Charges dismissed!
He didn't hear any of the rest of it. He was too busy yanking frenziedly at the handcuffs, the handcuffs he shouldn't be wearing, because he was a free man, an innocent man!
He was shaking so hard he could hardly hold still long enough for the guard to unlock them. When at last the metal clicked open he started rubbing and rubbing at his wrist, trying to erase the very memory of the metal being there. In that moment he wasn't very far from licking at the reddened flesh as though the bracelet of angry marks were an open wound just above his paw.
There were happenings at the edge of his consciousness. His body rose to pay respect as the judge left the Bench, but only because everyone else's did; his brain had no attention to spare for anything but the wild relief of freedom. That accomplished, he sat down again because his legs wouldn't hold him up any more. He found himself pounding his fists against his thighs, and to his horror realised he wasn't far off tears; and tears being a thing altogether inappropriate for a Reed (at least, in such a public setting – later, he might well need the release), he bit his lip and blinked until the fit passed, at least for the time being.
Everyone else was smiling and shaking hands – except the Vulcans, of course, who were gathering up their things and looking sour, if not particularly surprised.
"Malcolm!" He almost jerked backwards as the captain put a hand on each of his shoulders and pulled him upright. "How are you feeling?"
"I – I'm not sure, sir," he stuttered. Primarily he wanted to lift his stiffened hands and knock away that friendly grip in one savage movement, for reasons so complex even he couldn't have listed them. After going so long with hardly any close human contact, he found it hard to deal with anyone inside his personal space and speaking to him directly.
"It'll take a while." Maybe something of his turmoil showed on his face, for the hands squeezed reassuringly and released him. "I take it you'll be going back to England for what's left of your shore leave?"
From somewhere he dredged up something that would do duty as a smile. "I'd imagine the repairs to Enterprise must be nearly finished by now, sir."
Archer nodded. "But consider yourself on compassionate leave for the next couple of weeks, Lieutenant. She'll need a shakedown cruise and some space trials, but that's nothing the tech crews can't handle. I want you fit and rested before you come back on board, and that's an order. If you need more time, take it. This has been rough on all of us."
There had been a time when he'd have spurned the offer of compassionate leave, but today wasn't it. He knew that he'd just about reached the end of his rope, and if he was to be the Tactical Officer the ship needed he had to patch himself up, and seriously this time. It was still hard to believe it was all over; he was churning inside with too many tightly held emotions, and he knew that sooner or later the reaction would come, and would need to be dealt with. In peace and privacy, with someone he could trust to deal with all the fallout and still love him. Crumpets on the hearthrug, with or without damson jam. And maybe this would be the time...
But he was glad, all the same, that he hadn't had to follow through on his resolve to stage a final spectacular exit if that was the only way to reveal the injustice of his sentence. For all that his captivity had thinned far too many of the bars behind which he'd kept his old life and his worse self safely caged, he hadn't truly wanted the innocent to die as they would have done. And though the prison guards had been brisk and efficient, none of them had been actively cruel to him, which they could have been. One or two of the less disciplined ones had even looked at him with the eyes of hero-worship, which in itself had been enough to cut him to the bone.
Still, the contact with the captain – uncomfortable as it had been – had woken him to the proper protocols that applied on such occasions. There were thanks to be offered, and he pushed his own chaotic feelings to the back of his mind and rendered them.
"I haven't been as co-operative or as grateful as I should have been, sir," he said quietly, shaking Hicks' hand. "But thank you. And please, pass on my gratitude to the rest of your team."
"I'll do that, Lieutenant." He smiled. "It's been an honor."
By this time the news had broken in the corridor outside. Phlox had bustled back in, beaming literally from ear to ear (a display that both the defence attorneys clearly found startling) and Trip was thumping both Malcolm and the captain on the back, his tired face alight; and Holly was there in the background, though in keeping with her role she made no overt demonstration.
Holly... the woman whose quiet and unswerving acceptance had given him his soul back. Only as their eyes met did he find a smile of answering joy breaking over his face as the reality of the nightmare being finally at an end washed over him.
Trip, of course, was as inconveniently observant as ever. Catching that look, he nudged Malcolm and whispered "So when did you meet her, then?"
In a normal life he'd come back with some answer that was as evasive as it was trenchant. Today, however, his normal 'Sod off!' seemed a little harsh, so he simply grinned in reply, setting himself up no doubt for further interrogation in due course.
"I guess dinner's on you, then, Jon?"
"I guess it is, Trip." The captain yawned and stretched, smiling. "But first I'm going to catch some shuteye. Feels like I haven't had a decent night's sleep in years."
"I would definitely recommend that, Captain. And if you feel you might have any difficulty nodding off, I happen to have with me some secretions of my..."
"Doc, if I have any problems, I guarantee I'll give you a call."
Probably the courtroom was required for the next case, for moments later they were all politely asked to leave by the clerk of the court. In a happy group they all trooped out into the corridor and down the stairs, pausing only to take farewells of the attorneys who were bound for their room and presumably more work to note down the details of the successful outcome.
"Damn, it's raining!" Trip looked in dismay at the glass frontage of the reception area, which was being pelted with heavy drops. "Anyone got an umbrella?"
"Don't you dare." Malcolm pushed through the door and tilted his head back, shutting his eyes for a moment to drink in the sensation. That was one of the things you got to experience, when you were free: the feeling of rain on your face.
Unobtrusively, under cover of their momentary closeness, Holly took hold of his hand – an action that was not quite unobtrusive enough to escape the notice of a pair of unearthly blue eyes and elicit another face-splitting smile. Without a shadow of a doubt Phlox was now contemplating the beneficial effects of sex in helping a released prisoner reacclimatise to freedom. Malcolm was definitely planning to work that idea into the conversation himself, but at a much later hour and certainly without an audience, and he made a mental note to have a stern word in the doctor's ear before the dinner. Holly would probably be far more amused than scandalised by the Denobulan's cheerful matter-of-factness about 'mating', but it wouldn't help his own far subtler campaign to have her interrupt with twinkling eyes that Phlox had said the same thing but in a lot fewer words.
For the time being, it was agreed that everybody needed a drink. Grumbling good-naturedly about the rain, which continued to tumble from the clouds, they made their way towards the accommodation block, which had a dining area on the ground floor – complete with a licensed bar for the officers. The occasion definitely called for something a lot stronger than coffee.
Puddles... At the back of the little group Malcolm stamped in one just for the hell of it, and Holly scolded him playfully for splashing her best shoes. But she squeezed his hand too, before releasing it, and he knew she understood exactly why he'd done it.
They'd just reached the shelter of the block's entrance when a flitter drew up, and from it emerged Admiral Forrest, with a smile that was almost as broad as Phlox's. He hopped up the couple of shallow steps and clasped the captain warmly around the shoulders. "Jon, I couldn't be more pleased!" He turned to shake hands with Malcolm. "Well done, everybody!"
Unnoticed in the general gladness, two other people had got out of the flitter, and Forrest turned to include them.
"This isn't the place to go into details," he said, low-voiced. "But I want you to know straight away that we suspect a conspiracy in the High Command. And what you definitely need to know is that this young lady has been subjected to blackmail to force her to testify, and has now appealed for political asylum."
"Which I believe will be granted, and for which I am duly grateful." Soval was as calm as ever, but as he glanced down at his companion there was no mistaking his affection and respect.
"I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, Captain, Lieutenant." T'Pol stood very straight, looking from one to the other of them. "My mother's safety was threatened if I failed to cooperate. I weighed your welfare against hers, and made my decision. For everything that decision has caused you, I am truly sorry."
There was a moment's silence. Malcolm glanced at the captain, willing him to speak for both of them; he wasn't sure his own voice would serve him just then.
Archer stared back at her expressionlessly for perhaps thirty seconds. Gone was the naïve, impulsive young explorer who'd taken the Enterprise out of space dock half-prepared. This was the face of the man who'd stared down the Expanse and seen his own demons there.
Then, slowly, the smile appeared. "Well, I guess you'll all like to join us for dinner tonight then. All officers and friends invited."
Soval blinked and for a second or two seemed perilously close to smiling in his turn. "That is very gracious of you, Captain, especially in the circumstances. Unless T'Pol has any objection, we would be happy to accept."
The tiniest flicker of a glance towards a certain Commander Tucker, whose expression was one of quiet satisfaction. "I believe that would be most agreeable."
"I'll book a table and let everyone know when and where!" declared the admiral. "Now, if you'll excuse us, gentlemen, we've got a meeting to go to." He grimaced and added, "Probably not the last!"
The flitter's passengers got back in and the vehicle sped away. No doubt the meeting to come would be at an extremely high level. Malcolm wondered briefly and irreverently whether Harris would be putting in an appearance, but it wasn't likely; he might possibly be provoked into providing 'information received', but that was the most that could be expected.
"Jon, d'you think there'd be a problem if I asked Hoshi along?" asked Trip. "She's in Sonoma at the moment but I'm sure she'll drive down if I call her right now. I don't think we'd be here if it wasn't for her."
"Sure! I'll call Max and let him know." The captain led the way into the building. "I've heard some of this from Sinclair, but..."
Malcolm held back for a moment and, seeing him, Holly paused in the doorway, waiting for him.
"You don't value it till you've lost it," he said in a low voice, looking around him, his gaze abstracted.
"I know, sweetie," she replied softly. "Perhaps I had to learn that too."
The word brought his gaze back to her. "You mean...?"
She dimpled roguishly. "I rule nothing in..."
"...And nothing out. Now, how did I know you were going to say that?" With a couple of long strides he rejoined her. "Come on, I want that drink. But don't think this conversation is over, Missy, because it's not."
"Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?" she asked as they headed for the table where the others were pulling out chairs.
"Oh, I'm sure I can find a bed somewhere. Preferably one with you in it."
"You're persistent, I'll give you that."
"Holly, you have yet to learn just how persistent I can be if I want something hard enough. And did you know you look perfectly lovely when you're blushing? I don't think I've ever managed to make you blush before."
"Despite your best efforts." She laughed. "Be careful, Commander Tucker's looking at us."
"Oh, he's in no position to throw stones. I've got a few questions I can ask him if he starts getting too nosy about us." He glanced at Trip, who winked and grinned.
"Looks like T'Pol won't be going back to Vulcan in a hurry, then," he remarked as the two of them reached the table. "Good news for some, eh?"
The grin turned into a glare.
Captain Archer coughed. "How about we tell this poor waiter what drinks we want instead of keeping him hanging around?"
"Yes, indeed!" Phlox had picked up the cocktail menu and was studying it with interest. "My, what fascinating names some of these drinks have! Would anyone fancy a 'Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against The Wall'?"
As the captain and Trip spluttered, Malcolm looked meaningfully at Holly, who was struggling not to laugh – though he noticed she'd gone pinker than ever.
You will, my girl, he told her silently. Sooner or later, you will!
