Demolition Lover's Lane

by jazzy2may

With time to spare for Valentines Day. on-list at one time. Slash Tucker/Reed. An R&R gone wrong. No like, no read.

1. Chapter 1

Fic: Demolition Lover's Lane Tu/R 11/11 The End

Fic: Star Trek Enterprise: Demolition, Lover's Lane

Author: Jazzy

Pairing: T/R

Rating: Mature/(PG-13)

Archive: Yes, please, (and all previous chapters too.) Warp 5 (or anywhere else is fine by me. Just let me know where it ends up.) ;D

Author's Webiste: When the captain disappears its Trip and Reed to the rescue - to a couples' spa! Warnings: SLASH, WIP, UnBeta'd, H/C, Non-con, Angst, Drama, Humor, Dark stuff, funny stuff, AU stuff. :D

Star Trek Enterprise: Demolition, Lover's Lane

Written by Jazzy

A Reed/Tucker Story

CHAPTER ONE

"He What?!" Cried the startled and quickly escalating to enraged Security Officer.

"The Cap'n disappeared Mal. He hooked up with this lady friend and before I knew it they were at a spa together and then… well…he… He uh, disappeared." Explained Commander Tucker weakly.

Lieutenant Reed's eyes flared cold fire. Ice blue went to frost periwinkle. "How could you lose the Captain?" he demanded, exasperated. "You're his third in command and dearest friend. How could you just, how could he just…" He spluttered then stopped took a calming breath and continued. "Did you get the local police involved? Have you searched the planet from top to bottom and round to the ends and back again? Have you even contacted the bridge to let T'Pol know what's happened?"

There was dead silence for a moment on the line as Trip blushed shame faced. His own temper beginning to rise.

"Mal, I'm not incompetent you know. You don't need to talk down to me like I'm a complete idiot. Yes, I've gotten the locals involved in the search. We've been looking for twenty-four hours straight. Which is why I am now calling you for help. I can't tell T'Pol I lost the Captain. It's too embarrassing. Just scan the planet and save your lectures for later. Alright?" It was more a statement and command rather than a request.

Malcolm scowled darkly. "Yes, Sir." He growled then snapped the com closed. Hayes and the rest of security watched him walk quickly out of his office in the armory, opening a new channel to the bridge. "Sub-Commander, it appears we will have need of the scanners."

T'Pol tilted her head at an angle and with a nod busily went to work at her computer station. "May I deduce the reason being that Commander Tucker or the Captain may be in trouble?"

"Yes, I believe that would be correct, Sub-Commander. The Captain is missing."

"Scan is in progress, estimated time to finish two hours thirty minutes and twenty seconds."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander."

"We will find the Captain, Lieutenant." She said with all logic and confidence to back her up.

Malcolm smiled grimly. "Yes, yes, we will."

A few hours later, Trip was again back on board Enterprise. He was looked sheepish and worried all at the same time.

"Have the scans located him or not?" He demanded, worried for his missing friend.

"Welcome back on board Commander." said Malcolm, calm cold Security officer in control. More Vulcan than human when Malcolm was like this.

Trip sighed. He had known he wouldn't exactly be in Malcolm's good graces but he had hoped cold formality would not be the thing Malcolm would use to chastise him with.

"So far, our scans show nothing. This has us all very concerned. You will have to tell us exactly what happened down their, Commander. And leave no detail out." insisted Reed.

In the Captain's conference room they gathered, Reed, Tucker, T'Pol, Hoshi, Hayes, and Mayweather. Tucker took a calming breathe and then exhaled and took a sip of his water.

"All right, we went down to the planet, we went to look first for information on the Xindi but after a while as you all are aware; the Captain decided perhaps a little rest and relaxation might recharge the vigor for the search and so we were relaxing and then John, the Captain; he met someone and they hit it off real swell and before long she had her hooks into him.

Then she and he went to this couples' counseling place; some retreat or other, you know, the touchy-feely new age, get-in-touch with your emotions and build a better, stronger, relationship kind of thing; you know what I mean?"

No one expected the can of worms that statement opened up for them all in regards to Malcolm Reed. It was a real eye-opener for them all.

Malcolm's eyes turned horrified. "No." he gasped. "Not one of those bloody places. They're a menace! They're brainwash machines." he hissed and shuttered. "I would never have believed other civilizations would have come up with such places."

"Oh come on." said Hoshi, "They're not that bad. My friend went to one of those places and she and her fiancé have benefited from it. They're more understanding and loving of one another and will be getting married any day now."

"Oh good for them." was Reed's acidic remark. "Those places are cults. They brain wash you, take advantage of you, and then they reprogram you into a sissy. I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those places" He said nose twitching into a wrinkle of extreme dislike and distain. "I'd rather be trussed up in nothing but my skivvies and forced to crawl over fire and hot coals, flayed alive for hours on end rather then wind up in one of those places. I tell you. Get in touch with my emotions, hah!" he scoffed.

"Sounds like you've visited one of those places before, eh?" asked Tucker rather nervously. Malcolm's eyes narrowed, he had caught the look in Tucker's eyes and the convulsive little swallow in his throat. The look of a guilty man.

But guilty of what?

What had the Commander concocted this time? What troubles was he about to drag Malcolm Reed into?

"Yes, I have, with an X of mine, Janelle or was it Janice? No, no, no, it was oh yes now I remember she was blonde and I liked her, it was Natalie; or was it Natasha? Oh bloody hell, well you know, yes I went to one of those things. The guy running the place was bloody out of his mind. Smell the flowers he said.

"I did, you know what happened?

"Allergy shock.

"I was allergic to the bloody flowers and the bloody candle scents. I was in Hell. I was almost done in by the experience and she off and left me in a sick bed and ran off with that crazy bugger.

"She said I wasn't open minded enough. She said I didn't care enough for the relationship. She said I was a selfish, cold fish, with a wall so thick no one and nothing, not even sunlight, could break through." he hissed outraged. "Oh yes, I have experience alright. They're all a bunch of whack jobs out to brain wash us with their namby-pamby, nancy-ninny, sissy, emotional displays. I'm a bloody Reed and bloody proud of it and I'm British on top of that, several generations of loyal navy men and women. Emotions, I've got them but I don't cry and whine like what they wanted about it. Those places are a menace."

Every eye was focused on Reed.

Reed blinked turned red in the cheeks then looked down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go on like that. It was truly a horrible experience. As I was saying before the unexpected diatribe and quite lost my subject; why do you ask, Commander? And something in your eyes tells me that its something I'm not going to like."

"Well, Malcolm, Its just they also have classes for uh…. well uh… friends. And I was thinking, since I lost John at that place that you know, you and I should go there, under cover and investigate the place. So I took the liberty of signing us up for a course. It translates into a week's stay. I signed us up under the classes entitled "Relationship Friendship: The building that crumbles or the foundation that's solid." "Anger Management: The fire that destroys or the fire that warms" and last but not least "Hurt: The knife with two edges and how to heal and let that wound go."

Reed blinked, gaped, blinked again. He was speechless.

Tucker then dropped the next part of the bomb as it were. "I thought these were courses for the friendship stuff but actually uh, well, uh, The director only had an opening for a couple… so uh through some uh misunderstandings and some uh… language barriers… well, uh , hey how does the name "Reed-Tucker" sound to you? Or we could call ourselves "Tucker-Reed" or uh… Malcolm, are you alright, that's not a good color for you."

Hoshi began to giggle, Hayes looked morbidly fascinated, and Mayweather had to bite down hard not to join Hoshi in some snickers and giggles of his own. T'Pol was the only one unmoved.

"Now, see here, Commander." Reed protested but couldn't quite come up with an argument. The Captain disappeared at the Spa so it was to the Spa they had to go and if it was the only way then it was the only way.

Discouraged Reed sighed. "Very well. I can see reason. But how are we to pass as a wedded couple in trouble?"

"Just be yourselves." suggested Mayweather.

Hayes gave them both a skeptical look and then nodded in agreement with Mayweather. "Yes, I can see it. You both squabble and act like an old married couple most of the time anyway. I don't see that it will be very hard to pull this off. Just polish your stories a little and be a little more… er uh… (how to put this delicately?) touchy-feely, I guess." He finished lamely.

Reed's eyes turned positively to ice. Tucker put a hand out and rested it on Reed's. "Well, Dar'lin." said the southerner with a particularly startling cozy drawl to his voice that almost made the butterflies take up life in Reed's stomach.

Ice cold eyes defrosted as they looked down at the hand on his hand and into the warm blue of a southern sky. "I think, the Major here, has a point." said Tucker with a winsome grin.

Reed rolled his eyes and quickly yanked his hand away from Tucker's. He was losing ground fast to unsettling, unexplored emotions, and he didn't like it. "I'm British." he argued stiffly.

"So?" enquired Tucker.

"Okay, you have a point, its not that I'm British it's that I am a Reed. We are not very … affectionate people."

"Well," grinned Tucker warmly, "Then we better practice, eh Dar'lin?"

Again with the endearment that made his ears grow warm, he fought the feeling hard. Reed's eyes narrowed but he fought his defensiveness and instead decided to go with humor. "All right, Honey-Bun." He smirked as Tucker's jaw dropped.

"You wouldn't." Protested Tucker. "That's a terrible endearment."

"All right, how about, Honey Bunny?"

Southern warm blue eyes turned fierce with distinct dislike.

"Snookums?"

Eyes narrowed with further irritation. If Tucker had been a cat Reed was sure that by now his ears would have lane flat on his head in pure dislike.

"Sweet'ems?"

A tilt of Tucker's head in consideration.

"Dearheart?"

Further consideration

"Lover?"

"Isn't that just a little too flagrant?" asked Tucker, cheeks finally blushing.

"Well what do you expect? Not even my Father ever called my Mother anything other then Mary at the best of times. Oh, wait, I do recall one time a special occasion or something. He called her Mary-Luv. How about I call you Charlie-luv? How does that sound that's a good endearment. Charles Darling sounds good too… hmmn have to consider some more words."

Trip let his head drop to the table. "I have no one but myself to blame for this." he muttered.

Malcolm smiled well smirked actually. He knew how to push buttons. That's what made him a good security officer and good at interrogation. Push enough and people crack. But really Trip deserved it. How were they supposed to carry this off? What was he thinking?

He supposed since it was the only way to find the Captain they would just have to manage somehow. Hoshi had a point though. They were supposed to be a couple of lovers or married folk on the outs in their marriage. Trip and he argued and fought all the time. It wouldn't be too hard, he supposed, pretending to be married to the man and having troubles in the marriage.

"I take left side." he suddenly said.

"Left side of what?" asked Trip puzzled.

"The bed." he replied smartly. "We're going to have to be sharing unless of course I kick you to the couch." The smirk just got worse.

Trip scowled. "You're really perverse ya know that? I think you're enjoying this way too much." he grumbled.

"Oh luv," said Malcolm getting into character. "You're such a kidder."

"Enjoy it while you can Dar'lin, because once this mission's over so is our marriage."

"Oh, how crushing," said Malcolm with dry humor, a hand thrown over his heart. "You cad you. What was it? My crisp bed corners or the dusting?"

"No, it was the organization of m'filing cabinet." Now Trip smiled. Biting back on his laughter.

"Ouch." laughed Malcolm. "Caught red-handed. All right, enough play. I'll see you at the launch bay once we have our recording devices set and our bags packed."

"Right, there's also a gift shop below we can shop there and pick up some more props and enough clothes for a month's stay."

"Wh-what?" Asked Reed, stunned a new, at this rate he was bound to get whiplash if Tucker had any more surprises in store for him. "A Month? What happened to the week? That's ridiculous. We should only be there as long as it takes to find the Captain. It should, hopefully, only take about a week at the outset, max."

"Mal, we're posing as a couple in marital trouble. We're signed up for the full package. Which means a month minimum." Explained Tucker.

"Oh bloody hell." He muttered darkly, "Kill me now." He sulked.

Trip shrugged. What could he do? It was a signed deal. A contract was a contract after all and the money had already been spent up front. A month was a long time but well worth it if it got their friendship back on track and if they found Johnny.

Hayes helped Reed prepare the surveillance equipment and implant the listening devices and microscopic cameras into a button on each shirt or item of clothing available. Once the bags were packed the security teams did a last bit of business and meeting.

"I leave this ship in your capable hands, Major." Said Reed formally and once more back in officer mode.

Major Hayes saluted and replied. "Yes sir, thank you sir. We'll keep a close eye on you guys down there."

"Yeah, but not too close I hope." Reed said, ears starting to burn a little. He didn't much care to be in the camera when it was recording. But he knew how important this mission was. If the captain could disappear then so could he or Mr. Tucker and a recording device could easily locate them or at least give enough information for the crew to locate either one of them if things went south.

It was so very disconcerting to have to have his personal life recorded on camera during the mean time. Recording the sessions with the cult people could help them locate the captain or at least figure out who the culprit was. He was uncomfortable with how close and personal everything would soon be. He didn't like the idea that his crew was about to witness some very intimate very personal stuff about himself and mister Tucker. Stuff he wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know least of all his best friend. Those kinds of feelings had no place on board a ship going to war.

He resented Mr Tucker and yet wanted to help him all at the same time. Tucker had pushed him away when he had offered him friendship and support and now this elaborate set-up was going to open up that particular vault all over again and maybe this time let Mr Tucker and the rest of the crew in to some deeply personal places inside of Reed that he didn't want anyone knowing about. Like a river his feelings for Mr Tucker ran deep, deeper than he liked to think about.

Malcolm was dressed in a nice sleek off duty outfit, black and navy, two of his favorite colors that let him hide in the shadows and out of the eye of enemies and civilians alike. Tucker of course was in one of his very loud Hawaiian shirts and white slacks, in other words an eye sore and an inducer of a migraine. Malcolm sighed and put on his shades maybe the dark lenses would protect him from the sight, but from the ache behind his eyes he figured it was too late.

"Did you have to wear that outfit?"

Tucker pouted. "It's my lucky shirt."

"If my memory serves those parrots didn't save you or me from a rather humiliating ordeal on Risa."

"No, but it did help us become better friends." Tucker replied with his usual open grin.

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

Hoshi grinned. "You guys are perfect, just keep that up and no one will suspect what you're really up to."

Both men glowered at her. Huffy, they both then with a sniff walked onto the platform and out of sight, disappearing into the shuttle pod. Everyone wished them good luck then set about making themselves useful on board enterprise surveying the happenings of the world below them.

Demolition: Lover's Lane CHAPTER TWO

Malcolm didn't like the way the director glomped onto him and from Trip's glare he didn't appreciate the man's mauling of his friend any better than Malcolm liked being mauled.

"You're so closed-off and tense." Said the Director, his hands rubbing Malcolm's forearm in a very uncomfortable, very intimate, way.

Sympathy dripped from his words. But Malcolm didn't feel like he was being sympathized with. He felt like he was being sized up for something distasteful. He tried to yank his arm out from under the director's touch but like an octopus the director held on.

"I don't like to be touched." Reed interrupted rudely. All of his instincts were warning him to get away from the director.

The director didn't bother acknowledging that he had spoken.

"We should get you into the crystal baths immediately and get your auras harmonized. Maybe a little jaunt through the steam caves and then off to a restorative bit of bed rest to get that tension out of your body. Such tension can turn to a toxic level making your physical and emotional health at risk. My guess is you're the worry wart out of the two of you, am I right?"

The director oozed schmooze and tried to make a joke with Malcolm that made Malcolm want to leave the Spa and the director and their mission far behind him. Malcolm didn't know what it was exactly about the man that was getting on his nerves so quickly. He'd dealt with worse propositions in his bar hopping days back when he was a youth.

When the director turned his attentions back to Tucker Malcolm felt a sense of relief that was short lived as the man's hand found another part of his arm to hold on to. He couldn't get a word in to say, "Unhand me, now."

"Ah Charles, you seem quite at ease, your aura's fairly clean but I see some toxic build up. A death in the family perhaps? Poor dear, that kind of pain isn't good to hold on to. We even turn that kind of pain onto others. Poor Malcolm what he must have been feeling every time you turned that pain onto him?

"You will learn here to let that go as well as to build an even stronger, more compassionate, more supportive relationship with your spouse."

Tucker was startled and felt a trickle of unease crawl up his spine. What had that remark been about? Turned on to Malcolm? Had the Director been insinuating that he, Trip Tucker, had been abusing Malcolm? Or had it been something more like a general: you've been in pain and it hurts your friends to see you in this way, kind of statement? Yet he got the feeling the director didn't like him much and liked Malcolm just a little too much.

He quickly threw an arm around Malcolm's waist and gave Malcolm a quick kiss on the temple. "You're right. I've been neglectful of Mal lately, too wrapped up into my own pain. I didn't know how much I was hurting my Darl'n until just recently. That's when we decided to take up one of your courses here." He turned his attentions back onto Malcolm asking. "Right Darl'n?"

Malcolm squirmed as the stranger kept rubbing his hands all over him, he was finally able to get out of the tentacle like reach by melting into Trip's side and latch on to his friend like a life support buoy. Trip's arm around his waist and possessive glare also helped deflect the director's attentive hands.

"Yes, quite right Charles my love." he replied still a little unnerved by the director and grateful for any relief Trip was giving him. "We're here to work out our problems and to make our relationship strong again."

He didn't know what had possessed him to use that terminology but he knew it was something of a point he was making to the director. "I'm in love. I'm with Charles and we plan to be together for the long haul." He'd seen women use this with their rivals. They would put a hand on their husband or boyfriend's arm and use possessive terms like: "mine" and "we" and "our" showing a strong front to the potential and steering the predator female away from their man.

Hoshi blinked at her screen as did Hayes. Malcolm Reed was acting odd. Hoshi never thought she'd see the day Malcolm Reed latched on to another person, let alone his friend and sometimes conflict inducing yelling match pal, in a way that could be clearly read as fear.

Malcolm Reed was afraid of the man in front of them, not because the man was particularly scary but because the man was trying his damned hardest to touch Malcolm Reed. Reed was very unsettled by it and unsettled by the alien's unceasing attentions. As a linguist body language was one of her languages and she could read the alien's intent or rather discern one of two meanings for his body's language. One could read perhaps an intent for intimacy which Malcolm Reed was fending off. Or it could be read as something other then that, dominance?

Even Tucker was clearly reading the signs and trying to protect his friend from the amorous attentions.

She would have laughed if it hadn't been for Reed's fear. She had seen him cautious but never afraid. He hadn't been afraid when those weird half machine half men had tried to assimilate the crew. He hadn't been afraid when they were about to die on that Klingon vessel when he had the flu. Fear was alien to Reed or so she had always believed but now she wondered.

LATER: Next Day

Malcolm didn't know how the man had talked him into this. He was half unclothed and about to get a massage. Most of what the man was saying went in one ear and out the other but the minute the man's hands were on his skin Malcolm knew he couldn't go through with it.

He kept feeling some sort of crawley sensation, pin pricks running up and down his arms, every time the man touched him. Sensations of trapped and invasion kept popping up. He had never been particularly claustrophobic but every time he was in the same space as this guy he felt it, badly.

"This will relax you and break down some of those barriers you have about you." said Trey'van in that soothing tone that just irritated Malcolm all the more. It felt like the man was talking down to him rather then talking to him as one man to another.

Trey'van blinked as he watched Malcolm scurry very quickly into his clothes and add another layer in the form of a blanket. His eyes were narrowed and suspicious; the barriers were up and powered at one hundred and fifty percent.

"I'd prefer it if it were my Charles giving me such an intimate procedure." insisted Malcolm, stubbornly. Burrowing deeper into the blanket. He wished he'd had more clothes to wear.

Trey'van calmly folded one of the towels and sat in a chair across from Malcolm. He gave Malcolm a look that could almost be called compassionate but something in it rang false with Malcolm, or perhaps it was just the difference in facial structure.

"I understand that you have some reservations as well as some trust issues, my dear Malcolm. May I call you Malcolm?"

"No," Malcolm snapped cattily. "My name is Mr. Tucker-Reed to you, and I would appreciate it if you remembered that."

Trey'van's hand was on his arm, a gentle squeeze supposedly the alien was trying to comfort him but Malcolm flinched away from his touch. No matter how nice the voice seemed or the body language there was just something about Trey'van that set off alarms with Malcolm. Trey'van's manner seemed caring yet at the same time patronizing. For a man who was supposed to be good at his job and help couples in trouble he didn't seem to listen very well. He seemed to have selective hearing.

As he spent more and more time in Trey'van's company Malcolm suspected Trey'van of being a man who would do something for your own good without consulting you first.

He managed to slip his arm free from Trey'van's grasp and requested. "Please don't touch me." He said it firm with little hope that Trey'van would do as he requested.

The alien sighed. "I understand that you do not trust easily. I hear what you are saying Mr. Tucker-Reed. What terrible things you must have endured and survived to be so… so… hurt.

Trey'van's face wasn't easy to read but Malcolm suspected Trey'van had put on his sympathy face to try and sooth Malcolm's unease. Malcolm didn't buy it.

"You are a man with a wound," insisted Trey'van clucking, "A wound that I can see bleeding, its bleeding you dry and slowly killing you. I can help you to heal if you only trust me. No one here is out to harm you in any way. We only want to help you and your spouse to heal."

Malcolm firmly stated, implacable. "I'm not getting undressed."

"Please Mr. Tucker-Reed, this massage will help you. I can direct your inner energies, suffuse you in healing warmth while breaking down the evil toxins that have built up under your skin and is draining the good energies from you. This is the first step to your healing. By lowering your inhibitions and trusting me with your secret self, I can help you."

"No one sees me naked or my inner self except for my husband. I am a loyal, married man, in a deeply committed relationship with my mate and I am not getting undressed so that some man can put his hands on my skin." argued Malcolm mulishly. Eyes blazing. He would not be moved. He didn't like this spa and he didn't like Trey'van.

Somehow the octopus hands were back on his flesh, touching his hands, making him feel strange, like something was trying to push its way into his skin, under his skin and into his mind. He felt fuzzy, woozy, yet he held firm to his resolve. He fought the invasive thing yet he felt very unsettled, like he was falling, losing ground, drowning.

"I hear you. I hear your pain. I hear your suspicions. I hear you, Malcolm." The man's eyes locked onto Malcolm's and something in the gaze was like that of a cobra and its prey, deceptively lolling. Malcolm fought the weird feelings intruding into his mind and yet he lost track of time. When he came to he was unable to quite get his bearings. He didn't know what had happened. He felt on edge.

Malcolm growled, fighting the left over intrusive fuzzy feeling in his head. It was a fight of wills and Malcolm intended to win "Mr. Tucker-Reed, to you."

Trey'van stared into Malcolm's eyes, hands tightly folded over Malcolm's own. "I am going to let this session go, but we will try again tomorrow."

The dizziness was leaving Malcolm, the push thing was slowly ebbing away, but it still left Malcolm feeling edgy, feeling strange, he felt befuddled and almost, he dared almost say, violated.

"Remember Malcolm, this is the first step in the process of your healing. I want to help you, if you let me." With his peace spoken Trey'van let go of Malcolm's hands and did his weird version of an intricate bow, of hands weaving about and head lowered to chest while backing out of the room.

Anxiety led to Malcolm being on the defensive. Malcolm glared then scrambled out of the massage room and headed directly to his and Trip's bedroom. He didn't like feeling this way. This place wasn't right. That Director and his stooges weren't right. There was just something not "right" about this place and if he could find the words to describe what it was that was so wrong with it all he'd have told Trip and found a better way of convincing him to let the mission go, let the locals find the captain and let the two of them get quickly out of dodge.

Demolition: Lover's Lane CHAPTER THREE

Hoshi was concerned as she watched Malcolm on screen, looking terribly affronted and quickly packing his clothes. Tucker came into the room looking thoroughly refreshed and massaged. Malcolm leveled a laser-like glare on his friend. Trip noticing what Malcolm was in the process of packing gaped.

"Malcolm, what the heck are you doing?"

"Packing." one word snapped out.

"Yeah, I can see that. But why?"

"Because I am not a hedonist." He hissed. "And I don't care to get naked and have some tosser put his filthy hands all over me; unlike some I could mention." another pointed glare at Tucker who began to sputter with indignation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Demanded Trip.

"You know exactly what it means." said Reed, delivering the perfect verbal cut.

Trip sputtered again, his mind froze. He tried to argue the point. It wasn't as if he'd done anything sexual with anyone. He didn't know where any of this was coming from. It almost sounded like Malcolm was jealous and accusing him of cheating on him. He'd done no such thing. He'd been a complete gentleman. He didn't know why his friend would accuse him of such a thing.

Sure he'd had the massage and sure he'd allowed them to cater to his every whim, beverages, sand baths, exquisite food to make even Chef cry in his French sauces. The steam caves and crystal baths had also been a real treat. Malcolm was missing out because of his negative attitude and whose fault was that anyway?

Surely not Trip's.

Despite the seriousness of the situation and her concern Hoshi laughed at the way the two were behaving it was almost a comedy scene between two married people on a TV screen. One jealous of the other and the way people were behaving towards him. The other one naïve and oblivious to the things going on right under his nose.

As they fought like two tom cats, each with their hair stiff and claws extended to draw blood. Trip finally calmed down enough to make a valid point and one that was guaranteed to make Reed see reason.

"Hey, what about the Captain? What about our mission?" Tucker demanded.

This stopped Reed dead in his tracks for a moment making him switch gears once more he then returned to packing their suitcase. As he explained "The captain will show up on his own. My job does not include my prostitution of my body. I'm getting the hell out of this place before that wanker tries to get me undressed again."

"Malcolm, don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

"No, no, I don't. I know these people Trip. This is all some kind of sham and I will have nothing more to do with it. He plays a good game, very convincing, says he hears me but he doesn't." Reed insisted as he folded and smoothed down one of Trip's shirts. "I don't like that man. His hands on my skin give me the creeps."

Reed was surprised to hear himself being so honest and upfront with his feelings. Actually finding words to express the true unsettling emotions he was feeling was an amazing and thrilling experience, quite like jumping off a cliff and hoping the landing wouldn't end up in death.

"You want to end the mission and leave the Captain to his own devices to survive because you're afraid of your virtue being spoilt?" asked the incredulous commander, yanking his shirt back from Malcolm's folding busy hands.

"Y-no!" Cried Malcolm indignant, defensive. Yanking the shirt back and refolding it with a critical frown. How did Trip expect his shirts to stay unwrinkled with the way he treated them?

"That's not why." explained Reed, taking a pair of boxers next into his hands and folding them into the luggage. He gave the boxers a frown as he saw little cartoons parading about in the image of hearts and betty-boop.

Good lord! Those were tacky. Did Trip not own a single un-tacky pair of clothes or under garments in his possessions? Maybe he could get away with tossing them out an air lock once they were back on Enterprise?

Trip seemed to read his mind as he yanked his boxers out of the suitcase and protectively tucked them under his folded arms. Giving Malcolm his best don't mess with my stuff glare.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow then shrugged, they were Trip's under garments he could do with them as he willed, who was he to judge. So they were tacky, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit cute. And they were Trip's after all so he really didn't have any rights to toss them out the nearest window or airlock.

"I know their tricks, Trip." Reed explained calmly, getting his emotions back under control. "I'm not falling for it again. They're tricky bastards who know what to say and what to do to make you trust them. And then as you sign away your life and all of your possessions to them you end up jumping off some cliff somewhere or worse yet; you happily chase after them going from one scam to the next, a devoted, brainwashed happy little toy."

"Malcolm, can we please get back to the point here. We need to do this, for the Captain and for the mission." Seeing that he was talking to a stone wall Trip exploded, exasperated. "And because, goddammit, I already spent the money on this retreat for us!"

Reed looked wounded for a minute then stubbornly went back to packing both their bags.

"Can't you please be reasonable Mal? Don't you want to build a better relationship between us? Don't you want to save the Captain?

Seeing he was still getting no where with Reed he entreated, desperately. "You don't have to and it's not expected of you, as you say, prostitute yourself to save the Captain, Malcolm. No one expects you to do anything you don't want to do. Wear your clothes if you want to. This place is supposed to help you lower your guard not jack it up to one trillion times the usual guardedness you display towards people and your feelings. Insist that you would feel more comfortable fully dressed. This place is about sensitivity Mal, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"You're not listening Commander."

"Trip." hissed Trip.

"Trip, you are not listening to me. That Trey'van guy is a creep. He wont listen to a word I say. And things get weird Trip. I've only had two sessions with the guy and I already feel worse. I don't think this place is going to help us. A guy like that only hears what he wants to hear." Reed insisted helplessly. In the end he knew the decision was Trip's, if he couldn't convince Trip; well then he'd do what had to be done for the mission, for Trip. Because Trip commanded him and he'd do anything for Trip.

Anything.

Trip's hands went to his shoulders and warm blue eyes gazed deeply into his own, eyes torn with compassion and understanding but also determination. Malcolm knew he had no choice. He was being foolish. He needed to get control of his out of control emotions.

"The Captain needs us to find him, Mal. You know that."

He was acting cowardly and he knew it. Malcolm sighed, head hung down in shame. He felt guilt riddled. How could he even think of abandoning the Captain and the mission? This was terribly unlike himself.

"Fine, fine, I'll … I'll do it."

"Thanks Mal, you won't regret it, I promise you."

"I already regret it." he muttered under his breath while refolding and rearranging their clothes back into the closet and shelves. He couldn't help feeling slightly betrayed as well.

He thought if he told Trip what he felt Trip would get it and agree with him and then they could leave this strange place. Trip seemed to understand to some degree but not completely. Trip didn't know what he was asking, the sacrifice he was demanding of him. How could Trip fully understand when not even Malcolm fully realized the extent of what was happening to him.

He went into the bathroom and tried to scrub the sensation of alien hands off of his skin. He tried to keep the sensation of Trip on him longer. Trip's strong grip, warm so warm.

Trip could make dinner tonight Malcolm felt too tired to care.

PART FOUR

Malcolm tried to avoid Trey'van and his many assistants throughout their stay in the community but the blasted alien always found him, always put his hands on him, always something weird pushing gently into his mind; words and visions, memories dancing far out of reach and sliding back into place, memories that were his own made on experiences he remembered and yet somehow not the same memories. They were not the right memories. Parallel memories, false memories planted in his head and yet they couldn't be, it was not possible.

Malcolm paced his rooms, decked out in a loose fitting silk pants and one of Trip's t-shirts. Malcolm felt confused. He needed the comfort of his husband's shirt since Trip was at one of those one on one counseling sessions with Trey'van. He shuttered and hugged his arms close to his chest. He hated those kinds of sessions. He forced the memories of his own sessions out.

Starting with breathing exercises and forcing his body to relax, he started his tai-chi then moved onto an hour of yoga then to contemplation. He looked at the small picture frame on the night stand next to their bed and saw clearly a picture of him and Trip happy, in some green field on some planet somewhere. The sky was purple, the day moon was blue. He remembered the mission yet he also remembered it being his and Trip's anniversary. He frowned this wasn't right. How could he have two memories?

In one set of memories he and Trip were a married couple and had been so for nearly ten years, meeting at the academy working together on the warp five project, family get-togethers, a beautiful marriage ceremony in which Captain Archer had presided over, a huge hu-bla between Admiral Reed and himself. Malcolm was cast out of the family for choosing to marry his male partner and choosing a career not of the Navy. That had been a very painful ordeal.

In the other memories, his truer memories, why they were truer he didn't know, just a feeling really, yet at the same time the memories didn't feel right, just like the other memories had felt true but not as true, they felt right and wrong, the same as his truer memories did. All of his memories felt both right and wrong.

Memories that showed Enterprise and his first meeting with Commander Tucker as something that occurs on his first day of duty. Their fights over the power grids. Their ordeal on Risa and in the jinxed shuttle pod. Memories of friendship not of marriage, wonderful happy memories that felt perfect but off somehow. He wanted to cry he was so confused and his head hurt.

Were they married or weren't they? Was Trip his husband or not? Were they just friends? Why was everything turning out to be so damned confusing?

Bloody migraines. He cursed finished up his meditations then lay down in the bed with a cloth over his eyes and a hypo-spray in his hands, migraine meds should kick in shortly and then he'd feel better soon.

He hoped.

Hoshi watched Malcolm in his and Trip's room. Watched him move from one routine into another. Watched him move with grace and powerful movements, slow than fast, moving from tai-chi to other forms of martial arts till finally settling into long stretches and poses that were identified as Yoga. His body was beautiful. But she could read in the language that it spoke that he was deeply troubled by something and afraid of it.

But what was it that he was worried and afraid of? Had he found some clue to the Captain's disappearance that he had yet to make a report on? Or was it something more personal, more private than that?

She knew the seminars were getting to both of her fellow officers equally. It seemed to be helping one of them more than the other, or possibly breaking Malcolm down was supposed to help him in the long run. Hoshi had her doubts.

Major Hayes frowned he too was concerned by Reed's progressively getting worse abstract behaviors. Sometimes it seemed Reed was losing his mind or turning into a flake, which Hayes knew for a fact that Reed wasn't if there was one man on board this ship that one could never call a flake it was Reed. The man ate and breathed procedures, routines, and control. His confidence wasn't something shaken lightly. Yet as more and more time passed with the two superior officers on the planet below at the Couples' Spa he could see there was something strange going on. Not just between the two officers but between Reed and the Director as well.

He hoped Reed would make a report soon and explain what was happening to him and the commander.

A day later

It was strange coming out of one of those blackouts he's been having lately. The droning of Trey'van so intimately into his ear. The weight of the man leaning against him. His skin crawled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood stiffly at attention as alarms came full on in his head.

"How he's hurt you. So much pain, so much pain. The universe is so full of pain. I just want to help you Malcolm, please let me help you." Trey'van murmured into his ear, fingers stroked Malcolm's face, his throat, stroking in gentle patterns that were meant to soothe but only agitated Malcolm more.

"First your Father, always you feel so much disappointment from him from in yourself. You're so empathetic, so strangely a tuned to others emotions and well being. You feel a heavy bit of responsibility for others on your shoulders. Do you not?

"Then your mate, he loses his sister, he shut you out, he abused your emotions, Malcolm. He shuts you out, pushes you away, and yet he demands so much of you and yet somehow even with him you feel as if you're a failure.

"When did his love for you turn to so much sour grapes?" asked Trey'van, sounding pitying. Malcolm shuttered and tried not to cry. He was being suffused in heavy emotions of pain and sadness, that couldn't possibly be his own and yet somehow he knew those emotions were his. Yes, he grieved for Trip's sister and for Trip but Trip had never abused him, never.

Alright so there had been that one huge fight and that other time…. His thoughts trailed off as images and scenes that had never happened came to him unbidden, whispering of things he rather wished he had left forgotten.

"When did it change? Did he ever love you at all? Really love you at all? Did any of them. I see so many women in your past and they have hurt you as well.

"You give your trust so rarely and they have to work very hard to get it from you but after they've gotten it, gotten your heart, your loyalty your trust what do they do with it? What have they all done with it? They used it against you and betrayed you. They used you and tossed you aside and now you're terrified your mate will do the same. I think you might be right.

"What loyalty has he ever shown you? Kaitama, Ay'len, and nameless others, even some of the female crew. They giver you looks of smug satisfaction. How many women has he slept with behind your back?

"They've had him to themselves, knowing full well that he was yours and he knew he was yours and still what did he do, my dear Malcolm? Your love and loyalty to him is remarkable but wasted.

"He makes demands on you and he expects you to be perfect for him doesn't he?"

Malcolm began to tremble it felt strange to have tears flowing down his cheeks. He was a Reed he knew better then to cry. Tears didn't get a body anywhere in life, tears were nothing.

Trip; Trip you bastard, how could you do such things to me? No, no this isn't right. Trip's not mine. This is an assignment. We're not really married. It's not real.

Yet he saw memories of the happiest day of his life when Charles Trip Tucker the Third had put his wedding band on his finger and pledged undying love and faithful commitment to him. Each vow broken over the years they'd been together. Promises and more promises all of them broken, their marriage was in shambles.

No. No this isn't right. He argued.

That's not me. He denied.

That's not Trip. He insisted.

That's not us!

He was shaking and he couldn't stop crying.

"Why live in denial?" demanded Trey'van jerking Malcolm more tightly into his arms. "Why stay married to a man who doesn't appreciate you?" Asked the snake.

Malcolm jerked out of his hold and shook his head over and over.

Why were there tears on his cheeks? He felt crowded. It was hard to breathe. He began to shake harder and Trey'van's arms were once more around him. Trey'van's mouth on his lips, hands moving down his body. Malcolm jerked out of his hold with more force than previously. He was disgusted, revolted by Trey'van presumptions. He was loyal. He was a married man, and he loved Trip with all of his heart and soul.

He Stumbled staggered away from the bushes and trees that had hidden them from the view of the complex. What insanity had overtaken him when he trusted Trey'van and followed the scum into the woods? Why did he feel so cold?

What time was it?

He looked down at his torn shirt and frowned. What happened to his clothes? Why was he so dirty?

How much time had passed this time? Why did he keep losing time? What was it that he was forgetting?

He fretted, deeply worried and unable to voice why he was so unsettled.

He was a security officer, a master at self defense; no one could hurt him unless he wanted them to.

Why couldn't he seem to protect himself from this bloody Alien? Those creepy hands and those eyes. Every time I look into his eyes. I feel dizzy. I don't feel right. This doesn't feel right.

Why did he keep losing time? Why was it he never felt clean anymore?

Images crowded his mind which he tried to deny. It couldn't have happened that way. It couldn't. He could protect himself. He wouldn't let anyone do that to him unless he had wanted it.

"Trip." He sobbed, out of his depth and terrified. He didn't remember why they had come to the spa in the first place. He didn't want to lose Trip. He never wanted Trip to know what he had done. "Trip, Charles Charles, Trey'van tried to, he tried to" He fell down in the dirt and scraped his knee yet he stood up again and ran for their rooms. He needed to get away from Trey'van. Trey'van had tried to seduce or rape or something. His mind was in a panic, it was getting so hard to think, his brain didn't seem to be working right. He wasn't thinking clearly. It was totally unlike him.

Trey'van was in his mind, he knew it with a certainty yet he had never met a race like his, he couldn't prove his mind had been invaded and his memories arranged. "I belong to Charles. I'm loyal even if Charles isn't. I'll forgive him. I love him. I won't let him leave me. I'll strive for perfection, anything to keep him with me. Anything, oh god, oh god, oh god, don't let him leave me. He mustn't find out. He mustn't find out."

Stupid victim. Shut up! How do you plan to convince him that you're okay if you can't stop crying? He demanded of himself.

If Trey'van even had an inkling how badly his plans at stealing Malcolm away from Trip Tucker had blown up in his face; he didn't deign to acknowledge it to himself or to his goons. As far as he was concerned it was a matter of time before he would have Malcolm to himself. A Malcolm broken down and remodeled into the perfect mate for himself. Obedient unquestioning and loyal, Malcolm would be his. Under his control, under his power, and Malcolm would love him. He just needed to work a little harder on enforcing that objective. He would need to make sure they were skin to skin again. Delightful how lovely Malcolm's skin felt and his hair.

He was so beautiful.

Beautiful when he was writhing under him, iridescent in his passions.

Trey'van had never had an alien or a fellow M'thra'an who had felt quite like Malcolm did in his arms.

He felt that Malcolm was the right mate for him. The perfect one he'd been searching all of his life for. Easy to manipulate, easy to control, empathic and without a single barrier to keep him from being overrun by Trey'van's own needs and control.

Malcolm was so perfect and Tucker didn't deserve even to kiss the pads on Malcolm's feet. He scowled. He really didn't like Tucker. That man had a hold on the lovely Malcolm like none other that he'd seen before. Usually two people so different and ill suited for one another broke up by the end of the first week. Yet the two were constantly enthralled with one another and constantly devoted to each other. They were both fighting the signals Trey'van implanted in them. He suspected Tucker was a rare breed of the immune whereas Reed simply had a will that was astounding to brush up against. It was too bad no one had trained sweet Malcolm properly to use it to defend against mind-controllers such as himself. His lovely though was breaking and would in the end be his or be dead, whichever came first.

PART FIVE

Charles Trip Tucker the Third had never been so relaxed, not even neural pressure sessions with T'Pol had gotten him this far. Of course sleeping with a warm cuddling while he sleeps bunny like Malcolm seemed to be helping as well.

Of course the first time it had happened Trip had woken up pleasantly enough, a warm body draped across his own, arms wrapped nice and tight around him, a mouth on his neck lightly snoring in his ear, nose digging into his jaw and something hot and gyrating going on at his hip, at first it was okay, a little disturbing sure, but his brain wasn't exactly on red alert yet, he simply sighed and snuggled in closer to the body wrapped around him. Of course that was alarm time for the person on top of him, he heard a gasp, a struggle with the sheets, cold morning air and curses that came loudly in the quiet of the warm fuzzy moment of the minute before. He opened his eyes to see Malcolm had landed gracefully on his feet then as he stepped back he bumped into the night stand, bruising his hip and landing indignantly on the floor below, entangled in the stolen sheets. Carpet though the floor was, it still had a solid foundation and wasn't exactly as comfortable as landing on a pillow would have been and Reed's bum hurt. Reed was a guy and he was in his jammies but there was no hiding the morning sensations that all guys suffered through. Poor Malcolm was so embarrassed, he was red faced, well okay, pink cheeked and ears burning bright, dark hair fanned out over his eyes and he looked very sexy, if somewhat horrified by what he had done in his sleep and had been about to do to the person he'd been plastered to a moment ago.

"Mal, its perfectly alright. There's nothing to feel any shame for. You were asleep, your body had a natural reaction. There's nothing to get all horror filled over. Let the drama go and I'm going back to sleep now. Well as soon as you return those sheets to the bed that is." Trip had insisted, sleepily and firmly and pleasantly.

"That's what you say now but you wait until you're awake, I doubt very much you'd appreciate the fact that I almost embarrassed the two of us in a carnal act that you have never made intentions that you ever felt that way towards me or towards anyone else of the male variety."

"Malcolm, I'm too tired to care right now. Please just get back in bed. I'm freezing my nuts off here." he complained grumpily.

Malcolm scowled. "You and your comforts. I swear you're worse then my father. He's a selfish bastard to." he grumped threw the blankets back on Tucker then stormed into the bathroom.

Trip pretended to ignore the insults, wrapped himself in the warm blankets like a mummy in its sarcophagus then went back to sleep or rather he tried to go back to sleep he hadn't appreciated being compared to Malcolm's Father. That was a relationship with more than a few problems in it. The man didn't send his son even a single post card a year, not one letter for every six that Trip knew for a fact Malcolm mailed every year. Hoshi often waxed sad poetry over it, "His mother's better, but she is a bit of a flake, and her letters are odd ones. If I didn't know better I'd say she was writing in code to her son." Odd folks Malcolm had, very odd and very troubled. Which in some ways explained Malcolm's paranoia and unsocial behavior to no end.

Reed took a steaming hot bath and stayed for an hour before coming out and facing the day like a man. Trip of course had been cat napping.

"I think sharing the bed has been a mistake." said Malcolm uncomfortably.

Trip sighed gave his complete attention over to Malcolm then replied. "Malcolm, let it go. As far as we know this place could be bugged. We need to act as natural as possible. You're the security officer here, Mal, why am I the one giving the lecture here?" he'd asked his good mood quickly turning sour. Couldn't a man get some bed rest? He'd thought mulishly. But mostly he just wanted Malcolm to let the nonsense go.

"Trip, I'm not comfortable with this. You're right, we need to keep this as real as possible, yet I just … this morning was…."

"Malcolm, I told you to forget about it. It happens. Didn't anyone tell you about the birds and the bees and men's physical clock work?"

"How can you be so flippant?" hissed Malcolm cheeks flaring pink again.

Malcolm was a good roommate and yeah, a cuddly bed person. Warm and snuggly and warmer than T'Pol in a good mood on a good day. And he was damned cute when he blushed like that.

Why were he and T'Pol together again? Oh yeah, neural pressure sessions and some animal magnetism and human sentiment and the fact that Trip was a gentleman and could do commitment. He didn't sleep around when he was already sleeping with someone.

However when he stopped to think about it, Malcolm was more of the type of person his own parents would have welcomed into the family. Human, warm, compassionate, sure he had his hissy fits and his catty moods, and his cold Vulcan moods and, mercurial was what Malcolm was and he was damned sexy and the worst part of it all was that Malcolm seemed oblivious of his self worth and attractiveness. Malcolm was the epitome of the ocean, warm and soothing one minute cold and hard and stormy the next, a true son of Poseidon himself.

"I'm sorry Mal. I don't mean to be embarrassing you. I'm just saying, its no big deal. Besides, I like having my very own cuddle bunny." he teased outrageously.

Malcolm Reed took the pillow and beat him over the head with it until Trip retaliated with his own pillow and then they pillow fought until they were both a relaxed heap of gigglers.

Trip felt undeniably the tugs of his heart strings. He had to shut that off. There was a war going on. Both he and Malcolm could be dead inside of a year; if things go bad.

"Mal, are we good now?"

"Trip it really should be me asking that question, but yes, I think we're good. I'll try not do that again to you."

"No problem, Mal. Like I said it's a perfectly natural body reaction, nothing to get all bent out of shape over and I sure as hell aint going to hold it against ya. I like being on the right."

"Good." said Malcom, warm little smile on his face. "Because I like the left side."

"Good." agreed Trip, feeling his heart pinch painfully. Malcolm really was beautiful, especially when he smiled like that.

The memory was a good one. And Malcolm was very warm, very caring, even if he did have some irritating procedures, routines that he never seemed able to break himself of. Trip was more of a carefree individual who cared very little in what ways the bed was made or in what order the morning meal should proceed. Yet he liked the coziness of it. He liked seeing the domestic side of Malcolm. It was a real eye opener.

Malcolm was a very domestic kind of guy; even if he had to have things done in certain ways. Very obsessive compulsive disorder of him. But it could also be the years of training under his father and mother. A family run with military or rather naval precision. A lifetime of habits that he couldn't or wouldn't break not even to make a cozy situation even cozier.

Tucker sighed, slouched deeply into the little groove in the cave he was currently wedged into and let the steam bathe him in its warmth and fragrance. The fragrance was that of lavender fields, salt oceans, and rosewood. A strong smell that was sweet yet not sickly so.

Trip liked to think of himself as self-reliant, as an adult who can take care of himself, someone who can stand on his own two feet and look after himself. He didn't like that he couldn't seem to get through his grief without so many helping hands. Especially hands he'd bitten in his pain and guilt filled days since his sister's death. Guilt that he hadn't been there to protect Lizzie, guilt that he couldn't gracefully accept the help of others, that he had made Malcolm pay for his pain on more times then he cared to count or even recall. That Trey'van weasel had been right about that now that he'd had some time to think on it.

He'd been real mean to Malcolm the last several months and all Malcolm ever had tried to do was help him. And what had Malcolm gotten for his friendly troubles and trying to help his engineer pal and superior officer? Nothing but pain and bickering and a yelling match that had reached over three decks. Nothing but hurt feelings for all of his troubles with Trip. Trip was crushed by the guilt he felt. He was determined to make things better now though.

Some of those group sessions were so intense that it seemed even Malcolm was feeling it. He knew that Malcolm had some family problems of his own and a suitcase or two of emotional baggage he'd never unloaded. Trip really believed that this place was starting to help the both of them. He especially liked the one class; Relationship Friendship: The Building that crumbles or the Foundation that's solid. As an engineer he was made for building things. Building relationships, building engines and other things of science that helped people in star fleet and on earth. He was a builder but he had to admit that he was flawed at nurturing the things he had built.

Prime example his friendship with Malcolm.

Those classes were having a good affect on both of them. They'd even broken down a wall last week and the both of them had actually shed a few tears about the matter. They'd been told it was the first step in a long process to healing. Malcolm crying tears was heart wrenching and very unsettling. He didn't like watching Malcolm cry. It made him hurt and feel inadequate and stupid because he didn't have the right words or know what to say to his friend to help him. Especially during that one session in Hurt: The Knife with Two Edges and How to Heal and let that Wound Go.

He'd known a little bit of Malcolm's past after that birthday party the captain had thrown and John's unease with Malcolm's parents' inability to tell them what things Malcolm liked to eat or do. And Malcolm's dad had been a real piece of work.

"I was always a disappointment to him." Malcolm admitted in the class. "I didn't turn out the way he wanted me to. My family pretty much turned their backs on me. All I have is the family I have made for myself and one member of that family is my Charles." Of course Malcolm had blushed and looked shocked at his own admittance of something so deeply personal and private to him. Trip couldn't have felt more proud to have been there to hear Malcolm and help Malcolm when he was given the opportunity to do so. There was an exercise in which they traded places and portrayed the other in a hurtful situation, thereby being in the other's foot steps helped them to understand what the other was feeling and had been feeling at the time of the blow out. He'd never realized just how cruel he'd been to Malcolm and how much Malcolm was still hurting underneath all of his professionalism and stoicism.

He knew they would come out of these sessions a stronger more supportive friendship. Of course being forced to literally kiss and make up was one hell of an interesting moment. Both of them had shuffled their feet and coughed and did anything and everything but make the first move to kiss the other. Finally Malcolm had stiffened his backbone and smiled a strange sort of communicative smile that seemed to say "Come on, we're adults and we're supposed to be in a loving relationship, let's do this thing and do it right so we can move on and find the Captain."

So they had kissed and in front of everyone. Malcolm sure could kiss. He'd actually felt his knees melt from under him, if not for Malcolm's strong arms supporting him, though shaking those arms might have been, he knew he would have fallen in a heap on the floor embarrassing the both of them in front of their captivated group audience.

Duty it might have been but something in that kiss had felt entirely too real for comfort. It wasn't that he didn't like or even love Malcolm god knows once a person got past the cold exterior Malcolm was worth knowing, worth being friends with, maybe even more then being friends with, but they had a mission. Earth was at War with the Xindi there was good chance that none of them were going to come back from their first and last confrontation with the Alien race whose agenda was to genocide the Milky way population.

He didn't want to fall in love with Malcolm only to lose him on the battlefield. Or have Malcolm fall in love with him and lose him in the battlefield. He knew Malcolm wouldn't be able to handle the loss. Malcolm was amazingly vulnerable underneath the façade of self-confidence and duty he gave off. Trip never wanted to see Malcolm heart broken or grieving for a lost love.

Hearing Malcolm talk about his family. Hearing his voice waver and seeing in his eyes the tears he was trying not to shed for all the hurt his family had caused him over the years; it did something to Trip's stomach. It made him want to gather up his friend into his arms and hold on to him, give him comfort. It was what Malcolm had wanted to do for him when Malcolm had heard about his loss, about Lizzie's death and Trip had simply pushed him away with cold fury and words aimed to hurt his friend.

He knew what buttons to push to make Malcolm back off. After being trapped more then a few times and having enforced sleepovers during those missions where they had been trapped together under some pretty embarrassing and under some pretty astonishing circumstances he knew exactly what to do to make Malcolm leave him alone.

So Malcolm had left him alone. Malcolm had crept off somewhere to lick his wounds and bury himself in his armory and in his weird fixation that Hayes was trying to usurp and undermine his position as Chief of Security. That Hayes was gunning for his job.

Trip sighed again as the steam caves helped him to relax. He hoped Malcolm was finding clues to Captain Archer's whereabouts. Because as hard as Trip searched he couldn't find anything, not a single clue as to his best friend's whereabouts. He worried about Archer yet he found more and more that his mind was troubled over Malcolm. He wasn't blind he knew what these sessions were doing to Malcolm.

He seemed more of an emotional wreck lately then he'd ever known Malcolm to ever be in over the course of their association with one another. He knew Malcolm was unsettled by the Spa and that Trey'van person was part to blame but the other part Trip was sure of was that while having to endure the classes Malcolm was being forced to come to terms with his own personal baggage; something which the Lieutenant wasn't used to.

Emotions were volatile things and it seemed that like a Vulcan, Malcolm had a hard time dealing with his emotions, even acknowledging the ones that were right there for anyone to see.

How had Malcolm survived so many years in pain? In rejection and dejection? It was obvious that Malcolm had given up hope a long time ago on making things better between himself and his folks.

Trip was himself a little unsettled by some of what he saw in Malcolm's eyes of late. Malcolm didn't seem like himself lately. Trip just hoped Malcolm would recover and get back to normal soon. He also hoped that in some small part that this Spa was helping his friend as it was helping him.

Yet there was something unsettling about the situation that was growing between Malcolm and Trey'van, something Trip couldn't quite put his finger on. Something that made him feel uneasy. Like a sixth sense was tingling somewhere inside of him warning him that darker things were coming. Things he wasn't sure he was ready to face, let alone things he might have to fight.

He wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with anything huge right now. The more he thought on it the more his feet itched to run. Yet he wasn't a coward, alright so Malcolm had accused him one time of being so and maybe some small little boy part inside of him was rather cowardly but he was ready and able to face danger if he needed to and especially if it meant saving his friends and family.

Emotionally equipped or not if Malcolm had need of his help he'd help him. He just hoped Malcolm would talk to him soon about it. Before his bravery ran out. Seeing Malcolm falling apart like he was it didn't feel right to Trip. Something was going on and he wasn't sure if he knew how to fix it make it right again.

TBC