-Using shoulder as a pillow-
The Shuttlepod was hot and cramped. Archer was piloting them back while the rest of the crew held on to the walls, bracing for mild turbulence. Amidst the refugees they rescued there was no room for personal space.
Trip blinked and rubbed his eyes. He kept his arms tucked in awkwardly in the small compartment. Malcolm gave him a twitching smile. He had a slight twinkle in his eyes. Trip cocked an eyebrow.
It was fortunate that T'Pol had decided not to come down with the away team seeing how uncomfortable she was in tight spaces with various humanoids. None of the Enterprise crew was smelling their best either. Their uniforms were stained in various places, mainly along their backs and under their arms. They were all a bit grubby.
Malcolm jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Trip spotted a dark head resting against the back of Malcolm's shoulderblade. Travis had apparently made use of the tight space to find a human pillow. Trip quirked a small smile. The pilot was exhausted from helping out as evidenced from his current state and the fact that he was not presently piloting.
Malcolm did not seem to mind that he was being used as a living head rest. Trip would go so far as to say that he secretly enjoyed the camaraderie, even in close quarters like it was.
The Shuttlepod shook and strangers bumped into them. Trip braced himself a little more firmly. Malcolm grabbed on to a support strut with the opposite hand, keeping his back still. Travis slept on undisturbed.
-Rubbing circles into the back-
The room on Degra's ship was spartan, impersonal. It was like the quarters on Enterprise, save for the grungy brown walls instead of blue-grey. The lights were dim. Lieutenant Reed stepped into the room. He gaze was fixed on the mattress in the center of it and its occupant.
Malcolm walked over and quietly sat on the edge of the bed. He studied his friend. Hoshi's forehead was scarred in a spiderweb-like pattern and her skin had a sickly tint. Malcolm held the medicine Phlox had prepared for her in his palm. He toyed absently with the hypospray activation button.
"Hoshi?"
He waited to see if she should stir. She remained silent and motionless.
Malcolm carefully applied the hypospray to her neck, emptying the contents. Hoshi started.
Malcolm quickly withdrew his hand. "It's all right. You're safe."
Hoshi's dark gaze flicked up to him.
"Where am I?"
"We're on Degra's ship."
Hoshi sat up.
"The doctor said you should rest for the time being."
Hoshi's gaze roved over him and the room almost aimlessly as if she was unable to process her surroundings.
"What am I doing here?"
Malcolm's mouth twisted. "The Captain wanted to keep you with us. I'm supposed to look after you."
Hoshi's gaze flicked away dismissively, doubt already forming. Before she could cross examine the statement Malcolm interrupted her thoughts.
"Would you like some water?" He reached over held up the glass that had been on the bedside table. The liquid was a bit cloudy from the ship filtering process.
Hoshi shook her head. A deep frown started to show on her features.
"Rest, Hoshi. You need it."
Hoshi stared intently at the glass. Malcolm put it aside when she made no move to accept it. Admittedly he was at a loss and unwilling to break the silence. Hoshi was all huddled up on herself. She clutched the blankets around her uniform and her knees were raised in a defensive position.
Malcolm scooted slowly closer. He waited for her reaction. She stared off blankly as if hardly aware of his presence. Malcolm reached over and started to rub her back. Her stiff posture slumped the slightest bit. Emboldened by the response Malcolm started to rub her back in soothing circles. Hoshi gave a bitter sounding laugh.
"When I was done swearing at them in primate I switched to Klingon."
There was no need to ask what she was talking about.
A wry expression flickered across Hoshi's face at the memory of learning Klingon. She had picked up on the curse words first, much to everyone's surprise and eventual amusement. Even now it was not uncommon to hear whispered Klingon on the bridge whenever she was particularly frustrated.
After everything they had done to her they had been unable to take her language. She could hurt them with words even if she had nothing else. Malcolm's expression fell a little more as if sensing her bitter thoughts. He waited, casting around for something to say or do…
Hoshi seemed to make the decision for him. She patted his arm and started to work back the covers to settle down. Malcolm helped her when her hands shook. When she was laying horizontal again she exhaled and shut her eyes. Her fingers twitched. Her anger slipped back under the surface until she was lying in some semblance of peace. Malcolm sat with her until she fell asleep.
He did not know if his presence had any impact and or helped shoulder the burden. He simply stayed. Whether it was for Hoshi or for himself, he sat by her side and let the time slip by.
-Crawl into bed with-
Malcolm twitched awake. He lay in a sleeping bag atop the scorched decking of Enterprise. The air was chilly due to the recent life support malfunctions. The latest bombardment from the Reptilians had crippled them almost irreparably. All departments had been working around the clock on repairs until Malcolm had shooed off his crewmen to get some rest. To his surprise they had roped him into getting some shut eye as well.
The bunks that were set up in this quarter of the ship were prepared in a makeshift manner. Malcolm had joined the group on the floor and scooted his bag over by the doorway. This way he could keep an eye on who came in and went out. Trip would have probably called him paranoid if they had still been on speaking terms.
Something cold and wet brushed against his foot. Malcolm yanked his leg up, tensing while looking for the culprit at the foot of his bed. A small lump lay halfway under the covers. Malcolm could see brown-ish black fur and velvety ears.
"Porthos," Malcolm said tiredly.
In the back of his mind Malcolm realized that the dog had most likely crept out of Archer's room again. There had been damage to one of the bulkheads near to the Captain's quarters and no matter how Trip blocked it off Porthos always found a way to scamper out and wander this quarter of the ship's deck. Archer was probably out looking for his little dog, or perhaps the Captain was still asleep. Either way, Malcolm needed to return the Beagle to his master.
The Captain's dog rose to his feet and walked towards Malcolm's upper half, pausing to lick at his elbow. Malcolm grunted, patting the dog's head. He lay there in a sleepy haze. The Beagle flopped down on his side with him.
The dog was warm and his fur was exceptionally soft. Porthos made for well-behaved company much of the time. Malcolm could see why the Captain had taken a liking to the pup. The Tactical Officer drifted off before he could take a course of action in regards to Porthos. He was still exhausted and Porthos's quiet presence was acceptable, welcome even...
...Later that night the door to crew quarters slid open. No one stirred, not even a regularly alert security officer. There was a pause as if someone was pondering, considering. A soft voice called for Porthos and the little Beagle darted back through the open door. The soft skitter of Porthos's claws slowly faded down the corridor.
