CHAPTER 2: Ye Days of Olde
AUTHOR: MNEMOSYNE
SUMMARY: On a lush planet devoid of sentient life, the crew of the Enterprise discover an ancient alien religious artifact that takes two of the crew on a vision quest to Camelot.
Malcolm's idea of A plan turned out to be getting dressed and pacing. Lots and lots of pacing.
"Malcolm, would you stop that?" Hoshi snapped. "You're making me dizzy." She was having no luck fastening the hooks and eyes and thousands of buttons that seemed to make up her dress. The entire blasted thing seemed to be made of buttons.
"It helps me think, Hoshi," he snapped back. Ensign and Lieutenant had been forgotten for the moment. "And at least one of us needs to be thinking right now."
That made her shoot him an acid glare. "Are you trying to imply I'm not trying to think of a way out of this?"
"All you seem to be thinking about is your dress!"
"That's because it has a mind of its own!" With a growl of fury, she tore the offending material off and threw it aside. She stood there in her shift, shivering with anger, frustration, and a little fear. And cold. Castles, it turned out, were chilly.
A moment later, she felt a warm hand on her elbow, and it made her jump. She looked up. "I'm sorry," Malcolm said softly, gazing down into her eyes. "I shouldn't have yelled. I know you're trying just as hard as I am to think of a way out of here."
Hoshi stared at him for a moment, enjoying the infusing warmth of her anger. After a few moments, her body loosened, and she gave him a faint smile. "I know," she murmured, nodding and looking down at his hand on her elbow. "I'm sorry, too. I guess we're just both on edge."
Malcolm chuckled faintly. "That's quite the understatement. These breeches are terribly uncomfortable."
Hoshi laughed then and looked up at him. His blue eyes were sparkling and a rare smile was crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Well at least you didn't need twenty hands to put them on," she told him.
"If I'm remembering my history correctly, that's one of the reasons royalty had handmaidens. To help them dress. Perhaps we should call yours."
Hoshi shuddered at the thought of being dressed by a melee of strangers. "I'll do it on my own, thank you," she told him firmly, and stared at the heap of green silk and embroidery at her feet. If it was possible for a dress to lurk, that was precisely what it was doing.
She saw Malcolm stoop over to pick up the ornate material. He actually looked quite dashing in his blue and white velvet tunic, belted at the waist, and blue breeches, laced up the sides to accent his muscular legs. Even the leather boots were flattering. "Let me help you," he offered, standing up and offering her the bundle of cloth. "It's the least I can do."
Hoshi stared at him for a second, then gave in. "Okay," she agreed, nodding once and taking the dress. "But if I'm still getting buttoned in after twenty minutes, I'm stealing your clothes and parading around as a man."
Malcolm laughed as he helped her ease back into the dress. It was a comforting sound.
***********
Three hours and one extensive search later, Hoshi found herself once again in the tower bedroom with Malcolm. All levity from their morning conversation had been forgotten, replaced with dour resignation.
"Nothing," Malcolm said, voice grim and raspy. "I simply can't believe there's NOTHING."
Hoshi didn't want to believe it, either, but that didn't mean she was a fool. Whatever they had to do to escape this vision, it wasn't going to be as simple as opening a door and stepping out onto the alien planet again.
"So we have no visible means of escape," she proclaimed, accepting. "What does that leave us?"
"The futile hope that Trip is somehow going to beam us out of this?"
Hoshi couldn't resist a soft laugh. "Malcolm, be serious," she chided, smiling as she did so. "Like I said earlier, you're the tactical officer. What does your training tell us to do in this situation?"
Malcolm sighed and slumped in an ornately carved and cushioned chair that someone had positioned beside the window, presumably at the same time they'd changed the bed linens. "My training tells me to wait this out," he replied, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at his clasped hands. "See what happens in the next few hours, or days, and seize any moment that may remedy our situation."
Hoshi nodded once. "All right then. That's what we'll do."
Malcolm quirked an amused eyebrow at her. "Yes sir, Captain sir." His eyes twinkled.
Hoshi blushed. "Well... You know what I mean. What other options do we have?"
Sighing heavily, Malcolm leaned back in his chair. "None," he murmured, staring through the window at the summer sky. Not one cloud scudded across the brilliant blue. They had all come to rest on Malcolm's brow.
Uneasy silence fell.
Hoshi watched Reed quietly for a moment. The blue of his clothes and the sky made his sharp eyes seem to glow, like matched sapphires. Lines of worry and frustration marked the corners of his mouth and wrinkled the skin around his eyes. Were she closer, she would have heard his teeth grinding together. Gone was the confident armory officer who had interrupted her meditation earlier that day. He had been replaced with a tense, worried man; still brave to a fault and full of pride, but wary. Considering. Conflicted.
"Malcolm, you didn't cause this," Hoshi suddenly heard herself murmur.
The tactical officer said nothing, which only convinced her of his doubt.
"Malcolm..." Standing slowly, Hoshi made her way to his chair and knelt beside it, silky skirts rustling around her legs as she did so. "No one could have known what would happen when we stepped into the obelisk." One of his hands was resting on the detailed arm of the chair, and she covered it with her own. "Honestly, I'm glad it's you here, Malcolm, and not someone else."
That got his attention. His head pivoted smoothly and he gazed down at her with distant blue eyes. "Why?"
Hoshi smiled faintly. "Because you always stay cool in a crisis," she murmured, massaging his hand soothingly. "Because I know we work well together. Because I know we'll be able to think of a way out of here." A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "And because you're British. Helps us blend with the locals."
That made him smile, and even laugh a little. "Hoshi..." He trailed off, reaching out idly to push a lock of hair back from her eyes. "Thank God you're here, too."
"Why?"
"Because if I'd had to pretend Trip was my queen, I think I might have thrown myself out a window."
They both laughed at that. Hard.
"Feeling better now?" Hoshi asked, after they'd recovered themselves a bit.
Malcolm nodded, smiling at her. "Much, m'Lady. Much."
Hoshi grinned and stood up. "Then would my Lord care to join his queen for supper in the Banquet Hall?" she asked, offering him her hand and affecting her best British accent.
Malcolm accepted her hand and stood as well. "The king would be honored to accept the invitation of his dear queen," he replied, bowing deeply. Warm, soft lips brushed over her knuckles before he straightened again.
Hoshi smiled softly and kept her fingers laced with his. "Lead on, my Lord."
They walked together to the door of the tower bedroom, and Malcolm swung it open on mighty creaking hinges. "After you, fair Guinevere," he said elegantly, gesturing for her to exit first.
Hoshi laughed softly. "You can still call me Hoshi when we're alone, Malcolm," she reminded him.
Malcolm grinned as they stepped out of the room. "I know. I couldn't resist. It's the dress."
***********
Supper, it turned out, was a never ending affair. The calf wasn't just fatted in Camelot - it was stuffed and bloated and bursting with meat and blubber. It seemed to Hoshi they were eating for HOURS. Eating and drinking. Drinking and eating. Every time her cup reached the halfway point, it was refilled. When her trencher wasn't overflowing with beef and potatoes and carrots, it was tipping over with fish and fresh greens and bread. Lots and LOTS of bread.
Which was how she found herself hours later, staggering with a very drunk Malcolm up steep, winding stairs towards the tower bedroom. The firey orange light of sunset painted patterns on the stone walls through arrow slits set every few meters up the staircase. Her own stomach was bursting - she was certain she'd popped a few stitches in the Button Dress. But Malcolm was far worse off than she.
"Whaaaaat d'you do wif a drunken shaaaaaailor!" he sang off-key. Very, very off-key. "Whaaaat d'you do wif a drunken shaaaaailor! Whaaaaaat d'you do wif a drunken shaaaaaailor! Early in the mooorrrrrrniiiiiin'!"
Hoshi winced, leaning her head as far to the side as she could to avoid his rank breath and piercing voice. "No more grog for you, sailor boy," she said firmly as they reached the door. Pushing it open with her foot, she guided him over to the bed and gave him a little push to send him tumbling amongst the bedclothes.
Malcolm moaned happily and curled up, bunching the rich, textured blankets in his hands and hugging them under his chin like a small child would a teddy bear. "Grog's good," he mumbled, burying his nose in the sheets and yawning broadly.
Hoshi rolled her eyes. "Next time, try not to get in a drinking contest with Gawain, okay? Remember, you're not a legendary king who's used to feasting and carousing and whooping it up. You're an anal armory officer on a Starfleet flagship. And a skinny one at that."
He muttered something into the blankets, but nothing she could understand.
"Get undressed, my liege," she ordered firmly, crossing her arms over her stomach. "Time for bed."
"No," he said petulantly. "Comf'ble."
"Yeah, well, if you think you're sleeping like that, you've got another think coming." Moving forward, Hoshi began unbuckling his belt, which had gone askew sometime during the feasting. "I'm too tired to try and find my own room in this castle, so we're bunking, Lieutenant. You smell like roast boar. If I sleep next to that smell, I'm going to dream I'm being turned on a spit over a fire, with an apple shoved in my mouth."
Malcolm snickered but didn't fight as she tugged him into a sitting position and wrangled the tunic off over his head. Hoshi tossed it onto the chair beside the window, where it was quickly joined by the belt and his fine linen shirt. "Back," she ordered, nudging him onto his back on the bed. She refused to let her eyes wander over his bare chest. Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of the alcohol that still lingered on his skin. "You need a bath."
"Bath smath," he muttered, staring at the bed's canopy.
"You wouldn't say that if you were me," she mumbled, tugging his boots off and setting them neatly beside the night table on her side of the bed. A silver basin holding a silver pitcher was set atop the table, and easily caught her eye. Peering into the pitcher, she saw the tell-tale wink of firelight reflecting off water. "It's good to be queen," she said with a smile, pouring some of the water into the basin.
"Wha'sha doin'?"
"I told you, you need a bath." Going to the chest of drawers beside the door - the one topped by the candelabra - she fished around until she found some dainty lace handkerchiefs. Not exactly washcloths, but there seemed to be plenty to spare.
"Don' need a bath."
"Oh yes you do. Sit up." She walked back to the bed and sat beside him as he dragged himself into an upright position. Daintily dipping one handkerchief into the basin, she began to rub the moist cloth over his bare back. One of the servants had already been along to start the fire, and it cast flickering autumn-colored patterns over his damp shoulders.
Malcolm shivered. "Tha's cold," he complained.
"Shh, let me work." Hoshi redipped the cloth and brought it back to rub his arm. Even relaxed, his bicep was something worthy of notice. //He could crack walnuts with that arm.//
That was not a line of thought she wanted to follow. Shaking herself to clear her head, she smiled. "It's not so bad here," she said cheerfully, rubbing the wet handkerchief over his chest. "It's not everyday a girl gets to play queen and really BE queen. "
"Mm."
"And the countryside is beautiful. Don't you think?"
"Mm."
"It's almost like being on an unwelcome, yet somehow welcoming, vacation."
"Hm."
Hoshi rolled her eyes. //No lambs for the snakes…. No lambs for the bloody snakes.// "Malcolm, are you even listening to me? Malcolm? Lieutenant Reed?"
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…
If the situation hadn't been so embarrassing, she'd have laughed. As it was, she didn't know if she should be humiliated, infuriated, or depressed. It wasn't often a man fell asleep while she was giving him a sponge bath. Not often at all. In fact, she was quite certain this was the first time.
Muttering about men and their baser impulses, she manhandled him into a more comfortable position on the bed, well off to the side, so that she'd have plenty of room for herself. She didn't bother to tuck him under the covers, but she took enough pity to cover him with one of the spare blankets folded over the foot of the bed. Grumbling, she stood and moved off a few steps to undress.
It was remarkably easier to get OUT of the dress than it had been to get into it. Buttons that hadn't wanted to fasten that morning were more than happy to spring open under her nimble fingers. Hooks easily slid out of their respective eyes. Laces fell open with remarkable simplicity. When she finally shrugged out of the silky material, Hoshi couldn't resist a deep sigh of relief. God, it felt good to breathe freely again. For a few minutes, she just stood still, reveling in the sensation of her ribs swelling, then compressing, with each passing breath.
She shivered as a bit of the castle's chill seeped through her thin cotton shift. So she turned to face the fire.
And froze.
He was watching her.
"Malcolm," she said, hoping her voice wasn't actually as squeaky as it sounded in her ears. "I thought you were sleeping."
"I was," he murmured, not looking away.
Hoshi crossed her arms over her stomach self-consciously. "Have a nice nap then?" she teased, but the words felt empty.
Malcolm must have sensed it too, because he ignored her. "Are you coming to bed?"
Hoshi swallowed. He didn't sound very drunk as he said that. In fact, he sounded perfectly sober, if a little hypnotized. "I thought I might stay up a bit. Try to solve this problem of ours."
A shadow passed over Malcolm's face. "You cannot solve it alone," he murmured. "It is equally my burden to bear."
Hoshi frowned at him. "I think you've been playing king too long, Malcolm. You're starting to talk like one now. Unless that's how you get when you're sobering up."
She watched as he pushed himself smoothly into a sitting position, resting against the headboard and staring at her. "Come to bed," he said softly. "Please, dearest."
Hoshi's frown deepened. "Dear… What's wrong, Malcolm?"
"Must you call me by that name?"
Now Hoshi was really starting to worry. "What other name would I call you?" she asked warily.
"Anything but that. Anything but the name of the lover you wish I was. Though I would be partial to Arthur."
It was all Hoshi could do to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. "Ar… What!"
Malcolm sighed and looked away, staring past her out the window. "Do you hate me so?" he asked softly. "So that you would not even use my name? Is my…. failure so complete?"
The world was spinning. Hoshi stared at the man in bed before her. Indeed, his posture had changed. Even reclined as he was, there was a regal air about his pose. His chin was just slightly higher; his back minutely straighter; shoulders level and unstooped.
Sitting there, rumpled and lined with weariness, was King Arthur. And Malcolm was nowhere in sight.
It wasn't until she bumped against the chair that Hoshi realized she'd been backing away from him. She didn't understand what was going on, but she wasn't about to get any closer to him until she did. "Mal… Arthur." She swallowed.
"Please, love. My life. Come to bed." He stretched out a hand toward her, and even the way he did that was laced with majesty. Tender blue eyes shone in the firelight. "I will not…" Lashes fluttered as he sighed and closed his eyes, letting his hand drop.
"We will not…try tonight," he murmured. "I will not touch you, if you do not wish it."
Hoshi squinted at him, leaning ever so slightly forward as she stared. All his poise was quickly draining away, until all she saw was a tired man wrapped in a blanket. "Arthur…," she murmured, and took a step towards the bed.
Malcolm's head swung up, and he looked at her wearily. "Hoshi?" he mumbled, slurring a little. "'Sthat you?"
Hoshi frowned, confused. "M… Is that you, Malcolm?"
He hiccupped.
Yep, definitely him.
"'Scold," he muttered, shivering a little. "Aren' you cold, too?" HIC! "Where'sh yer dress?"
Wrapping her arms around herself again, Hoshi quickly trotted to the bed and clambered under the covers. "Never you mind where my dress is," she told him firmly, pulling the blankets up tightly under her chin and keeping her elbows tucked in close to her body as she pressed herself back into the pillows. "Go to sleep. I'm not looking forward to seeing you with a hangover, but tired and hungover is even less appealing."
He muttered a few half-hearted complaints, but settled himself down amongst the pillows, wrapping his blanket tightly around himself. Belatedly, Hoshi realized that she had set him up on the side of the bed closest to the fire. His body was doing a fabulous job of blocking any and all heat the cheerful flames were throwing into the room.
Watching the blanket-wrapped bundle that was his body, Hoshi edged a little closer, hoping to sap away some of his body heat. When he didn't respond, she slid a little closer. Then a little more. Then more still.
"Yer gonna push me off," he mumbled sleepily, curling up tighter.
She froze. "Sorry," she whispered.
"'Sokay, Gwen."
"Hoshi."
"'Swhat I meant. Hoshi. 'Swhat I meant, Gwen."
She didn't bother to correct him this time.
TBC…