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The sun was just about setting and it had gone quite cold. Reed glanced at Archer; he was shivering slightly. "I'll get you a thermal blanket while I finish with the tent, Captain," he said. "The temperature is dropping fast."

Archer nodded. As Reed was walking away he said, "Thank you for keeping Porthos out of harm's way, Malcolm."

The lieutenant stopped in his tracks and turned. "He knows how to obey an order, Sir. Most of the time that's a good thing," he commented in a low, enigmatic voice. He walked away before the Captain could ask what he meant.

After bringing back the blanket, Reed scrutinised their surroundings. Quite a few of those creepy flowers were still standing, but they didn't seem to pose any threat from a distance. He found a spot that was protected by some thick bushes and a little later the tent was up.

"I got your sleeping bag out, Sir. It's inside the tent," he said, approaching the Captain who was scratching Porthos distractedly behind the ears. "It's important that you keep warm."

"Warm… It was goddamned warm when the weapon exploded," Archer murmured petting the beagle, which appeared to be almost asleep.

Reed frowned, unsure he had understood. "Sir?" he enquired hesitantly.

"The explosion, I felt it on my back." Archer gave a soft snort, and instantly Reed realised he was talking about the Xindi weapon. "It was just for a fraction of a second, before Daniels pulled me out. But I'll never forget that monstrous wave of heat, and the feeling of… void. Of helplessness," he said flatly, raising his eyes to the lieutenant.

Reed was riveted to the ground, numb with more than cold. He met the Captain's gaze with unease, but in the fading light he could not read Archer's expression. "It should have been me, Sir," he commented in a low voice.

He should have been the one who blew up the weapon. Instead, he was the one who had to go back to the ship and tell everyone that Archer had died doing his job. He was angry and frustrated, and perhaps even a bit sad that Archer had taken that job on himself as if his Armoury Officer couldn't be trusted to…

Malcolm shook his head, trying to derail that train of thought. "You should have let me do it. That was a job for your Armoury Officer," he simply said, his voice quiet but firm.

Archer burst out laughing, startling Malcolm and making Porthos's head jerk up. "My Armoury Officer had no armour," he said with contorted humour, and in the silence his voice sounded quite loud. "No armour and no army." Reed felt a stabbing pain through the surprise caused by the Captain's strange mood. "Only arms. And heart," Archer continued, sombre again. "But I would not condemn them to annihilation."

Malcolm frowned. "I was prepared to die to fulfil our mission, Sir," he said darkly. I wasn't prepared to let my Captain blow himself up doing my bloody job, he surprised himself thinking.

Archer just giggled and a suspicion crept into Reed's mind. Hesitantly, he knelt down. Something was wrong with the man and Malcolm's muscles tensed as he noticed his dilated pupils.

"Captain," he said in concern, holding out an arm to help him up. "You had better get some rest."

"Yes, good thinking," was the mumbled reply. "Rest."

Archer groaned in pain as he put weight on his injured leg. Malcolm saw him sway and grabbed him awkwardly to allow him to regain his balance. With some difficulty he got him into the tent and his sleeping bag. Porthos curled up beside his master and in no time they were both asleep.

Reed got out a medical scanner and checked Archer over. He could not tell what kind of substance, of poison those thorns had released into his bloodstream, but it was quite obvious that it was making the man confused. He glanced briefly at Archer's sleeping form. Then, with a sigh, he got a couple of thermal blankets for himself. With Enterprise away and the Captain injured, he could not risk any other unwanted surprises, so he sat outside to keep watch, his mind going back to a conversation he had had the night before…

… "So, Lieutenant. I hear that while I'll be workin' my butt off with countless upgrades you're gonna be takin' a holiday," Trip said, faking an annoyed look at Malcolm as he accepted a beer from the lieutenant.

"You're welcome to go in my place, Commander," Malcolm replied shooting back his own version of an annoyed look, this one perfectly sincere.

Trip had appeared at Malcolm's door that night, claiming he was there for a friendly evening chat. He now sat down in Malcolm's chair and leaned back, stretching his legs forward. "Don't say it twice," Trip warned. "I could use a couple of days' rest."

Reed sat heavily on his bed, sighing. "Right. But I wouldn't call two days of trudging through a forest on an alien planet a rest."

"Aw, come on, Malcolm, you've gotta be kiddin'! Takin' a hike with a fellow scout, breathin' real air for a change: don't tell me you're not lookin' forward to that," Trip said with a snort of disbelief.

Malcolm took a swig of his beer and then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, letting the bottle dangle in front of him. "Yes to the 'breathing-real-air' part. No to the 'hike-with-fellow-scout' part, if you don't mind."

Trip eyed him reproachfully, and Malcolm realised his friend probably thought he had his usual qualms regarding security issues. He was proven right by Trip's next words. "From what I've heard the Capt'n has even agreed to let you take phase pistols along. So stop bein' your paranoid self, and enjoy your leave," he said.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not what's bothering me," Malcolm replied dryly, immediately regretting the admission. At Trip's puzzled expression he added with a smirk, "It's just that… spending two days alone with the Captain is not exactly my idea of R&R."

Trip chuckled. "I know you'd prefer goin' to nightclubs with yours truly," he said with a wink. At Reed's stubborn silence he shook his head. "Ah, why is it that you can't relax around the Capt'n, Malcolm?" he asked. "After all we've been through together I would've thought you had learned."

Malcolm pursed his lips and stared at the floor. It's what we've been through together that has made me even more tense around him, he mulled. But he knew Trip and Archer were good friends and he didn't want to hurt Trip's feelings by sharing some of his misgivings. So he just shrugged and answered, "He is the Captain," as if that explained everything.

But Trip, apparently, was not going to be fooled. "What else?" he asked matter-of-factly. "I can tell there's more."

"Nothing." Reed made a point of avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know that I am not comfortable fraternising with superior officers."

"That's bull. What about me, then?" the engineer replied, and although he was not looking, Malcolm could tell the words were accompanied by a disarming smile.

He sighed. It was not easy to put Trip on the wrong track. Looking up at the man who had been persistent enough to conquer his friendship he said, faking playfulness he didn't feel, "With you it's different, you're only a Commander. And it took me a while anyway."

There was a moment of silence, after which Tucker said squarely, "You didn't like some of the things he did in the Expanse, did you."

Malcolm felt Trip's gaze bare his very soul and knew there was no point in lying. "No, I didn't," he replied truthfully after a pause.

"Those were abnormal circumstances, Malcolm," Trip commented darkly. "Things got ugly. Critical situations call for drastic measures."

Reed leaned back, resting against the headboard and regarding his friend with narrowed eyes. "I know that. On a rational level I do. But I can't help how I feel. Something broke inside, and I still haven't found… the right glue to fix it," he said sombrely.

Trip turned very serious. "He's a good captain."

"Why do you think I feel the way I do?" Reed grumbled. "He earned my respect and…" he faltered.

"And…?"

"Look, it's something I'll have to work out on my own. It's just me, I suppose. Nobody else seems to have any problems," Malcolm said with a hint of irritation.

Trip ignored the clue. "It's not healthy to hold grudges. You oughtta talk to him," he admonished.

"You know I'd never do that," Malcolm replied with a soft snort.

The silence was growing heavy, so after a while Trip gave a good-natured slap on his friend's knee and asked, raising his empty bottle "Hey, is this all the beer you're gonna offer me?"

Malcolm allowed his face to relax in a small smile and got up to get another couple of bottles, tossing one to Trip. "Here is to a shore leave with nightclubs and beautiful aliens," he toasted, raising his bottle.

"Beautiful female aliens," Trip replied with a laugh.

"Malcolm?" Archer called.

"I'm here, Captain," Reed replied, taking a few strides towards the tent. He'd been standing watch outside for almost five hours. Despite the thermal blankets he'd found that it was too cold to be sitting still, so he had taken to pacing in the hope of getting some blood circulation back into his stiff body.

He bent down and peeked into the tent, careful to keep his torch away from the Captain's eyes. Archer was sitting, holding his head. "How are you feeling, Sir?" Reed asked as he stretched an arm inside the tent and held the medical scanner in front of the Captain's chest. He glanced at the readings: the man had developed a slight fever but his biosigns were still strong.

Archer grunted. "Sore all over, and my head is throbbing."

At least he definitely sounded more like himself again. Malcolm felt a little relieved at the notion and bit his tongue just in time before it blurted out the 'oh, good' that had darted across his mind: if he hadn't looked forward to being alone on a planet with his captain, being alone on a planet with him wounded had him worried, and being alone on a planet with the man wounded and raving was something he would rather not dwell upon.

"Let me get you some painkiller, Sir" he said, and reached for the med kit.

"What time is it?" Archer enquired tiredly, accepting the medicine from Reed.

"Almost o-three-hundred hours," Malcolm replied.

Archer looked at Reed with a frown. "What were you doing out there, Lieutenant? Is there a problem?"

"No, Sir. Just making sure we have no more surprises," Reed answered.

Archer acknowledged with a nod, massaging his temples. "Why don't you get some sleep and let me take over for a few hours." It wasn't a question.

Reed sighed inwardly. He could certainly use some sleep but it was out of the question. Archer was injured and feverish, and they had a long walk ahead of them to return to the place where they would be picked up. "I'll be fine, Captain," he firmly replied.

Archer shook his head. "I should've known that was going to be the answer," he said.

"Well, if I may, Sir, you could have anticipated it," Malcolm replied with just a hint of amusement. His smirk froze on his face when he saw Archer's face turn into the cold and unforgiving mask he had seen so often in the recent past.

"Anticipate! I'm tired of having to anticipate!" the Captain snarled.

"Sir, I merely meant to say that…" Reed's voice died away as he realised the man was confused again.

"I could never anticipate enough, no matter what," Archer spat out. "How could I anticipate that Sim would die when Phlox harvested his brain tissue! Or that there may be a chance he could live a normal life span! Damn!" he cursed. "Damn!"

Porthos raised his head and whimpered, and Reed flinched. He was still kneeling outside the tent, unable to move. He was not privy to everything surrounding Sim's short existence, but what Archer had just shouted in anger confirmed a few of the rumours he had heard.

After a few moments of silence Malcolm ventured inside and crouched beside him. "You could not have anticipated it, Captain," he said quietly, wondering why he was answering the outburst of a man who was obviously not totally aware of what he was saying and to whom.

"I created a being for spare parts. Who did I think I was, God?" Archer asked bitterly.

Malcolm slowly let out the breath he was holding. The Captain's decision to create a clone, even if it was to save Trip's life, had undoubtedly disturbed him. He had debated with himself whether it was legitimate and had often wondered how much Archer's friendship with the Chief Engineer had influenced it.

Before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth. "If it hadn't been Trip," he asked in a low voice, "Would you have…" the rest of the question died in his throat but the meaning was clear, although Archer took his time to reply.

"I wanted my friend back. I needed my chief engineer back. They happened to be one and the same," he said in the end, and his voice was pained. "And then things went awry. Don't they always?" he snorted. "Phlox said the enzyme that might grant Sim a normal life span had not been proven to work. I told myself it made more sense to sacrifice Sim's life rather than Trip's. As if sacrificing a life ever makes sense. As if a life is measured only in terms of its actual length."

"Sacrifice?" Reed couldn't believe his ears. "I thought Sim had gone willingly," he hissed, unable to conceal his anger. "That's what I understood."

Archer gave a soft humourless laugh. "Sure. In the end he did. He went willingly. If he hadn't though…" his voice trailed.

"If he hadn't…?" Reed pressed, even though he dreaded the answer.

Archer just looked away in defeat.

"Sim went willingly," Malcolm stated firmly after a moment of silence. He needed the reassurance much as the Captain did. "You didn't order anyone to his death," he told Archer resolutely.

"But I did in some way, by creating him… and I might have…" the Captain said hoarsely. He slowly lowered himself back down, and closed his eyes.

Reed closed his eyes too, his mind teeming with thoughts and doubts he wished he could lock away in a forgotten corner of his subconscious. After a while the sound of regular breathing told him that Archer had drifted off to sleep again, and he dared open them again. "There probably was no right decision to make," he whispered to no one.

TBC