Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no profit made.

This story has been been beta-read by VesperRegina, to whom I am - as always - deeply indebted for her time and invaluable help.

Warning. Whilst not graphic, this story deals with adult issues and features some violence. If stories of this nature offend you, please do not read it.

Author's Note: This story follows on from 'Moth to the Flame', though it is not, strictly speaking, a sequel to it.


Reed

"Is this chair taken, by any chance?"

Even after so many years and so many momentous recent developments, I keep my voice quiet and impersonal. There is nothing whatsoever in my demeanour as I slip into the vacant seat in the Mess Hall for lunch that would indicate to the keenest observer that I'm now sitting in the company of two other officers who make up the other component parts of a strictly unofficial ménage à trois aboard Enterprise.

To give them their due, I'd never guess it from their behaviour either, if I'd been an outside observer. From the outset I've insisted that our personal lives must be kept strictly separate from our professional ones; once I don my uniform or they theirs, then no hint of our personal relationship must be allowed to seep in. This is a practice in which I became adept in the service of Section 31, and it's completely natural to me by now – but I know that it's harder for them. This was especially true in the beginning, but they're definitely getting the hang of it now. There must be no speaking looks or stolen caresses, or anything else that does not belong in our professional roles. Even when we're unobserved the pretence must be maintained. To do anything else would be to undermine our ability to maintain it under pressure.

Hoshi sets down her cup of coffee and smiles at me. There's a small moustache of cream on her delectable upper lip, and I know that Trip too is wishing that one or both of us could lean forward and lick it off, but instead I politely offer a napkin.

"We'll be home in a couple of days," she says unnecessarily, after the cleaning-up operation is completed. "Have you sirs made any plans what you're going to do on shore leave?"

"Reckon I'll be goin' home to see my folks." Trip leans back in his chair. "Two weeks, with nothing to do but maybe a little fishin'… I think I could handle that. You plannin' on visitin' England, Malcolm? Or you got any other ideas?"

"I actually don't have any settled plans at all." I note that Hoshi's dessert spoon is pointing to the left, indicating she is interested in having company this evening. Trip's is turned upside down, indicating that he will be too busy; unfortunately, life on board a starship sometimes means that your supposedly 'free' time is not, in fact, your own at all, and as the heads of our respective departments this happens to both Trip and myself quite regularly. Fortunately, as far as I know (and there's plenty of time for that to change), I myself will be free this evening. Unobtrusively I move the salt cellar slightly, as though finding its juxtaposition to the pepper pot aesthetically displeasing.

Perhaps thirty seconds later, Hoshi picks up her cup and drinks from it; she doesn't set it down at once, however, but sips from it a second time.

The arrangements thereby having been made, I can relax and concentrate on the prospect of shore leave.

The idea of visiting England briefly has naturally occurred to me, but I recognise that my motives in visiting my family would be mixed. Maddie, naturally, would be delighted to see me. My parents? Well, Mother would be pleased, in her soft, crushed sort of way, but as for Father … maybe it would be interesting to see how the old man would react to the 'family failure' whose ship single-handedly saved Earth from destruction at the hands of the Xindi. Maybe finally there might be some word or even a look of recognition that the 'runt' was good for something after all, for all that he'd chosen a career in Starfleet rather than the Royal Navy.

There again, maybe not. As for wanting to return to the land of my birth, well, yes, I'm occasionally profoundly homesick for the changeful skies of home, but I suspect I'm still too likely to be recognised and hounded from the moment I set foot there. I've had vague thoughts of going skiing somewhere, perhaps in Austria, but I haven't bestirred myself to make any arrangements. I prefer to visit out-of-the-way places, where I'll be less likely to be plagued by well-wishers and journalists. At first, true, I'll admit I enjoyed the kudos of being regarded as 'a hero of the Expanse' (however bitterly ironic that title might have been), but it soon palled. Even the admiration and availability of women wasn't sufficient compensation for the utter lack of privacy, and by now all I want is anonymity in my chosen resort.

"How 'bout you, Hoshi?"

"I'll be flying back to Japan for a week or so. My jiichan – sorry, my grandfather – he hasn't been so well lately. I'd like to pay him a visit."

We both murmur the conventional words hoping her grandfather's health will improve.

"Still, I don't want to spend all my time over there," she adds, glancing from one to the other of us. "I've got a few days free after that, if anything interesting comes up."

Trip smiles. "Don't know about you, but I always tend to find the most interestin' things come up right when you're not expectin' them to."

I spread butter on my roll, sternly repressing a smile on my own account. The two of them are getting really good at this lark. Even if what's being proposed doesn't really fit into the range of subjects that it's appropriate to discuss in uniform.

"Got a good-sized place, my folks," the chief engineer goes on airily. "Just converted one of the barns into a livin' space, in case any of us feel like bringin' our families or a few friends with us for a visit."

"I'm sure they'll be really pleased to see you again. Enjoy the fishing… or whatever else you get up to." Hoshi finishes her coffee, demurely folds her napkin, and leaves the table.

"Just make sure no other members of the tribe have got their beady eyes on it first," I advise, swallowing a mouthful of soup. "Otherwise if you invite company, things could get rather crowded."

Trip chuckles. "I know you're the tactical officer around here, Malcolm, but that's just basic precautions. I'm real choosy about who I share my space with, I'll have you know."

"Judging by the characters you've ended up with since we set out, I strongly contest that statement." One, two…

Right on cue, my sparring partner inflates like an indignant bullfrog. "Ah'll have you know Ah was the perfect…"

I duck my head to the soup, grinning, and let the rest of Trip's protestations go in one ear and out the other.

I already know what I'm going to do with at least some of my shore leave.

All that remains to settle are the details.


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