolm squirmed and pursed his lips. "It made no sense to risk the lives of the entire crew to save one person," he said. "Not to mention that if those Romulans had attacked I would have been dead anyway." He had the logic of a Vulcan but not the same conviction in his voice. A moment later he got to his feet and began pacing.
"What happened after you…?" Trip asked in a neutral voice, refraining to comment on what had just been revealed to him.
Malcolm stopped and turned to him. "Captain Archer realized what I had done before it was too late. Gave me some of his oxygen and… well, got bloody mad at me. You know the rest."
Trip took some time to ponder what Malcolm had told him. "I still don't see why you should feel ashamed," he said after a while, shaking his head. "You were ready to sacrifice your life to save us all. It took a helluva a lot of courage to do what you did."
Malcolm resumed pacing, looking inexplicably wounded. "I don't know…" he murmured.
"What don't you know?" Trip prompted, feeling his neck beginning to hurt as he followed his friend's movements in the narrow confines of the decon chamber.
Malcolm sighed. "If it was courage or…" He stopped in front of Trip.
"Or…?" Trip was totally lost.
"It almost felt as if I was… supposed to act a part."
Trip opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He scratched his forehead. This conversation was getting surreal. "Would you care to explain that to me?" he eventually asked. "'Cause either I'm dumb or I'm missin' somethin' here, but I just don't get it."
"Do you believe in destiny?" Malcolm asked thoughtfully.
"Destiny?" Trip repeated. "Like in those ancient myths where people are like puppets in the hands of… gods?" he asked. "No – I believe in making my own decisions, steerin' my own life," he said firmly.
Malcolm tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Destiny," he said enigmatically. "As in 'this is what was meant for me' – or, if you wish, 'this is what I was meant for'."
"What the hell are you…"
"My great-uncle died in a submarine accident…" Malcolm interrupted him. "It too had hit a mine and… his self-sacrifice saved the crew," he drew out painfully.
Trip fought to add two and two. "Are you tryin' to tell me you pulled your oxygen tube because you thought you were meant to emulate your great-uncle?" he asked slowly, not sure if he had understood what Malcolm was getting at.
Malcolm silently dropped to sit on the bench across from Trip and locked eyes with him.
"My great-uncle has always been a hero to me," he explained. "I've always looked up to him, because…" He caught himself, briefly averting his gaze. "Anyway… out there it suddenly dawned on me that my destiny…"
Trip saw Malcolm struggle for words, but kept quiet, waiting for him to find them.
"I think in my mind I had decided that I was to live up to my great-uncle's brave deed," he continued. "I… I began almost to look forward to dying and saving the ship," he confessed quietly.
Trip let out a deep breath. As he studied his friend's troubled eyes and taut body he tried to understand what was expected of him. He was no psychologist and he felt out of his depth, and also a bit scared of the possible implications of Malcolm's revelation.
"You're not sayin' you have a death wish, are you?" he eventually asked, past a lump in his throat. He tensed up, bracing for the answer.
A flash of puzzlement crossed Malcolm's eyes. He gave a lopsided smirk. "No, you needn't worry about that," he murmured. "I'm quite happy to be alive, I promise."
Trip heaved a sigh of relief. "Good," he said looking Malcolm straight in the eye. "Because it's not written in your job description that you are to kill yourself in the line of duty, ya know?"
Malcolm was silent, looking at his own feet, so Trip added, "Look, I think I know what happened: you were tired and scared and pumped full of painkillers, and you just couldn't think straight. But what you did, right or wrong, was because you wanted to save our hides; there is no shame in that."
"There is indeed. I shouldn't have lost hope so fast. I should have had more faith in my Captain," Malcolm said bitterly. "Bloody hell, I was even cross with the man, because in my mind he was preventing me from fulfilling my heroic destiny," he added with a snort.
Trip sighed. Would Malcolm ever stop finding faults in himself? He stretched out a leg and jolted the lieutenant playfully. "When Phlox and I came to meet you in the launchbay, you didn't look very mad at the Capt'n," he said with a smile.
Malcolm's own lips curved up slightly. "No," he replied. "At that point I wasn't. In fact I was quite grateful to him for what he had done."
"Well, now you know: the Capt'n's not gonna leave anyone behind if he can help it," Trip said.
There was another moment of silence. Then suddenly the door of the decon chamber opened and a grinning Doctor Phlox appeared on the other side.
"I'm happy to say that it was a false alarm, Lieutenant," he said, in his happy voice. "No allergic reaction this time. You are free to go."
Malcolm stood up, followed by Trip. "Thank you, Doctor," he said.
"You are welcome," was Phlox's warm reply.
As they walked along the corridor, Malcolm shot Trip a self-conscious glance and said, "Thank you for keeping me company."
"Any time," Trip replied with a grin. He knew there was more to be read between the words.
They got to a fork in the corridor where they were going to separate, and stopped.
Malcolm shifted nervously on his feet. "To answer your earlier question, I might miss home," he said quietly. "But I do feel my family is here."
"Hmm," Trip said, bringing a hand to his chin and making it look as if he were thinking hard. "You know what they say - 'home is where your heart is'," he eventually replied. "As far as I'm concerned your heart is right here with this crew, Malcolm. So don't ya worry, I don't think you're gonna be homesick for long," he concluded with a playful grin.
Malcolm gave him one of his rare full smiles. "Mess hall, nineteen-hundred hours, Commander?"
"See ya later, Lieutenant."
THE END
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