A/N: Hello! I've written a ficlet! I don't believe it!
Spoilers for Affliction. Archer's thoughts as he watches Malcolm in the brig. Sort of inspired by the bit in the ready room where Archer grabs Malcolm and says "Not you, Malcolm." How does Archer feel to be betrayed by the least likely person onboard his ship?
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with this story. Unless you count a load of home-taped Enterprise episodes, that is...
Watching and Waiting
Jonathan Archer watched, his face an expressionless mask, as the man who he had until recently counted as one of the most honourable he had ever known paced the brig.
What is so awful that you can't tell me, Malcolm? What is it that you can't trust me with?
Archer's thoughts ran round in circles as he watched his tactical officer pace from one end of the brig to the other like a confined animal. But then he realised that the man in the brig was not his tactical officer – the man who paced the brig was not the Malcolm Reed Archer knew.
Aquaphobia, Malcolm? Remember telling me that secret, your greatest fear, your greatest humiliation? You trusted me then.
Archer watched as the impostor paced the brig, his face a blank mask.
Is that all the man I knew was? Archer wondered. A mask?
The impostor paced, still not seeing him. The Klingon, though – the Klingon who looked so human – had noticed him, though – he held Archer's gaze furiously, before breaking it with a single glance of disgust towards the impostor in the brig beside him. He mouthed a single, vile word:
"Traitor." Archer closed his eyes, swallowing slightly. When he opened his eyes there the traitor was, still pacing the brig. A traitor wearing a Starfleet uniform.
What other uniform do you wear, Malcolm, beneath that one? What is it that would make a man like you betray everything he believes in?
The traitor paced the brig, a kaleidoscope of emotions crossing his face. He still hadn't seen Archer, but was mouthing something, mouthing words to himself, his mouth a slash of despair.
"What would my father say?" The son of Stuart Reed mouthed.
The son of Stuart Reed paced the brig before his eyes, his shoulders stooping, defiance gone from the lines of his face. Lines that Archer was sure as hell hadn't been there a week or so ago.
Not you, Malcolm. I could've dealt with a crewman gone astray. If T'Pol had been the one to betray her friends so coolly I wouldn't have been surprised, not if logic had been behind it. But you, Malcolm? You're human, and more than that, you're you. The stiff-upper-lip Lieutenant who would rather die than sacrifice a single scrap of Enterprise's hull. A hero, Malcolm, you here me? And heroes don't go around betraying all that they stand for. Superman never rebelled or turned on Louis Lane, Sherlock Holmes never had an off day or turned into a criminal. So why you, Malcolm?
The son of Stuart Reed paced the brig, a thousand things going through his mind, as the silent gavel of the court-martial loomed ever nearer in his thoughts. Archer watched him, watched him as whatever scrap of youth may have been left in Stuart Reed's boy promptly grew up or fled away.
Maybe it's because you're real, Malcolm. And real heroes make mistakes, but they can make up for them. Humans can make up for their mistakes; you can – if you just tell me!
The man who was human paced the brig, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. And Archer watched him, wondering how it had come to this, wondering what Trip would say, wondering if he would be able to bring himself to give evidence at the court-martial of that man who was human.
But then that man turned, and saw Archer watching, and a completely different expression crossed his face.
Malcolm Stuart Reed paced the brig.
And that was the hardest thing of all.
888
A/N: Hey, it was just an idea! Please tell me what you think! (I can't wait to see the next episode!)