For the FF.net people: If dark characters disturb you, you might want to turn back now.
Title: Whatever Means
Author: Jyorraku
Rating: PG
Category: Drama
Codes: Tu, R/S
Summary: The things that matter no longer do. Warning: dark fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
He watched as Malcolm exited the messhall with a plate in his hands. It was obvious where he was going. Sickbay held a certain fascination for the armory officer now, and it wasn't Phlox's eccentric medicinal methods.
Hoshi had been rescued from the clutches of the Xindi two days ago. Absence did make the heart grow fonder. Even Malcolm's caged affections had been freed by her return.
"Malcolm," he called out.
The British man turned.
"I need to talk to you...about Hoshi."
Wariness flickered in the man's blue eyes at the mention of her name. Still a private person on a ship of eighty some odd people.
"I know what's happening with you and her...but this might not be the time for you two to get closer."
The Lieutenant didn't respond, but his grip on the meal tray tightened with a tremble.
"When this is all over, expectations might be different...she might come to resent you. She's at her weakest right now, holding on to whoever's close."
He knew about Malcolm's family, about how expectations were never met and how resentment grew between the gulf of silence that existed between the Reeds. Using the right words, the sentences filled themselves.
So he met no resistance when he took the tray from him. "I'll take over. It might be best if you keep your distance for now." He nodded with friendly concern before leaving the other man to his tumultuous thoughts. Such thoughts were not his main concern.
* * *
Sickbay was thankfully empty, as he knew it would be.
"Hoshi?"
A small voice came from the slight figure on the biobed. "Malcolm?"
"No, Hoshi, it's me," he said, coming to sit in the chair Malcolm had set there next to her bed. "Do you remember anything you found out about the Xindi?" he asked, putting the food aside.
"I...can't seem to remember," she answered in a tired whisper.
His eyes tracked the room one last time before pulling out the hypospray. He surveyed her listless behavior and quickly emptied the contents of the hypo into her neck. If she felt the touch, she didn't show it.
"Try," he urged roughly, ignoring the sudden red bloom upon her skin.
Her chest started to heave as she labored for breath. Her broken body seemed to kick into motion, stumbling prematurely into action.
He leaned in close, grasping her face between his hands, serendipitously wiping away the moisture congregating at her temples. When her eyelids fluttered close, he shook her like a malfunctioning toy.
"Tell me. What do you remember?"
Finally, she focused her dark eyes on him and for the longest time, she did nothing but stare. Inexplicably, her lips curved into a crooked smile before she spoke.
"I will never remember anything, Trip."
*****