How Did You Die?
***
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how well did you take it?
***
He heard the door slam and watched through his window as his father stalked away from
the house. He settled back on his bed and looked down at the offending report. His
grades weren't bad but they weren't top of the class either and that wasn't acceptable for
Stuart Reed. Malcolm had dreaded that day. He knew what his grades were and he knew
what his father's reaction was going to be and all he wanted to do right then was to crawl
into a little ball and die.
"These are unacceptable Malcolm," his father growled, as he looked the report over
thoroughly. Malcolm stood in front of him, standing as straight and still as he possibly
could. He didn't want to give his father any more reason to criticize. It felt like he had
stood there for an hour waiting for the ax to drop though it was probably only five
minutes.
His father stroked his chin as he read over the grades, making comments as he went but
never looking at his son. When the reading was over his father stood up. He dwarfed the
boy, which was his intention. The big man utilized any form of intimidation he could
when dealing with his small son. He had disappointment in his eyes as he looked upon
the boy. Malcolm would rather have had the strap instead of that look. He tried to hold
his father's gaze but once again fear crept into him and he looked away.
"Look me in the eye boy," his father said glaring down at him.
Malcolm brought his eyes up to meet the man's piercing look but quickly averted them
again looking anywhere but at his father. Malcolm wished he were a million kilometers
away from there. Somewhere far away from his father's disapproving stares and
condemning words, a place where he could be himself and not have to try to be the son
he knew he could never be.
His eyes drifted out the window toward the stars. There he thought, is where he would be
safe. His father could never reach him there; he was too locked to the ground, to the sea.
Only out amongst the stars could Malcolm ever be at peace.
The father grabbed his small son by the chin and forced him to look at him. "You disgust
me," he said.
***
You are beaten to earth? Well, well what's with that!
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that's a disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you'll bounce;
Be proud of the blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight-and why?
***
It had been a long four years but he had made it and at the top of his class to boot.
Malcolm had received his commission and the congratulations of his classmates and
instructors but he still had a hollow feeling as he walked away from the parade ground.
Deep down he knew they wouldn't come but all the same he had hoped they would.
Maddy's absence did surprise him but he understood. She would have been there had she
not had finals. But his parents didn't have any excuse.
All his life his parents, really his father as his mother never did anything without his
approval, always had an excuse when it came to the important moments in his life. They
missed award ceremonies, sporting championships, graduations; they would probably
miss his wedding if he ever were to have one. Nothing he ever did seemed to please his
father and eventually he had stopped trying, but nevertheless he had held onto the fleeting
hope that his mother and father would be there as he received his commission.
Entering Star Fleet had been the final blow in his stormy relationship with his father. He
hadn't spoken directly to him since the day he had announced his decision to forgo the
Royal Navy and go into Star Fleet. It was a day that Malcolm had tried to forget.
"You're doing what?" Stuart Reed said his voice increasing in volume with each word.
"I'm joining Star Fleet, Sir," Malcolm said softly never taking his eyes off his dinner
plate.
"Please pass the vegetables Stuart," Mary Reed asked, trying to diffuse the situation that
was about to blow up at the family dinner table.
Stuart only passed his wife a menacing look, which caused her to flush and return to
pushing peas around her plate. Even Madeline, who could usually soften her father,
realized the quagmire that Malcolm had stepped in and nothing she could do could save
him now.
"I'll ask you again, you're doing what?" the elder Reed said glaring over at the youth
who was sitting to his right.
Malcolm took a deep breath, gathered up all his courage and looked his father in the eye.
"I'm joining Star Fleet," he said defiantly.
It became deathly quiet as the two men stared at each other. The silence was interrupted
as Mary Reed picked up her plate and stood up, motioning to her daughter to follow her.
"Come Madeline, let's go to the kitchen and see about dessert."
Madeline reluctantly joined her mother not wanting to leave her brother in the lurch.
Malcolm broke eye contact with his father to look to his sister as she got up from the
table. She gave him a sad smile and then disappeared with his mother behind the kitchen
door. Once again his mother had left him to face his father alone but this time Malcolm
had resolved not to back down, not to wilt under his father's oppressiveness. He would
stand up to him and damn the consequences.
He could feel the heat radiating from his father and he turned back to meet his eyes once
again. His father had never taken his eyes off Malcolm and when the young man had
turned back towards him he intensified his glare.
"No son of mine will join Star Fleet," Stuart said matter-a-factly. "You will join the
Royal Navy and you'll like it and we'll not hear another word about joining up with those
rocket jockeys again." His voice was calm and soft as he gave his order to his son. He
had ordered Malcolm around all his life and all his life Malcolm had buckled under
Stuart's stern command and this time would be no different.
Stuart has returned to eating his dinner as if the entire conversation had never occurred.
Malcolm continued to look at his father, his anger and hatred growing as he watched him
meticulously slice a piece of his lamb and put it into his mouth. Without even thinking
Malcolm stood up and stepped over to his father, looking down on the man for the first
time in his life.
"I am joining Star Fleet whether you approve or not," Malcolm stated flatly. Stuart
continued chewing his lamb and then took a long slow drink of water. Malcolm
continued standing there, waiting for his father to react. Stuart casually wiped his mouth
with his napkin.
"Did you hear me?" Malcolm demanded as his father continued to ignore his presence. "I
said, I'm joining Star Fleet and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Stuart Reed slowly stood up. He was still a head taller then his son and still used his size
to intimidate Malcolm but this time Malcolm stood his ground. His father's blue eyes
narrowed as he locked eyes with his son, "You will not disgrace the family name
Malcolm. Reed's have always been Navy men and they will always be Navy men and I
won't let a little puff like you sully our family's name and reputation." He leaned close,
his heavy breath falling onto Malcolm's face. "Do you understand me boy?"
Malcolm wanted to turn and run. To get as far away from this man as he possibly could
and he knew the only way he could do that was to join Star Fleet. He had to stand up to
him now if he had any chance of getting away, any chance of being his own person.
"I understand you completely," Malcolm said, a slight quiver in his voice betrayed the
strong front he was trying to put forth. "And the only disgrace to this family is you!" he
accused.
Stuart Reed was speechless for a moment. Never before had Malcolm spoke back to him.
Never before had Malcolm defied him and here he stood in Stuart's own house at Stuart's
own table not only defying him but insulting him as well. Where did the boy get the
nerve and even more, how did he think he'd get away with it?
Stuart reached out and grabbed Malcolm by the collar and pulled him close. "Listen you
little piece of shite, you have done enough to dishonor this family. Your complete
ineptitude in sports, your lackluster performance in school and the fact that you are a
homosexual have brought nothing but pain and embarrassment to this family. I will not
let you drag the Reed name down any farther."
Stuart Reed didn't get to finish his tirade. All the abuse, criticism and animosity that had
been heaped upon him the past 17 years had finally taken its toll. Malcolm Reed had had
enough and without even thinking about it he reached out and hit his father in the jaw.
The elder Reed stumbled backward from the force and surprise of the blow. Once he
regained his balance he reached up and caressed his chin where Malcolm had connected.
Malcolm had also stepped back, shocked at his own action and unsure of what was going
to happen next.
Mary Reed and Madeline rushed back into the dining room when they heard the scuffle.
Malcolm took his eyes off his father to glance at his mother and when he turned back to
his father it was just in time to see the fist as it sailed toward his head. His father's blow
had knocked him off his feet and back into the wall. His mother had started toward him
when his father had put up a hand to stop her, she did.
Malcolm was dazed as he brought his hand up to his eye and felt the swelling. When he
tried to look at his father he realized that the eye was almost swollen shut.
"Get out of my house," he heard his father say as he towered over him.
"Stuart, no," he heard his mother gasp but it was his father's voice that filled his head.
"Leave this house immediately and I don't want you back here until you have proper
respect and an apology for me. Now leave!"
That was the last time Malcolm had seen his father in person.
***
And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?
***
Contacting the family was the hardest thing he ever had to do and although he'd done it
many times before it never got any easier. This time would be no exception. He had been
in his quarters since it had happened and with the exception of Phlox and Trip he hadn't
talked to anyone since either. He had two communications he had to make and he
dreaded both of them. The call to Admiral Forrest would be unpleasant but no where near
the awkwardness that the call to Malcolm's parents would be. Trip had even offered to
make the call but Jonathan knew it was his place as Malcolm's commanding officer and
lover to tell them.
He had only a few experiences with Malcolm's parents and none of them were good. He
thought back to the first time he talked to them, when he was trying to find out what to
make Malcolm for his birthday. The coldness he felt from Stuart Reed touched him to his
core. He had never met any father who was so disinterested and detached from his son as
Stuart was with Malcolm. Jon couldn't understand it but then again the intense love he
felt for Malcolm was immeasurable and how someone, especially his father couldn't feel
love for him was completely beyond Jon's understanding.
Now Jon had to call and tell this man that his son was dead. He didn't know if he could
handle Stuart's reaction. If it was anything but pain and regret Jon wasn't sure he would
be able to keep his composure.
But now the time had come. Would it matter to Reed to know his son died a hero, that he
sacrificed himself for his crew, for his Captain? Would Malcolm's last words matter to
him, would he even understand them?
Hoshi interrupted his thoughts, "Captain, I have them."
"Put them through," he responded as he reached for his console. The screen flashed from
the Star Fleet insignia to the figures of a man and woman.
"Mr. and Mrs. Reed, I regret to inform you…"
It had been a routine mission. Archer had gone down to the surface of a planet that was
making first contact with Earth. It was to be a simple diplomatic mission, meet the ruling
council, discuss trade and sign a treaty. But it turned out to be anything but routine.
The ruling council wasn't as unified on the matter of trade and relations with Earth as
they had implied in their discussions with Captain Archer. Enterprise went in blind,
completely unaware of the civil conflict that had been simmering under the surface. The
initial meeting had gone well but when a protest had been put down rather violently an up
swell against the present government began to form.
The away team never stood a chance as they were caught in the middle of this conflict.
They would have all been killed had it not been for Malcolm. He had provided cover fire
for Archer, Hoshi, Mayweather and T'Pol to get back to the shuttle but not before he had
taken several shots. Malcolm had collapsed just as he made it to the shuttle and Jon had
managed to pull him inside.
Jon sat in the back of the shuttle with his arms around Malcolm as Hoshi attempted to
stop the bleeding. He watched as the color drained from the face of his lover and he felt
the younger man's laboring breathing against his own chest.
"Malcolm, hang on. We're going to get you back to the ship and Phlox will take care of
you. I promise," Archer said stroking the side of Malcolm's face.
Malcolm slowly opened his eyes. "Is everyone okay?" he asked between pants.
Jon glanced up at Hoshi who had tears in her eyes. They both knew that Malcolm's
wounds were bad. "Yes Malcolm, everyone is fine thanks to you."
Jon thought back on his relationship with Malcolm. All the times Malcolm had been
willing to sacrifice his life for the crew, how important that seemed to be to him. He
knew he had to let Malcolm know what he had done, that he had done his job.
"You're a hero," Jon whispered, his voice cracking. "You've always been my hero
Malcolm Reed."
Malcolm smiled, "I love you Jon, I've always loved you." Jon leaned down and kissed
him gently on the cheek.
"Jon, please do me a favor?" Malcolm said and then began to cough.
"No, Malcolm. Whatever it is, you'll do it. You're going to make it Mister Reed," Jon
pleaded.
"Please Jon," Malcolm said, blood trickling from his mouth. "I need you to do this for
me." With tremendous effort he turned his head toward the man that was holding him.
"Please tell my father I am sorry." Malcolm's voice was getting weaker. Jon looked at
him with shock in his eyes. What did Malcolm have to be sorry for? If anyone owed
anyone an apology, Stuart Reed should be on his knees begging Malcolm for forgiveness.
Before Jon could say anything, Malcolm continued. "Tell him I am sorry that I was such
a disappointment but all I really ever wanted was to make him proud. Please tell him I
died well."
Jonathan Archer took a deep breath as he felt the life slip away from the man in his arms.
"I will my friend, but you were never a disappointment to anyone."
~~~~
'How Did You Die' by EDMUND VANCE COOKE
***
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how well did you take it?
***
He heard the door slam and watched through his window as his father stalked away from
the house. He settled back on his bed and looked down at the offending report. His
grades weren't bad but they weren't top of the class either and that wasn't acceptable for
Stuart Reed. Malcolm had dreaded that day. He knew what his grades were and he knew
what his father's reaction was going to be and all he wanted to do right then was to crawl
into a little ball and die.
"These are unacceptable Malcolm," his father growled, as he looked the report over
thoroughly. Malcolm stood in front of him, standing as straight and still as he possibly
could. He didn't want to give his father any more reason to criticize. It felt like he had
stood there for an hour waiting for the ax to drop though it was probably only five
minutes.
His father stroked his chin as he read over the grades, making comments as he went but
never looking at his son. When the reading was over his father stood up. He dwarfed the
boy, which was his intention. The big man utilized any form of intimidation he could
when dealing with his small son. He had disappointment in his eyes as he looked upon
the boy. Malcolm would rather have had the strap instead of that look. He tried to hold
his father's gaze but once again fear crept into him and he looked away.
"Look me in the eye boy," his father said glaring down at him.
Malcolm brought his eyes up to meet the man's piercing look but quickly averted them
again looking anywhere but at his father. Malcolm wished he were a million kilometers
away from there. Somewhere far away from his father's disapproving stares and
condemning words, a place where he could be himself and not have to try to be the son
he knew he could never be.
His eyes drifted out the window toward the stars. There he thought, is where he would be
safe. His father could never reach him there; he was too locked to the ground, to the sea.
Only out amongst the stars could Malcolm ever be at peace.
The father grabbed his small son by the chin and forced him to look at him. "You disgust
me," he said.
***
You are beaten to earth? Well, well what's with that!
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that's a disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you'll bounce;
Be proud of the blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight-and why?
***
It had been a long four years but he had made it and at the top of his class to boot.
Malcolm had received his commission and the congratulations of his classmates and
instructors but he still had a hollow feeling as he walked away from the parade ground.
Deep down he knew they wouldn't come but all the same he had hoped they would.
Maddy's absence did surprise him but he understood. She would have been there had she
not had finals. But his parents didn't have any excuse.
All his life his parents, really his father as his mother never did anything without his
approval, always had an excuse when it came to the important moments in his life. They
missed award ceremonies, sporting championships, graduations; they would probably
miss his wedding if he ever were to have one. Nothing he ever did seemed to please his
father and eventually he had stopped trying, but nevertheless he had held onto the fleeting
hope that his mother and father would be there as he received his commission.
Entering Star Fleet had been the final blow in his stormy relationship with his father. He
hadn't spoken directly to him since the day he had announced his decision to forgo the
Royal Navy and go into Star Fleet. It was a day that Malcolm had tried to forget.
"You're doing what?" Stuart Reed said his voice increasing in volume with each word.
"I'm joining Star Fleet, Sir," Malcolm said softly never taking his eyes off his dinner
plate.
"Please pass the vegetables Stuart," Mary Reed asked, trying to diffuse the situation that
was about to blow up at the family dinner table.
Stuart only passed his wife a menacing look, which caused her to flush and return to
pushing peas around her plate. Even Madeline, who could usually soften her father,
realized the quagmire that Malcolm had stepped in and nothing she could do could save
him now.
"I'll ask you again, you're doing what?" the elder Reed said glaring over at the youth
who was sitting to his right.
Malcolm took a deep breath, gathered up all his courage and looked his father in the eye.
"I'm joining Star Fleet," he said defiantly.
It became deathly quiet as the two men stared at each other. The silence was interrupted
as Mary Reed picked up her plate and stood up, motioning to her daughter to follow her.
"Come Madeline, let's go to the kitchen and see about dessert."
Madeline reluctantly joined her mother not wanting to leave her brother in the lurch.
Malcolm broke eye contact with his father to look to his sister as she got up from the
table. She gave him a sad smile and then disappeared with his mother behind the kitchen
door. Once again his mother had left him to face his father alone but this time Malcolm
had resolved not to back down, not to wilt under his father's oppressiveness. He would
stand up to him and damn the consequences.
He could feel the heat radiating from his father and he turned back to meet his eyes once
again. His father had never taken his eyes off Malcolm and when the young man had
turned back towards him he intensified his glare.
"No son of mine will join Star Fleet," Stuart said matter-a-factly. "You will join the
Royal Navy and you'll like it and we'll not hear another word about joining up with those
rocket jockeys again." His voice was calm and soft as he gave his order to his son. He
had ordered Malcolm around all his life and all his life Malcolm had buckled under
Stuart's stern command and this time would be no different.
Stuart has returned to eating his dinner as if the entire conversation had never occurred.
Malcolm continued to look at his father, his anger and hatred growing as he watched him
meticulously slice a piece of his lamb and put it into his mouth. Without even thinking
Malcolm stood up and stepped over to his father, looking down on the man for the first
time in his life.
"I am joining Star Fleet whether you approve or not," Malcolm stated flatly. Stuart
continued chewing his lamb and then took a long slow drink of water. Malcolm
continued standing there, waiting for his father to react. Stuart casually wiped his mouth
with his napkin.
"Did you hear me?" Malcolm demanded as his father continued to ignore his presence. "I
said, I'm joining Star Fleet and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Stuart Reed slowly stood up. He was still a head taller then his son and still used his size
to intimidate Malcolm but this time Malcolm stood his ground. His father's blue eyes
narrowed as he locked eyes with his son, "You will not disgrace the family name
Malcolm. Reed's have always been Navy men and they will always be Navy men and I
won't let a little puff like you sully our family's name and reputation." He leaned close,
his heavy breath falling onto Malcolm's face. "Do you understand me boy?"
Malcolm wanted to turn and run. To get as far away from this man as he possibly could
and he knew the only way he could do that was to join Star Fleet. He had to stand up to
him now if he had any chance of getting away, any chance of being his own person.
"I understand you completely," Malcolm said, a slight quiver in his voice betrayed the
strong front he was trying to put forth. "And the only disgrace to this family is you!" he
accused.
Stuart Reed was speechless for a moment. Never before had Malcolm spoke back to him.
Never before had Malcolm defied him and here he stood in Stuart's own house at Stuart's
own table not only defying him but insulting him as well. Where did the boy get the
nerve and even more, how did he think he'd get away with it?
Stuart reached out and grabbed Malcolm by the collar and pulled him close. "Listen you
little piece of shite, you have done enough to dishonor this family. Your complete
ineptitude in sports, your lackluster performance in school and the fact that you are a
homosexual have brought nothing but pain and embarrassment to this family. I will not
let you drag the Reed name down any farther."
Stuart Reed didn't get to finish his tirade. All the abuse, criticism and animosity that had
been heaped upon him the past 17 years had finally taken its toll. Malcolm Reed had had
enough and without even thinking about it he reached out and hit his father in the jaw.
The elder Reed stumbled backward from the force and surprise of the blow. Once he
regained his balance he reached up and caressed his chin where Malcolm had connected.
Malcolm had also stepped back, shocked at his own action and unsure of what was going
to happen next.
Mary Reed and Madeline rushed back into the dining room when they heard the scuffle.
Malcolm took his eyes off his father to glance at his mother and when he turned back to
his father it was just in time to see the fist as it sailed toward his head. His father's blow
had knocked him off his feet and back into the wall. His mother had started toward him
when his father had put up a hand to stop her, she did.
Malcolm was dazed as he brought his hand up to his eye and felt the swelling. When he
tried to look at his father he realized that the eye was almost swollen shut.
"Get out of my house," he heard his father say as he towered over him.
"Stuart, no," he heard his mother gasp but it was his father's voice that filled his head.
"Leave this house immediately and I don't want you back here until you have proper
respect and an apology for me. Now leave!"
That was the last time Malcolm had seen his father in person.
***
And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?
***
Contacting the family was the hardest thing he ever had to do and although he'd done it
many times before it never got any easier. This time would be no exception. He had been
in his quarters since it had happened and with the exception of Phlox and Trip he hadn't
talked to anyone since either. He had two communications he had to make and he
dreaded both of them. The call to Admiral Forrest would be unpleasant but no where near
the awkwardness that the call to Malcolm's parents would be. Trip had even offered to
make the call but Jonathan knew it was his place as Malcolm's commanding officer and
lover to tell them.
He had only a few experiences with Malcolm's parents and none of them were good. He
thought back to the first time he talked to them, when he was trying to find out what to
make Malcolm for his birthday. The coldness he felt from Stuart Reed touched him to his
core. He had never met any father who was so disinterested and detached from his son as
Stuart was with Malcolm. Jon couldn't understand it but then again the intense love he
felt for Malcolm was immeasurable and how someone, especially his father couldn't feel
love for him was completely beyond Jon's understanding.
Now Jon had to call and tell this man that his son was dead. He didn't know if he could
handle Stuart's reaction. If it was anything but pain and regret Jon wasn't sure he would
be able to keep his composure.
But now the time had come. Would it matter to Reed to know his son died a hero, that he
sacrificed himself for his crew, for his Captain? Would Malcolm's last words matter to
him, would he even understand them?
Hoshi interrupted his thoughts, "Captain, I have them."
"Put them through," he responded as he reached for his console. The screen flashed from
the Star Fleet insignia to the figures of a man and woman.
"Mr. and Mrs. Reed, I regret to inform you…"
It had been a routine mission. Archer had gone down to the surface of a planet that was
making first contact with Earth. It was to be a simple diplomatic mission, meet the ruling
council, discuss trade and sign a treaty. But it turned out to be anything but routine.
The ruling council wasn't as unified on the matter of trade and relations with Earth as
they had implied in their discussions with Captain Archer. Enterprise went in blind,
completely unaware of the civil conflict that had been simmering under the surface. The
initial meeting had gone well but when a protest had been put down rather violently an up
swell against the present government began to form.
The away team never stood a chance as they were caught in the middle of this conflict.
They would have all been killed had it not been for Malcolm. He had provided cover fire
for Archer, Hoshi, Mayweather and T'Pol to get back to the shuttle but not before he had
taken several shots. Malcolm had collapsed just as he made it to the shuttle and Jon had
managed to pull him inside.
Jon sat in the back of the shuttle with his arms around Malcolm as Hoshi attempted to
stop the bleeding. He watched as the color drained from the face of his lover and he felt
the younger man's laboring breathing against his own chest.
"Malcolm, hang on. We're going to get you back to the ship and Phlox will take care of
you. I promise," Archer said stroking the side of Malcolm's face.
Malcolm slowly opened his eyes. "Is everyone okay?" he asked between pants.
Jon glanced up at Hoshi who had tears in her eyes. They both knew that Malcolm's
wounds were bad. "Yes Malcolm, everyone is fine thanks to you."
Jon thought back on his relationship with Malcolm. All the times Malcolm had been
willing to sacrifice his life for the crew, how important that seemed to be to him. He
knew he had to let Malcolm know what he had done, that he had done his job.
"You're a hero," Jon whispered, his voice cracking. "You've always been my hero
Malcolm Reed."
Malcolm smiled, "I love you Jon, I've always loved you." Jon leaned down and kissed
him gently on the cheek.
"Jon, please do me a favor?" Malcolm said and then began to cough.
"No, Malcolm. Whatever it is, you'll do it. You're going to make it Mister Reed," Jon
pleaded.
"Please Jon," Malcolm said, blood trickling from his mouth. "I need you to do this for
me." With tremendous effort he turned his head toward the man that was holding him.
"Please tell my father I am sorry." Malcolm's voice was getting weaker. Jon looked at
him with shock in his eyes. What did Malcolm have to be sorry for? If anyone owed
anyone an apology, Stuart Reed should be on his knees begging Malcolm for forgiveness.
Before Jon could say anything, Malcolm continued. "Tell him I am sorry that I was such
a disappointment but all I really ever wanted was to make him proud. Please tell him I
died well."
Jonathan Archer took a deep breath as he felt the life slip away from the man in his arms.
"I will my friend, but you were never a disappointment to anyone."
~~~~
'How Did You Die' by EDMUND VANCE COOKE