A/N: Oh dear. I appear to have become addicted to one-shots. There's something lovely and responsibility-free about them...
That said, I'm thinking about following up "Watching and Waiting" with a longer story about Malcolm and his experiences with Section 31. What do you think?
This little, ridiculous-titled ficlet, is set vaguely between "Zero Hour" and "Home". Trip and Malcolm have a little chat.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with this story! I've even eaten all my rolos!
The Last Rolo
Malcolm Reed glanced down at the proffered glass of Bourbon and was suddenly struck by the certainty that Charles Tucker would one day drive him completely round the bend.
"C'mon." Trip said, slurring slightly, and it was clear from his voice that he'd already been drinking. "Have a drink. God knows we all deserve one."
Malcolm took the glass hesitantly, before deciding, since it was twenty-three hundred hours and he was technically off-duty, that it wouldn't be so great a sin for him to indulge a little in the liquor. He raised the glass, eyeing his friend with concern.
"To what shall we drink?" He asked. Trip shrugged, raising his eyebrows.
"How 'bout the safe completion of the Xindi mission? Or the safety of Earth? Or us all surviving?" Tucker looked up, then, holding Malcolm's gaze. The tactical officer sighed.
"Not quite all."
Tucker nodded, swigging from his glass.
"But most." He said. "The cap'n's alive. Hoshi, Travis." He paused, before adding. "You."
Malcolm frowned slightly, taking a seat on Trip's bed. He took his glass up again, musing into its honey-gold depths. He looked up again.
"Should I have done?"
Trip leant back, still frowning into Reed's azure-blue eyes.
"If you're askin' me whether your life means more than those who died in the Expanse..."
"That's not what I'm asking. But I'm the tactical officer. I should have gone in their place." Reed finally took a deep, long draught from his glass. "It was my duty."
The two sat in silence for some time, before Trip broke it, a casual expression on his face.
"I'm glad ya didn't."
Reed looked up at the Commander – his friend – and smiled. Because, despite what they'd lost, the people they'd left out in the Expanse, they were alive. He and Trip had survived. And damn him if it was selfish, but... he was bloody glad they had.
"I've a better thing to toast, Charles Tucker." He said shortly, raising his glass. "To Commander Trip Tucker, the best damn engineer... and one of the finest men in the fleet."
Trip coughed, flushing in embarrassment – and pleasure.
"Hey, Loo-tenant." He drawled, as Malcolm happily poured himself a second glass. "Let's not be getting' too sappy now."
Malcolm eyed his best friend as he continued to blush, and knew with a silent shake of his head that Trip Tucker, though he would surely one day be the breaking of him, was also surely the best thing that could ever have happened to him.
And damn it all, they'd survived.
888
A/N: Please forgive me for that pointless piece of fluff! And review, of course...