CHAPTER 10: Strange How Lies Can Have Such Depth
AUTHOR: MNEMOSYNE
RATING: R, for violence and some language
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Deathfic
CODES: R/S (heavy on the R) with touches of everyone
FIFTEEN MONTHS EARLIER
He sat in the dark, like a panther stalking its prey. Hawk-like blue eyes stared unmoving at the cabin door, waiting. He could be a very patient man, when events dictated.
When the door opened, he had a moment of hesitation. She looked so happy, still laughing from some joke told to her by a passing crewmember. Soft black hair hung in waves over her shoulders and down her back; loose like he loved it.
A green flame flared to life in his gut, and his knuckles whitened on the arms of his chair.
"Malcolm!" Hoshi chirped excitedly, slinging herself down on their bed and beginning to unbutton her blouse. "You missed a hilarious movie! Have you ever seen Some Like it Hot? It's an old black and white movie from ages ago. I don't think I've laughed that much in years!"
He said nothing.
"I wonder if I could talk Jonathan into staging a production of it," Hoshi prattled on, absently tossing her blouse aside and leaning back on one elbow, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. She laughed. "I think you and Trip would be excellent in the lead roles. You'd be a fantastic Tony Curtis." She splayed a hand against her chest and pouted her lips at him. "I, of course, would be Marilyn Monroe. Don't you think I'd look great as a blonde?"
Still no answer.
"Malcolm, what's up?" Hoshi asked, sitting up and giving him a puzzled look. "You haven't said two words to me. You haven't said ONE word to me." She tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"
//Calmly,// he told himself. //Calmly.//
"Which one is it?" he asked between gritted teeth, proud of his restraint.
"What? Which one is what?"
His knuckles whitened even more as he clenched his hands tighter. "Which one… is your LOVER!" he barked, pushing himself to his feet and towering over her. //Perhaps a little calmer,// he chided himself.
Hoshi blinked up at him. "What?"
"You heard me!"
"My LOVER?"
"Yes, your LOVER. As in the one you make love to every night. The one who ISN'T me!"
Hoshi's eyes were flashing now, matching his for intensity. "You have got to be kidding me." She stood up, and though she wasn't nose to nose with him, she certainly seemed to be towering in her own right. "What the HELL makes you think I'm having an affair!"
"Oh, let's tally the evidence, shall we?" He was warming to this argument; it had been brewing in his veins all day. Purposefully, he began to pace. "Evidence A: you spend more nights out than in."
"Because I have FRIENDS, Malcolm. FRIENDS. So do you, if you'd just crawl out from under your rock and NOTICE them!"
Malcolm ignored her. "Evidence B," he continued, still pacing and refusing to look at her. "We haven't made love in more than a week."
"Because you've been doing double shifts in the Armory while Parkins is sick. You're barely coherent when you crawl into bed!"
Malcolm snorted. "Evidence C, and the most damning of all." He strode to his dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out…
….a sock.
"This," he said, holding up the piece of clothing. "One man's sock. Bottle green. Origin unknown."
Hoshi stared at him. "You're basing this entire thing… on a sock?"
"An unfamiliar, hitherto unknown sock."
"Malcolm, it's a SOCK! Have you ever heard of static cling? Perhaps it got stuck to one of our uniforms in the laundry."
He snorted again. "A likely story."
"It's a hell of a lot more likely than me having a torrid love affair behind your back!" Stalking across the room, Hoshi snatched the sock out of his hand and balled it up in her fist. "Where's all this jealousy coming from all of a sudden, Malcolm?" she asked, eyes and voice angry. "Because it doesn't suit you. It doesn't suit you at all."
"I don't appreciate being cuckolded."
"Cuck…?" Hoshi barked out a short, derisive laugh, crossing her arms and staring at him in disbelief. "Malcolm, crawl out of the Renaissance, all right? Listen to what you're saying. You're accusing me of cheating on you. YOU. My husband of… less than six months! Do you really think that little of me?"
"Do you really think so little of ME that I wouldn't notice?"
She threw her hands in the air. "I'm not going to do this with you, Malcolm. I'm not going to have this fight. It's ridiculous, and I'm not going to dignify it with any more of my precious time." Grabbing her blouse up off the bed, she pulled it on and began rebuttoning it.
Malcolm felt a pang of worry stab him square in the gut, but managed to fight it down. "Where are you going?"
She shook her head, staring down at her hands as they deftly hooked buttons through holes. "To sleep the night away in my lover's embrace."
He wilted. "So you admit it."
"God, Malcolm!" She looked at him, frustrated. "No, I don't mean it. I don't HAVE a lover." After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and trailed her fingers down his chest. "Except you."
Malcolm stared down his body, watching her fingertips graze over his stomach. "Why are you with me?" he asked suddenly, voice little more than a whisper.
"Because I love you," she murmured. "I don't need anymore reason than that."
"You deserve better than me, Hoshi." He looked up, finding her eyes by memory. "You always have."
She shook her head and sidled closer. "No I don't," she whispered, gazing up into his face and stroking his cheek with a tender hand. "I never want anyone else, because they aren't you, Malcolm."
"Hoshi-"
"Shhhh," she cut him off, and rested her fingers over his lips. A soft smile tugged at her lips. "What am I going to do with you, Malcolm Reed?" she asked, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist and rocking them gently side to side. "How am I going to make you believe that I love you?"
He blushed. She was the only one who could make him blush like that. "I know you love me," he said sheepishly.
"But you don't like to admit it."
He said nothing.
Hoshi sighed. "You're not going to lose me, Malcolm," she told him, rubbing his back. "I'm not going to run off with some dashing knight on a snow white horse. I'm not going to join the circus. I'm not going to vanish into thin air without a trace. I'm not going to leave you, Malcolm, because I don't WANT to. I LOVE you, you idiot. The sooner you get that into your thick, British skull, the sooner you can stop moping and start kissing me."
Malcolm couldn't resist a grin. "I'm not moping," he protested, but there was no force behind the words.
"Then why aren't you kissing me?" Hoshi teased, eyes dancing.
He quickly solved that problem.
Later that night, as they languished in the afterglow, Hoshi murmured against his chest, "I have something to tell you."
"Mmmm?" he murmured sleepily, eyes half-closed, fingers idly playing with her silky hair.
"I went to see Doctor Phlox today."
He forced his eyes open. "Are you all right, luv?" he asked, concerned.
She smiled up at him and nodded. "I'm fine. I just wanted to ask him a few questions."
"Did he answer them for you?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Well what did he say? Don't keep me in suspense." He smiled and closed his eyes, combing his fingers deeper into her hair.
"I'm pregnant."
His hand froze. Slowly, he reopened his eyes, and found himself staring deeply into hers. "Come again?" he asked, breathless.
"I'm pregnant," she repeated, a nervous smile twitching on her lips.
Malcolm stared at her.
Hoshi shifted uncomfortably. "Say something," she murmured, looking away. "Don't just stare at me like I'm a fish in a bowl. It's … unnerving."
"You're pregnant," he breathed.
"The evidence would seem to suggest that, yes."
"Am… Am I the father?" The instant he said it, he knew it sounded wrong.
"Of course you're the father, idiot!" she shrieked, and began hitting him with a pillow. "What kind of woman do you think I am! You think I'm having a baby with Sock Man?"
Raising his hands to shield himself from her blows, he exclaimed, "I'm sorry! I said it wrong! I meant… I meant I'm going to be a father!"
Her pummeling paused, and he risked a peek at her through his fingers. Thankfully, the anger that had suffused her face seemed to have ebbed away, to be replaced by soft affection. "Yes, Malcolm," she murmured, setting down her pillow. "You're going to be a father." She paused, then asked, "Are you happy?"
The question floored him. "I… Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, it's… a little soon. We've barely been married a few months, and now we're already going to be par-"
He stopped her with a kiss. She moaned with surprise, then slid her small hands up to hook over his shoulders as he gently rolled her beneath him.
"I haven't been this happy since you said you'd marry me, luv," he whispered against her mouth, his own lips shaking. "I can't wait to be a father."
Her beaming smile was all the prompting he needed. Covering her mouth with his, he laced their fingers together, thrilling to the tempo of their mingled pulses. If he squeezed very tightly, he could almost imagine a third beat joining in the rhythm, and making it complete.