Disclaimer: I don't own them, nor am I making any money off this.

Each Other

The door to her quarters slid shut, and Hoshi did not bother to turn on the lights. Instead, she let herself fall, face-down, on her unmade bed.

She couldn't get the scene out of her head. It was all so unfair!

Malcolm looked down. "I'm still getting used to this. Enterprise is a lot different than what I'm accustomed to." He tried to look up, but his gaze avoided her eyes. "I'm just not ready for a relationship right now. Maybe in time, but I'm not ready now."

"Oh," she replied, feeling her heart sink. Neither of them spoke for a minute. Finally she whispered, "And now the awkward silence."

"Indeed."

She swallowed hard. "I guess I'll be going."

His voice interrupted her departure. "Hoshi?"

"Yes?"

"Are we going to be okay?"

She forced a smile and hoped it didn't look as pathetic as it felt. "Of course we are. Friends?"

"Friends," he replied.

In her dark quarters, face buried into her balled-up pillow, Hoshi reminded herself that she didn't want to be in anyone's shadow. If Malcolm wasn't ready for a relationship, she shouldn't want to be in one doomed to fail.

And yet she couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't ready, or merely scared. Because if he was scared, well, she was scared too. It was a frightening thought, to move a friendship and working relationship to a romantic relationship. She'd thought it worth the risk.

Suddenly she was struck by the realization that she hadn't cried. That seemed strange and unnatural. Did it mean something? Maybe it should, or maybe she was overanalyzing.

Without turning on the lights she got up and went over to her drawers. Lights weren't necessary to find what she was looking for. Her fingers found the smooth box and lifted the lid. She plucked out one neatly-wrapped cube, hesitated for a moment, and decided that the occasion warranted another.

After replacing the lid and closing the drawer, Hoshi retreated to her bed. She unwrapped the first cube and put it in her mouth. Emergency chocolate. It was smooth and somehow reassuring. Women had been finding solace in chocolate for generations, and that was slightly comforting. It meant that she wasn't the first person to go through this pain and confusion.

Why wasn't she crying? It perplexed her. Did it mean that she didn't feel for Malcolm as much as she'd thought? Had it not sunk in yet? Was she holding out hope that he would be ready soon?

The last question seemed obvious. Of course she wanted him to come to her door and say, "I can't let you get away." However, he had made it clear that she shouldn't expect that.

She wanted to curse the people who had given him so much to get over before he could be ready, wanted to scream, wanted to kiss Malcolm, wanted to cry.

Popping the second cube of chocolate in her mouth, she unzipped her uniform and shrugged it off. Leaving the regulation Starfleet tank top on, she slid into the flannel pajama bottoms she'd thrown on her bed that morning. The flannel was usually comforting, but it didn't help much this time.

She bit down on the chocolate and savored the unplanned chomp. Then she froze, letting the chocolate melt slowly as she tried to process the events of the evening, tried in vain to understand.

After several minutes, she hurled her pillow at the door and watched as it slid down the metal. "Dammit!" She crossed the room, picked up the pillow, looked at it, and beat it against the door several times. "Why?" Smack. "Why can't he be ready?" Smack. "Why him?" Smack. "Why can't I cry?" Smack. "Damn!" Smack. Smack. Smack.

Finally she let the pillow drop. She looked at it on the floor for a moment, and then she dropped to follow it.

"She's not answering, sir," replied Crewman Hastings, who had gamma shift at Communications.

Captain Archer sighed. This was unlike Hoshi, and he was beginning to worry. "Malcolm, why don't you go to her quarters?"

Malcolm had claimed to have never seen a deer caught in headlights. Nonetheless, he did a spectacular impression. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What?" Clearly, something was going on.

"Respectfully, sir, I don't think that's a good idea." Now the look on Malcolm's face begged Archer not to ask.

"Alright. T'Pol, you have the bridge."

She didn't answer the door, so he put in his override. Whoever decided to give captains an all-purpose override code had great foresight. The door slid open to reveal Hoshi, wearing her regulation tank top and purple pajama bottoms, curled up on the floor directly in front of her door, clutching her pillow and in a deep sleep.

When he saw the two shiny wrappers on the floor, he knew that something painful had happened, and he was willing to bet it had to do with Malcolm. The wrappers were from Hoshi's stash of emergency chocolate. She never ate that particular kind unless she needed comfort.

Unhappy about her pain but unable to do anything about it, he stepped outside and closed the door. He considered moving her to the bed, but that might just make her more uncomfortable when she woke up.

Back on the bridge, Malcolm had obtained T'Pol's permission to work in the armory, and Ensign Kostinopolous was manning Tactical. "Crewman," Archer said to Hastings upon his return, "have Ensign de Rochelle cover Ensign Sato's shift. Cataloging the dialects of Boenian can wait."

T'Pol vacated the command chair, and he sat down with a small sigh. "Ensign Sato has been working very hard. She's overtired, so I've given her the day off."

Later that day, he recorded in his personal log,"Add 'each other' to the list of things I can't protect my crew from."