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Enterprise was cruising at warp 3.5 on her way back from the rendezvous with the Denobulan ship.

"How long before we are in range to contact the away party, Ensign?" T'Pol asked Hoshi, turning slightly in the captain's chair.

"Approximately six hours, Subcommander," Hoshi replied. She busied herself with the keys of her console while surreptitiously studying her Vulcan superior. After more than three years she could tell when something was bothering Enterprise's impassive "first lady". Besides, as communications officer she was trained to read even the smallest of nuances on somebody's face. Something was definitely on T'Pol's mind.

"I hope the Captain is making the best of his shore leave," she said, trying to elicit some reaction that would tell her something more. A reply came, but from across the bridge, from the engineering station.

"He probably is, but I bet Malcolm will need a week to recover from it," Trip said with a chortle. "Oh, don't get me wrong," he hastened to add, noticing Hoshi's reproachful expression. "It's just that Malcolm is a bit stiff around the Capt'n. I just hope he doesn't have to put up with too much water polo talk," he concluded with a grin. "He'd never dare tell the Capt'n that he doesn't care at all about it."

"I believe your assessment of Lieutenant Reed to be… incorrect, Commander," T'Pol calmly replied. "The Lieutenant may not be as forthcoming as you are, but I am confident that he would have no difficulty expressing his thoughts to the Captain," she said with an almost imperceptible tilting of the head.

Hoshi saw Trip lean back in his chair in surprise. "Uhm, I never meant to criticise our armoury officer, T'Pol. Malcolm is a good friend, you know that."

"I never said that, Commander," T'Pol replied levelly.

Tucker crossed his arms on his chest and raised his eyebrows, casting a glance across the bridge at Hoshi. The Ensign acknowledged it with a small smile that disappeared instantly when she saw T'Pol turn to her again.

"Please let me know when we are in range, Ensign," she said quietly. She would never admit it to anyone, it was totally illogical, but she had a… well, a feeling that something was wrong with the away team.

Hoshi nodded in agreement.

Archer peeked out of the tent and saw Reed sitting crossed legged, wrapped in two thermal blankets, his chin on his chest and his eyes closed. Sometime during the night Porthos had slipped out and now lay cuddled up in the convenient cradling space that the lieutenant's legs were forming, and Archer couldn't help but feel amused at the odd sight. He painfully stepped out of the tent and the beagle immediately jumped up and ran to him, startling Reed out of his light sleep. The lieutenant's eyes flew open and a groan escaped form his throat as he brought a hand to his neck, wincing.

"Not the most comfortable way to sleep, I imagine," Archer commented dryly, cradling his wounded arm and taking a few limping steps.

"Captain…" Reed rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. O-seven-ten… a full hour of sleep; well, better than nothing. "I must have drifted off," he said, massaging his stiff neck. "Didn't mean to."

Archer staggered forward a few more steps and crouched awkwardly down to pet Porthos, his brow knitted in pain. "You are entitled to sleep, Lieutenant," he grunted. "You should have woken me up and let me take over."

"You were… not yourself… in need of rest, Captain," Reed replied, realising with a twinge of worry that Archer could remember nothing of their night conversation. "And I wanted to keep an eye on our surroundings," he added with a wary glance at the still-standing cones. "I got some rest anyway."

"Lots of it, I'm sure," Archer said, shooting him a reproachful look.

Reed stood up and stretched, surreptitiously studying the Captain. His face looked drawn but his eyes appeared clear. At least for the moment, Malcolm thought wryly. "How are you feeling, Sir?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh, wonderful. My head hurts like hell. My whole arm is sore and so is my leg," Archer replied with a grimace.

Reed silently went to get the med kit and proceeded to check Archer's biosigns with the scanner. "You have a fever, Sir" he said quietly. "Let me give you some painkiller and medicate your wounds," he added.

Archer's injured arm and leg had swollen considerably and the skin was tender to the touch. "I'm not sure you ought to walk on that leg, Captain," Reed said, shaking his head.

"I'll be ok, Lieutenant," Archer replied in his command voice. "It's sore but I'll manage, don't worry. Besides, the only place where a shuttle can land is the clearing where we are to be picked up, so I really have no choice."

Three hours later they were trudging through the forest and Reed was getting quite concerned. He had spotted more of those bloody flower-cones, in among the trees. They didn't seem dangerous if they kept their distance, but he could swear they hadn't been there on their way in. As a security officer he was trained to notice things, and those plants, or whatever they were, were difficult to miss. To add to his worries, Archer was not well. Unusually silent, he had been limping more and more heavily, although he had stubbornly kept going. After the third time he had very nearly stumbled to the ground, Malcolm had silently swung the Captain's good arm across his shoulders and got a grip of his waist. Archer hadn't complained, and Malcolm's worry had gone up a few notches. Now the Captain's breathing was laboured and Reed found that he had to support quite a lot of his weight.

After one more hour Malcolm was ready to take a rest. The virtually sleepless night and tension were beginning to take their toll. He called back Porthos, who was trotting just ahead, and helped Archer unload his backpack and sit down with his back against a tree. Out of breath, he unloaded his own more heavily-laden pack and wiped an arm across his sweaty brow as he glanced in concern at his CO. The Captain had his eyes closed and his face was flushed, and Malcolm felt the knot in the pit of his stomach tighten. The medical scanner confirmed what he already knew, that the fever was up again, quite a bit higher. He took out the communicator and tried to hail Enterprise. No luck. Bloody hell, he silently cursed, they should be more or less in range by now. I only hope they are not being delayed.

"We are dropping to impulse," Mayweather said with a frown, looking at his instruments.

T'Pol raised her eyebrows and accessed the comm. link on the captain's chair. "T'Pol to engineering," she said.

"Tucker," a familiar voice answered.

"Please report, Commander."

"We are having some problems with the warp engine," Trip explained, without going into detail. "I'm afraid we'll have to crawl for a little while."

"For how long?" the Subcommander calmly enquired.

"Ah, that I won't know for sure until I have a better look, T'Pol," Trip replied. "I'll let ya know. Tucker out."

Had she been human T'Pol would have sighed in frustration. But she could not allow emotions to unsettle her. So she just closed the comm. link and stared ahead for a few moments, before rising from the captain's chair. "I'll be in the ready room, should you need me, Ensign" she said to Hoshi. "The bridge is yours."

Two hours later the door bell chimed. "Come," T'Pol called. Tucker marched in looking unkempt. Not that it seemed to bother him. He stopped in front of the desk and looked T'Pol straight in the eye. "I won't be able to give you warp speed for another few hours. I'd say five at most. Sorry," he said looking apologetic enough.

"What is the problem, Commander?" T'Pol asked seemingly unperturbed.

"Some of the upgrades I've been working on. I'll have to re-calibrate a few things," Trip answered, passing a hand through his already dishevelled hair. "Look, I'm real sorry, T'Pol, but as you know a warp engine is a delicate machine and things happen sometimes," he said, sensing unease behind the Vulcan's virtually unchangeable facial expression.

"Please inform me as soon as we can go back to warp, Commander," T'Pol just answered.

"Sure," Trip agreed. Then he tilted his head and studied the Vulcan lady with narrowed eyes. "What's wrong?" he finally asked.

"The warp engine is not online," she answered levelly, raising her eyebrows.

"I know that. I mean, what's getting you so upset?" Trip insisted.

"I am not upset," T'Pol replied.

"You're worried about the Capt'n and Malcolm," Trip stated, checking for a reaction that would confirm his suspicion.

None came. T'Pol looked as composed as ever as she replied, "I am not worried."

"We'll be a bit late pickin' them up, but they'll be fine," Trip said, following his own train of thought. "I'm only sorry we aren't in range yet to hail them. They're gonna be wonderin' what went wrong."

"Commander, perhaps you could return to engineering and see to the problem?" T'Pol said, disguising her order as a polite suggestion. "The sooner it is fixed, the sooner we can reach the planet."

"Yes ma'am," Trip replied with a grin, secretly satisfied that he had tricked T'Pol into admitting what was on her mind. "Your logic is impeccable, Subcommander."

"I should have listened to my instincts," Reed murmured glumly to himself as he carefully checked their immediate surroundings. "I had a strange feeling about those cones the moment I saw them."

Archer cracked his eyes open. "You couldn't have anticipated that some innocent flowers would attack me," he said with a soft snort.

Reed cringed at the word that had triggered Archer's previous outburst. "If truth be told," he said, studying the Captain closely, "I had never encountered belligerent plants before. I suppose I'll have to add them to my list of potential enemies."

"Potential enemies," Archer scoffed. "You never know who may turn out to be your potential enemy. I bet those Illyrians never thought we were a potential enemy."

Malcolm slumped down near the captain and closed his eyes, feeling dizzy with exhaustion. "No, I suppose they didn't," he said frostily.

He didn't like – didn't want – to revive that particular memory, least of all now, when he needed to keep cool. To think back on the time when they had stolen a warp coil like common thieves from innocent aliens whose only crime had been to have stumbled upon them was not the best way to keep in control. He had obeyed orders, naturally, but that particular time he felt obeying orders had been a weakness rather than a strength. He had put his military training before his very ethics. He had given in to the evil of the circumstances. Sure, there was Earth to be saved, but to this day he felt shame and pain at the thought of having helped carry out such a disgraceful action; as well as a deep-set anger, directed at himself but also and especially at the man who had ordered them all to behave like bloody pirates.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden growl. "We needed that warp coil!" Archer sounded like a wounded animal.

"That was no excuse for acting like damn criminals!" Reed snapped furiously. He hadn't meant to react violently, but he was too tired and his feelings on the matter were too raw and irrational, so his control slipped. And of course it helped that Archer was quite clearly out of it again.

Porthos barked in response to their angry tones and climbed on his master's lap to give and get some comfort, but the Captain ignored him.

"We needed that warp coil," Archer repeated in a dark and more restrained voice. "Earth would probably no longer exist if we hadn't gotten our hands on it."

"We may have condemned those Illyrians to death. We had no bloody right," Reed countered much in the same tone, closing his eyes tightly as if that alone could erase the unwanted memory.

"We saved Earth," Archer ground out, and Reed bit his lip.

"And I lost myself."

Something in the Captain's voice made Malcolm open his eyes and turn to look at him. He was startled to see the devastated expression on his face.

Their mission in the Expanse had brought out both the best and the worst in them; there had been too much at stake, Reed understood that. But deep down he still resented the ruthless captain that Archer had often appeared to be then, showing none of the compassion that Malcolm thought had been one of the finest qualities of the Archer of their exploring years. He was the man in command, damn! The man who had to set the example; and during the past year that man hadn't looked as though he had struggled much with his conscience when he had taken some of his debatable decisions. The guilt and sorrow, the torment that now, finally, showed on Archer's face washed over Reed like a wave of redemption. He only wished he could have caught a glimpse of those feelings in the Expanse, behind that impassable mask that Archer had worn to hide them.

"Captain…" he started hesitantly. He opened his mouth to say more, but the jumble of emotions was just too much and choked him. He passed a hand in his hair, trying to collect his thoughts, aware that Archer was feverish and raving, and that any word, even the most heart-felt, would just float away unheard in this alien planet's breeze.

"I guess that to save humanity I couldn't hold on to my own humanity," Archer said painfully, following with his eyes Porthos who, tired of being ignored, was trotting away.

Which of us truthfully did? Reed silently wondered with a sudden twinge of guilt. He hugged himself tightly. He needed to voice his feelings and the fact that Archer may not remember a word he said allowed him a freedom he wouldn't otherwise have felt.

"I wish you had shown some… flickering of doubt," he said, swallowing hard. "It looked as if you didn't care, as if there was never any uncertainty in your mind, when you..." He lowered his gaze.

"I had to lose my humanity. Or I wouldn't have been able to carry out my mission. I had to show inflexibility, even to myself. Or I would have crumbled," Archer rasped.

And then Reed understood. Archer had been like… like a broken limb, needing a rigid, unbending cast to keep it in one piece. That's what the mask had been; that's what it had hidden: just how broken Archer had been. The realisation filled him with a warm feeling of empathy.

"It would have been good to know that the Jonathan Archer I had come to respect still existed, under that callous exterior," he murmured.

But the Captain was oblivious, his face pale and sweaty, and his breathing fast. After a few minutes of silence Reed heaved a deep sigh and scrambled to his feet. He was dog-tired and emotionally drained, and if he sat there another moment he'd no doubt find it impossible to get up again. They needed to keep moving.

Suddenly he heard Porthos bark. The dog had wandered off and Malcolm's muscles tensed. All senses on the alert, he looked for the beagle and walked up to him, phase pistol drawn. "What is it, Porthos?" he murmured, crouching near him and scrutinising their surroundings. The dog seemed agitated. "Sit!" Reed stood up and took a few more steps forward, taking out his scanner and moving it around in a circle.

Rattle. The sound had hardly reached his ears that he dived desperately to one side, rolling into a shooting position as soon as he touched the ground. Swish. The thorns narrowly missed him and drove themselves into the undergrowth. And then he saw the damn cones, half-hidden among the trees: there were four, in a semicircle. With true aim, Reed lost no time in taking them down.

"Good boy, it's ok." Porthos had come up to his side and was barking furiously, and Malcolm patted him reassuringly, out of breath from the sudden rush of adrenaline. His heartbeat was just beginning to slow down a little when a shadow came into his peripheral vision. In one swift move he turned on his knees, right arm outstretched to face the new danger. He found his pistol trained squarely on Archer, who was staggering towards them. Reed's arm trembled slightly as he lowered the weapon, and he briefly closed his eyes grateful that, in spite of his exhaustion and the emotional roller-coaster, he was still in control of his actions. He stood up just in time to catch the Captain before he collapsed.

TBC