*****
Pressing the sequence of buttons Dr. Phlox had shown him, Malcolm stood back and took a deep breath. "Personal Log," he started softly, looking around the room for some semblance of the date. He gave up and continued the start to the recovery journal Phlox had suggested, giving the canine in the corner a strange look as he snored softly in the corner of his cabin.
"It's been three days since the doctor released me from sickbay. Thankfully, I've had no repeats of violent episodes," he paused, grimacing as the thought of hurting Hoshi crossed his mind. Malcolm had seen her today as he ate breakfast with Dr. Phlox - another therapeutic tool the doctor insisted on, insisting that he begin to socialize with the crew.
Two days ago he met the chief engineer and found Commander Tucker to be very friendly and very loud. Somehow, Malcolm had resisted the urge to cover his ears when the man spoke to him. The helmsman introduced himself next, obviously curious about the newcomer, yet with enough tact not to pry. Hoshi stood behind Lieutenant Mayweather, stifling a yawn.
"Maybe she still isn't sleeping well," he thought out loud and paced the length of his cabin not really paying attention that his spoken words were being recorded. He puzzled as to why his thoughts always meandered to her. Malcolm couldn't figure out why she seemed so dangerously familiar to him. "Dangerous," he scoffed as his thoughts betrayed him. She didn't seem dangerous and had offered only kindness and concern for him.
"Pretty soon her insomnia will rub off on me," Malcolm muttered in frustration. Last night, he dreamt of her, an erotic dream, filled with passion and sighs. "I guess that is to be suspected seeing as I haven't had sex in eight years. at least none that I can remember."
A whimper in the corner caught his attention and he knelt next to his other therapy tool - Porthos. Malcolm pet the dog, stroking him gently to bring him from whatever bad dream the dog might be having. Captain Archer had explained to him that he would be om gamma shift for the next three months, and had asked Malcolm to take care of the dog, explaining that Porthos didn't like to sleep alone.
Shaking his head, Malcolm grinned. Phlox had let it slip that it was really Hoshi's idea for Porthos to come to stay with him. The dog licked his hand and Malcolm reciprocated with a scratch behind the canine's ears. Inquisitive brown eyes stared up at him and Porthos' tail started to wag in anticipation of a walk.
"Starfleet is adamant about not releasing my service record," he stated hopelessly knowing that Porthos couldn't understand what he was saying but that it was better to hear himself speak than endure the silence. "However, they have released the names of my family."
Porthos whined and Malcolm grabbed the leash, clicking the log off. The journal had been a bad idea and a waste of time. He didn't want to think or ponder the fact that he was alone. The names of his parents repeated in his head though no memory of them existed for him. He kept repeating the names in his head over and over again; almost afraid if he didn't he would forget again. Through it all, Malcolm couldn't help but wonder if he were truly better off now. His dreams were full of people and places when he was on the planet, including images from what he assumed was his childhood.
He looked at the picture of his father and again ran a trembling hand over the image. Instinctively, he knew the harshness he had suffered at the man's hands. He remembered that much in his dreams. The only problem was that he was his father in those dreams. The possibility he really was a monster sent a sense of dread through him, which chilled him, body and soul.
--
Stomach growling, Hoshi made her way to the gym. She wasn't going to exercise on a full stomach. It just wasn't a smart thing to do. Lunch had been sparse to the point of being almost non-existent and definitely way too long ago, in addition to that her shift had run late. T'Pol proved to be a monotonous taskmistress, accounting for every spare second of Alpha crew's shift now that Captain Archer was on Beta shift for the next few months. There was quite a difference in command styles. The go-getter in her appreciated T'Pol's efficiency, but Hoshi felt the Vulcan really needed to schedule bathroom breaks somewhere in the day.
The thought of asking the stoic Vulcan for a bathroom pass made her chuckle as she made her way to the gym. Hoshi stopped dead in her tracks at the site of Malcolm Reed jogging gingerly on a treadmill and Porthos on the treadmill next to him walking at a slower pace. She leaned against the doorframe and clasped her midsection, silent laughter wracking her small frame. Maybe it was lack of sleep or food, or maybe it was both, but the scene was hysterical. Soon she was down on her knees; tears of laughter trailing down her face.
A forceful hand patted her on the back and a wet tongue licked her arm. "Are you okay, Lieutenant?"
He could tell she was breathing as she panted heavily, so she wasn't choking.
Finally able to look up, Hoshi saw concerned brown eyes then frowning blue ones. That accompanied by the gentle hand now resting at the small of her back had a sudden sobering effect on her. "I. I'm sorry, sir." She straightened and moved away from him.
This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid - people, her in particular. Sure he didn't have exclusive rights to the gym, but he was fairly certain everybody would be at dinner about this time. Instead of walking the dog around the ship and possibly running into sympathetic or curious crewmen, Malcolm found it more relaxing to avoid them.
He hadn't spoken to her since he 'attacked' her. What could he possibly say to her? Why did it matter to him? "I'm sorry," he blurted out.
"For what?" Hoshi puzzled. Not a day had passed since he had come aboard that she didn't think of him. He still looked lost, but now there was something else about him that she couldn't quite place. He stammered an apology regarding their last encounter and didn't look at her. Instead Malcolm looked down at the dog, intently stroking the animal's fur.
She wouldn't be a very good linguist if she couldn't read people and his body language spoke volumes. Not only was he lost he was alone as well. Hoshi leaned forward and touched his bare forearm gently. "It's okay," she stated softly, as if reassuring a scared animal.
Malcolm finally looked up. She was smiling at him, the tilt of her chin self-assured and calm. Her hair was down and framed her face, the urge to touch it consuming him. He had always loved that about her - her hair. He could lose himself in it, the feel, the smell . the comfort.
His meandering thoughts cajoled his memory and Malcolm backed away from the woman in front of him quickly, biting his tongue to keep from cursing. He didn't want to feel. He wanted to go back and shook his head as if trying to wake himself from this dream. However, the dream was real. The sounds alone were worth the pain and confusion swirling around in his head.
Righting himself, Malcolm hurriedly hooked the leash onto Porthos. "I have to go."
Hoshi watched him leave, admiring the play of muscle underneath his tank top. Like it or not, he was going to have to get used to people being back in his life, especially her.
*****
Pressing the sequence of buttons Dr. Phlox had shown him, Malcolm stood back and took a deep breath. "Personal Log," he started softly, looking around the room for some semblance of the date. He gave up and continued the start to the recovery journal Phlox had suggested, giving the canine in the corner a strange look as he snored softly in the corner of his cabin.
"It's been three days since the doctor released me from sickbay. Thankfully, I've had no repeats of violent episodes," he paused, grimacing as the thought of hurting Hoshi crossed his mind. Malcolm had seen her today as he ate breakfast with Dr. Phlox - another therapeutic tool the doctor insisted on, insisting that he begin to socialize with the crew.
Two days ago he met the chief engineer and found Commander Tucker to be very friendly and very loud. Somehow, Malcolm had resisted the urge to cover his ears when the man spoke to him. The helmsman introduced himself next, obviously curious about the newcomer, yet with enough tact not to pry. Hoshi stood behind Lieutenant Mayweather, stifling a yawn.
"Maybe she still isn't sleeping well," he thought out loud and paced the length of his cabin not really paying attention that his spoken words were being recorded. He puzzled as to why his thoughts always meandered to her. Malcolm couldn't figure out why she seemed so dangerously familiar to him. "Dangerous," he scoffed as his thoughts betrayed him. She didn't seem dangerous and had offered only kindness and concern for him.
"Pretty soon her insomnia will rub off on me," Malcolm muttered in frustration. Last night, he dreamt of her, an erotic dream, filled with passion and sighs. "I guess that is to be suspected seeing as I haven't had sex in eight years. at least none that I can remember."
A whimper in the corner caught his attention and he knelt next to his other therapy tool - Porthos. Malcolm pet the dog, stroking him gently to bring him from whatever bad dream the dog might be having. Captain Archer had explained to him that he would be om gamma shift for the next three months, and had asked Malcolm to take care of the dog, explaining that Porthos didn't like to sleep alone.
Shaking his head, Malcolm grinned. Phlox had let it slip that it was really Hoshi's idea for Porthos to come to stay with him. The dog licked his hand and Malcolm reciprocated with a scratch behind the canine's ears. Inquisitive brown eyes stared up at him and Porthos' tail started to wag in anticipation of a walk.
"Starfleet is adamant about not releasing my service record," he stated hopelessly knowing that Porthos couldn't understand what he was saying but that it was better to hear himself speak than endure the silence. "However, they have released the names of my family."
Porthos whined and Malcolm grabbed the leash, clicking the log off. The journal had been a bad idea and a waste of time. He didn't want to think or ponder the fact that he was alone. The names of his parents repeated in his head though no memory of them existed for him. He kept repeating the names in his head over and over again; almost afraid if he didn't he would forget again. Through it all, Malcolm couldn't help but wonder if he were truly better off now. His dreams were full of people and places when he was on the planet, including images from what he assumed was his childhood.
He looked at the picture of his father and again ran a trembling hand over the image. Instinctively, he knew the harshness he had suffered at the man's hands. He remembered that much in his dreams. The only problem was that he was his father in those dreams. The possibility he really was a monster sent a sense of dread through him, which chilled him, body and soul.
--
Stomach growling, Hoshi made her way to the gym. She wasn't going to exercise on a full stomach. It just wasn't a smart thing to do. Lunch had been sparse to the point of being almost non-existent and definitely way too long ago, in addition to that her shift had run late. T'Pol proved to be a monotonous taskmistress, accounting for every spare second of Alpha crew's shift now that Captain Archer was on Beta shift for the next few months. There was quite a difference in command styles. The go-getter in her appreciated T'Pol's efficiency, but Hoshi felt the Vulcan really needed to schedule bathroom breaks somewhere in the day.
The thought of asking the stoic Vulcan for a bathroom pass made her chuckle as she made her way to the gym. Hoshi stopped dead in her tracks at the site of Malcolm Reed jogging gingerly on a treadmill and Porthos on the treadmill next to him walking at a slower pace. She leaned against the doorframe and clasped her midsection, silent laughter wracking her small frame. Maybe it was lack of sleep or food, or maybe it was both, but the scene was hysterical. Soon she was down on her knees; tears of laughter trailing down her face.
A forceful hand patted her on the back and a wet tongue licked her arm. "Are you okay, Lieutenant?"
He could tell she was breathing as she panted heavily, so she wasn't choking.
Finally able to look up, Hoshi saw concerned brown eyes then frowning blue ones. That accompanied by the gentle hand now resting at the small of her back had a sudden sobering effect on her. "I. I'm sorry, sir." She straightened and moved away from him.
This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid - people, her in particular. Sure he didn't have exclusive rights to the gym, but he was fairly certain everybody would be at dinner about this time. Instead of walking the dog around the ship and possibly running into sympathetic or curious crewmen, Malcolm found it more relaxing to avoid them.
He hadn't spoken to her since he 'attacked' her. What could he possibly say to her? Why did it matter to him? "I'm sorry," he blurted out.
"For what?" Hoshi puzzled. Not a day had passed since he had come aboard that she didn't think of him. He still looked lost, but now there was something else about him that she couldn't quite place. He stammered an apology regarding their last encounter and didn't look at her. Instead Malcolm looked down at the dog, intently stroking the animal's fur.
She wouldn't be a very good linguist if she couldn't read people and his body language spoke volumes. Not only was he lost he was alone as well. Hoshi leaned forward and touched his bare forearm gently. "It's okay," she stated softly, as if reassuring a scared animal.
Malcolm finally looked up. She was smiling at him, the tilt of her chin self-assured and calm. Her hair was down and framed her face, the urge to touch it consuming him. He had always loved that about her - her hair. He could lose himself in it, the feel, the smell . the comfort.
His meandering thoughts cajoled his memory and Malcolm backed away from the woman in front of him quickly, biting his tongue to keep from cursing. He didn't want to feel. He wanted to go back and shook his head as if trying to wake himself from this dream. However, the dream was real. The sounds alone were worth the pain and confusion swirling around in his head.
Righting himself, Malcolm hurriedly hooked the leash onto Porthos. "I have to go."
Hoshi watched him leave, admiring the play of muscle underneath his tank top. Like it or not, he was going to have to get used to people being back in his life, especially her.
*****