Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.

Notes: A trio of drabbles, focusing on Hoshi, Malcolm and Trip during their final moments on the Enterprise bridge in "Twilight". Yeah, it's kinda tragic, but this idea wouldn't let go, and I wrote this in one stretch.

Warning: Major character deaths ahead.

Pairings: R/S and TnT (implied)

Rating: T

Lieutenant Commander Hoshi Sato

"Hull breaches on B Deck...C Deck..."

My heart jumps to my throat and stays there. I can't report the damage fast enough; about a third of the ship's graphic on my console is a bloody red, and there's nothing I can do...

I look over at Captain Tucker. Trip. He's still standing by the helmsman, his expression grim as the Xindi's shots hit home. When was the last time I heard him laugh? Saw him smile? I can't remember. The weight of command has made Trip a hard man, not by choice, but by necessity. I remember the brief joy in his eyes when Jon Archer, T'Pol and Phlox stepped on board. His friend had come back, just for a little while. But like a dark curtain, I saw the anguish, the resignation that he would never say aloud.

Only the shell of Jon Archer had returned. The man, who had been his friend, our friend, our commanding officer, had died twelve years ago. For the past nine, Trip has taken up the mantle that Jon left behind, since T'Pol couldn't. Fleetingly, briefly, I wonder again: Did Trip resent T'Pol for ramming the ship, for resigning her commission, for living on the planet with Jon? If he did...if he does...he hides it well. He's gotten quite skilled at hiding his emotions. A different man from the Chief Engineer of so long ago.

Trip meets my gaze and the tiniest quirk of his lips lifts my heart. Yes, there's still a glimmer of the fun-loving Trip, who had played the harmonica and had eaten Chef's pecan pie. He's still in there. I remember him; he hasn't completely disappeared.

Again, the deck pitches under our feet. My eyes snap back to the readouts...more hull breaches, more decks open to space. Engineering is still intact, as well on Sickbay, and the Armory, on E Deck...

I sneak a glance at Malcolm. Commander—no, Captain Reed now. I always joke that the goatee would make him look more like a starship captain. Malcolm only smiles, but I've noticed he never contradicts me. He's asked me to go with him, to Intrepid, when he replaces Captain Ramirez. You know, I can't exactly refuse a request from a senior officer, especially when said senior officer is also your husband.

The Bridge rocks again. Malcolm looks over at Trip, and reports, with just a hint of concern, "Our forward shield's collapsing!" He meets my gaze, briefly. I see the anger, the fury in his eyes, but it's for the Xindi. I see the frustration at not being able to protect the ship from this attack. At being able to protect me. I'm fully aware that if the Bridge had had some sort of escape pod, he would grab me from my post, stuff me into the pod, and jettison me towards the planet without hesitation.

Of course, I'd be cursing him in every language I knew, if he did something like that.

And in that second, stretched into heartbeats, I see all his love, his regret. If the Xindi hadn't destroyed our world, would our future be different?

He mouths, I'm sorry, luv.

I smile, as I feel the tears stinging my eyes, It's all right, Malcolm. It's okay. I understand.

We're on opposite sides of the Bridge, too far away from each other, but I know he'll always be there for me.

A shrill alarm erupts from Malcolm's board, and his next words are tinged with strident panic, "They're targeting the Bridge!" Without the new shields, we were going to die.

Trip glances down at the helmsman, still determined to the end. "Hard to port—" Maybe, if we were fast enough, we might be able to avoid it—

Too late.

My eyes never leave Malcolm's. I stretch my hand out to him, and in seconds, the bulkhead next to me crumples and collapses like tissue paper, and I hear a roaring wind as the air is sucked out into space. The ceiling of the Bridge is sliced off, and I hang on to my chair as long as I can, but it's so cold and my vision's starting to blur...

And impossibly, I feel a hand close upon mine. And in that last second, I realize that somehow, through some kind of superhuman effort, Malcolm's defied gravity and space shear and managed to reach my side. He holds me close as we finally surrender to free fall. It's cold in space, and my thoughts are dissolving like mist, but before my eyes close for the final time, I imagine his voice in my ear, saying,

"I love you. Never forget that."

"I won't, Malcolm, I prom—"