Hey, I wanted to apologise for going radio silent the last couple of days. My headspace hasn't been the best and I thought I needed to retreat a little bit. I'm sorry I upset you, that's the last thing I wanted to do but I just needed some space. I'm ready to talk whenever you are, if you still want to figure out what this thing we've got going on is

Hayes waited for Malcolm's reply with Hoshi; turns out they both loved My Little Pony – Hoshi had been impressed that Hayes recognised the Pinkie Pie slippers that Archer had gotten her for her birthday and they ended up watching an episode of the series; it was nice, just hanging out with a friend, and Hayes couldn't remember the last time he'd been so relaxed with someone who wasn't Malcolm. He really needed to plan a game night – he'd used to plan them about every other week, inviting different people from his team each time, and a couple of Fleeters as well. Though Ed, Mac, and Ayo were constantly fixtures. And then there were the weekly poker nights that Mac held, and that he hadn't been to in three weeks – and about a month before that. He seriously needed to stop avoiding his friends.

The credits of the second episode of My Little Pony rolled before Malcolm replied.

I'm free now if you want to talk.

He showed it to Hoshi, his heart starting to pound against his chest. Well, at least he was willing to speak to him.

"Go get your man," Hoshi said, grinning like a Cheshire cat, playfully nudging him with her elbow.

"Thanks Hoshi," Hayes replied, standing up to put his boots back on. "I mean it, really."

"Any time," she told him. "And just be honest with Malcolm; you've got this. But remember – healthy boundaries are a good thing."

She gave him two thumbs up as he left her quarters and he just smiled in return, though he did think the boundary thing she threw in was weird. He quickly put it out of his mind however as he reached out to ring Malcolm's bell next door, his hand shaking slightly, when he thought better of turning up empty handed; he instead headed for the galley thinking he could heat up some pineapple fritters and see if there was any banana and peanut butter ice-cream in the freezer. He returned to Malcolm's quarters a few minutes later with his loot and, tucking the ice-cream under his arm, rang the bell.

He wiped his sweaty palm on his leg, feeling like there was troop of butterflies having a party in his stomach. He started when the door slid open to reveal an impassive looking Malcolm, who just wordlessly stood back to let him in. Hayes grimaced as he crossed the threshold, Malcolm having turned his back on him.

"I brought your favourite," Hayes said lamely, setting them down on the desk.

"Cheers," Malcolm replied unimpressed, from his perch next to them, having hopped up at the same time Hayes set down his wares. He kicked out his chair and rested his feet on it, crossing his arms in his lap. "What did you mean your headspace hasn't been great?"

Okay, straight to the chase. Hayes shrugged as he sat down on the bed directly opposite him and he got himself comfortable before replying. "I guess I was just in a lousy mood, and I didn't really feel like talking all that much."

"Alright, what put you in a lousy mood?" Malcolm pressed. His shoulders were hunched and he seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible. Hayes suddenly remembered what Hoshi said about Malcolm thinking he'd done something. Shit.

"It wasn't anything you said or did," Hayes tried to reassure him.

"It's not you, it's me, seriously?" Malcolm shot back. His impassive mask was beginning to crack, and Hayes could see some genuine hurt there. He wanted to kick himself.

"It's not just a line –"

"Then what happened?" Malcolm interrupted. "You seemed perfectly fine the day before, and then nothing. Not a word. You didn't even look at me when we passed each other in the armoury or the gym. What am I meant to think?"

Just be honest. Okay Hoshi, let's see how much your advice is worth. Hayes nervously ran a hand through his hair and stared at Malcolm's boots lined up neatly on the floor for a moment. Malcolm's quarters had almost the same layout as Hayes's and Hoshi's, just the bathroom and the door were on the opposite side of the room. And it actually looked like someone lived there. Hayes needed a poster.

"I started thinking," Hayes said slowly, still staring at the ground. He held his hands together to stop them from shaking. "That I wasn't really good for you; that I wasn't going to be able to be what you need, and that I was a selfish jackass for rushing you. And that I was going to be too much for you."

Malcolm was silent for a couple of beats, and Hayes was too afraid to look at him. "Don't I get a say in that?" When he did finally speak, Malcolm's voice was low, and his tone very carefully measured.

"I am a lot of fucking work," Hayes said, finally looking up to see Malcolm regarding him thoughtfully, but not as though he was judging him. Hayes leant his elbows on his legs and rested his chin on his clasped hands. He felt like a tool to be admitting this, but Malcolm had to know. Just be honest. "Like, a lot."

"So am I," Malcolm replied with a shrug. "It's not like dating with PTSD is easy, you know. Especially when said trauma successfully repressed one's sexuality for years and one's trying to lose all one's hang-ups."

"That's another thing, I was terrified I broke you the other night."

"I was fine!"

Hayes just gave him a look. "You were overwhelmed."

"I was not."

"You were shaking and couldn't speak afterwards!"

"I was tired, and so were you."

"At least I was coherent."

Malcolm scoffed. "I was perfectly coherent."

"Yeah, after twenty minutes, a glass of water, and a snack." And snuggling for the entire time with Hayes tenderly stroking his hair. Fine, his ass.

"I was still fine," Malcolm retorted. "I have no regrets about the other night," he continued quickly when Hayes opened his mouth to speak. "None. Whatsoever." He turned uncertain then, looking Hayes up and down. "Unless you do?"

"None," Hayes said emphatically. "Whatsoever."

"Even after thinking you broke me?"

"Okay," Hayes admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "I was getting kind of angry at myself for not putting you first."

"Oh, I was thoroughly looked after, you don't need to worry about that," Malcolm looked at him like he was crazy.

"No, I mean…" Hayes huffed a breath sharply through his nose. "I mean, that, I – I don't know what I mean. I was worried I pressured you into it," he finished finally.

"You didn't," Malcolm insisted. "I can make up my own mind, you know. And you can't just disappear on me when you get upset. I was starting to get really worried, and then when you didn't show up this morning…" he trailed off. "I was really worried this morning, is all." He was starting to look more visibly nervous now; he started playing with his hands, clearly trying to work up the nerve to say whatever he wanted to say next. "And I think if we're going to pursue this then we need some ground rules, the first one being that you can't just avoid me when you're in a mood."

Hayes hadn't expected that. "Ground rules, seriously?" What were they, dumbass teenagers? Okay, fine, Hayes knew full well he wasn't the most emotionally mature, but still. He had kept relationships together before. Not for very long, because they guys he dated couldn't handle the drinking – though Jason had lasted longer than most, but even he had left in the end. Even so, he had a damn sight more experience than Malcolm did. He knew for a fact that Malcolm's longest relationship was three months, and he didn't need his little Baby Gay to tell him how act in a relationship.

"Yes, seriously," Malcolm said, not backing down. "I was talking to Phlox –"

"Why the hell were you talking to Phlox about us?" Jesus Christ, they'd slept together once, and he was running to a therapist? Did he think that he was too much to handle? Already? Hayes himself did think that, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt that Malcolm clearly thought so too. "What, did you need advice about dating an alcoholic?"

"No, I needed advice about dating with PTSD. And if I want to make ground rules and, and –" he searched for the words, clearly trying to remember what Phlox had said. "Healthy boundaries to protect myself, then I think that's perfectly acceptable."

Healthy boundaries. He'd clearly been talking to Hoshi. And now Hayes had been talking to Hoshi; should he have gone to someone else? Who? Mac? Ed? Maybe Hoshi could have gotten him in contact with his sisters: Hey Piper, just calling you for the first time in months from deep space to get some dating advice. You know how I'm so much work that I've scared off every single guy I've ever dated and am just a mess of a human in general? Well, now I'm dating a guy who has PTSD and there's no way that he can handle me without keeping at arms' length with a bunch of very specific rules. How's everything with you?

"I don't mean that you can't have any input," Malcolm continued, seeing that he had an opening while Hayes was trying to sort out several different trains of thought. "But I only admitted to myself that I'm gay less than to two years ago, and I have a lot of old wounds that I need to look after. And I have anxiety, so if I need clear rules to help me navigate this, then so be it."

"Fine," Hayes huffed. As if that was the real fucking reason, as if it wasn't so he could find a way to put up with dealing with Hayes. And he knew that he was a lot of work, he knew that some boundaries were probably a good idea, and he knew that he needed to quash that bubbling feeling in his chest before it spilled over. But here was the man he cared about highlighting exactly why Hayes was a fuck up, and he couldn't take it. He felt like he was about to explode. "Fine. No disappearing acts. Anything else?"

"Are you okay with that?"

"Don't have a choice, do I?"

Malcolm swallowed. "Well, you do actually," he said, very quietly. He was clasping his hands so tightly in his lap that his knuckles had gone white, and he looked like he was wound tighter than a drum.

"That's news to me."

At his tone Malcolm schooled his features into an impassive mask that not even Hayes could read. His voice was steady when he next spoke. "I just told you why I need this. And I think it could be good for you too –"

"I don't need any fucking rules!" Hayes shot up suddenly, causing Malcolm to flinch. "We are goddamn adults, why the fuck do we need write a list of rules like we're five-year-old's who need a list of what we are and are not allowed to do? Do I get a gold star when I tell you I'm have a bad day?"

"If this is going to be your attitude then I think you should leave." Malcolm kicked his chair out to the side as he stood up; it rolled until it bumped into the wall. "I won't put up being spoken to like this."

"And, what, I should let myself be bossed around like a jackass who can't – who can't –"

"Who can't what?" Malcolm snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Can't have a conversation like a reasonable adult?"

"Clearly you think so, or you wouldn't have gone to Phlox for advice on how to talk to me!"

"I already told you why! And I hate to break it to you, but considering how volatile you are, maybe I should have asked for some advice!"

"Volatile?" Hayes's mouth dropped open. Him? Volatile? Okay, fine, he was, but that didn't mean that Malcolm had the right to say it.

"And what would you call this?"

"Understandably pissed off!"

"Over what? What did I ask of you that's so awful?"

"Why are you even bothering to be with me if it's going to be such a chore for you?"

"I just told you that I'm nervous and that's why I need to do this!" Malcolm's voice broke towards the end. "This is completely new to me, and I'm still trying to adjust –"

"If you find being with me so disgusting why are you even bothering?" Hayes snapped.

"Get out." Malcolm pointed at the door, an obvious wobble in his voice now. "Just get out; this is obviously not going to work."

"Because you don't want it to."

Malcolm's eyes were getting very bright, and he was looking Hayes up and down nervously. "I'd like you to leave."

Hayes stared him down and Malcolm, for his part, didn't break eye contact, he just kept pointing at the door. That judgmental, little ass, who thought that Hayes needed some list to know how to act right in a relationship. And he just kept pointing at the door, as if Hayes didn't know where it fucking was. And who was just standing there, not saying anything, not even blinking, his eyes filling with tears –

Oh.

Oh.

Oh God.

What had he just done?

The anger that had been developing popped like a balloon, and Hayes realised that Malcolm had a hard set to his jaw, and his eyes had turned steely. Healthy boundaries. Should he go get Phlox? Should he know more about PTSD? He probably should. Oh, fuck, what the hell had he just done? Hayes wanted to punch himself in the teeth.

He took a couple of steps back, covering his mouth with his hands. "I didn't mean to get that mad," he said slowly, feeling sick with himself. "I'm so sorry –"

"Be sorry somewhere else." Malcolm had finally dropped his hand, and recrossed his arms. Hayes could tell that it was to stop himself from shaking.

"I overreacted –"

"Clearly." Malcolm was actually starting to shake now.

"Why don't I get Hoshi?" Hayes said quickly, cutting across what Malcolm wanted to say next. "I'll leave, but I don't, I don't want to leave you alone."

"Perhaps I want to be alone." The picture of nonchalance was ruined by a tear leaking out of his eye. He quickly wiped it away.

Hayes bit his lip. Shit. "I am such an ass, I am so, so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled –"

"Oh, now you realise."

He was visibly shaking now, looked pale, and was breathing like he'd run a race; he flinched when Hayes reached out to grab the desk chair and wheeled it back in front of him. "Okay, you sit down –"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Malcolm snapped. He was about to lose it, Hayes could tell, and he didn't know if he should leave him alone, run and get Hoshi, or try and fix it himself. But what the hell did he know? How the hell was he meant to fix this? But the thought of getting someone else to clean up his mess was almost as unbearable as the thought that he'd ended up triggering Malcolm.

"I think you're having a panic attack –"

"Thank you, Major Obvious," Malcolm barked, but he sat down anyway. Or maybe his legs just gave out. He jumped when Hayes tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Hayes crouched down next to him, one hand on the desk next to him and bit his lower lip. Malcolm ended up putting his head in his arms on the desk in front of him, trying to take deep steadying breaths.

"I had a sister who had panic disorder, do have anything to ground yourself? Can I get you anything?" Hayes asked softly, resisting the urge to rub his back, instead grabbing the back of the chair. Malcolm stayed silent. Stupid, stupid, stupid… how could he lose it like that? Seriously, what was so wrong with what Malcolm was asking of him? He needed him to be understanding, and Hayes had made it all about him, and lost his temper. He was such an ass. He saw a bottle of water off to the side, and grabbed it and tried to get Malcolm to drink some.

He did after a moment, taking a small sip. "Take a few big gulps," Hayes instructed. "It worked with my sister," he continued when it looked like Malcolm was going to protest. He was relieved when Malcolm tried it, finishing half the bottle, gasping. But he didn't take his suspicious eyes off of Hayes the entire time. "Finish the rest of it," Hayes told him gently. "Trust me."

Thankfully, Malcolm did, and he polished off the rest of it. "Feel a little bit better?" Hayes asked, taking the bottle from him. "You can punch me in the face if you want." He gave a weak smile at his own joke, which quickly faded when Malcolm didn't return it. He was still regarding him as though he was expecting him to start yelling again. But he hadn't asked him to leave again.

"I'm fine," Malcolm said shakily. "Really, I'm fine now."

"I was overreacting," Hayes repeated, very quietly, looking down. "I know I was, and if you need to set those rules and be clear on what you want from me, then I want that – I want you to do that. If you still want to give this a chance," Hayes added uncertainly, glancing back up.

Malcolm was still trembling, but it was much less than before. "I would appreciate it if you could control your temper a little better," he mumbled, gripping his arms tightly. He was avoiding eye contact with Hayes.

"Absolutely," Hayes said quickly. "That's not even in question."

Hayes didn't catch what Malcolm said next, and asked him to repeat it. "You reminded me of my uncle," he said louder. "The one I went to live with when I was thirteen."

"The one who kicked you out?" Hayes still had no idea why Malcolm had been sent to live his uncle; he avoided the question when asked. Malcolm nodded, but he didn't say anything else about it, and Hayes decided not to push it.

"I am really okay with setting boundaries." He ran a hand over his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, that's fine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I want to be with you, and if that's what you need, then I can make it work. Honestly."

Malcolm wasn't appeased. "Then why did you get so angry?"

Because he had kind of been thinking that he was the problem, and that this was so Malcolm could deal with him, not so that he could deal with dating in general. But he didn't feel like admitting that. So much for honesty.

"I don't know," he just said, lamely. "I guess I didn't see the point in getting so strict with what we have, but if that's what you need then I want to do it; I think we should."

"Really?"

"Really."

Malcolm regarded him thoughtfully for a minute, but seemed to believe he was genuine.

"Alright, then." He nodded, seemingly placated.

Hayes was beyond relieved. He got up out of his crouch and grabbed a throw off the end of Malcolm's bed; he let Hayes throw it over his shoulders, and grabbed it in both hands. This time, when Hayes reached out to rub his arms, he let him touch him. "If I get like that again, you just throw something at my head, alright? Or give me a kick; smack me in the face, I won't mind."

Malcolm didn't reply.

"So, ground rule number one: no disappearing acts. I will drop you a message if I need space. I won't leave you assuming the worst and thinking I'm annoyed with you."

"Fair enough."

Hayes schooled his features into a neutral expression. He was embarrassed and frustrated with himself for losing his temper like that, and wouldn't have blamed Malcolm if he still wanted to kick him out right then and there. "Are you mad at me?"

"Bit embarrassed," Malcolm muttered, staring at his knees.

"I should be the one who's embarrassed, you didn't give the guy you have the hots for a panic attack."

"Shouldn't have had a panic attack in the first place."

"I shouldn't have lost my goddamn mind over a reasonable suggestion."

Malcolm looked him in the eye at that point. He seemed to believe him. Thank God.

They were both silent for a moment, trying to think of something else to say. This had turned uncomfortable, pretty fucking fast. Well done Hayes.

"So… Captain Archer snapped me out of it this morning," Hayes told him. He stood up again, and walked back over the bed and sat down. He had to fight the urge to just wrap Malcolm in his arms but thought that he should take what he should get at the moment. "He came in and threw a pillow on my face. Yeah," he continued as Malcolm eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "And a pile of blankets, and then finally Porthos. It was weird."

Malcolm smiled, remembering something. "Last year, I ended up dissociating in front of him – first time in years, so it was actually quite frightening – and he managed to get me to stand up and made me walk around the room; he kept changing direction suddenly, and spun me around, and just kept talking nonsense until I started to laugh. There's a note on my personnel file, just to inform my CO, and it turns out he did some reading on what to do if I had an attack. He's good like that."

Hayes ran his hand through his hair again; it was probably completely on end at this point. "Any other CO, and I would be on the first transport back to Earth by this point."

"I find that hard to believe," Malcolm said, his brow furrowed. "I've had COs check in on me, and I've had a panic attack or two, but I've only ever gotten support. Even after the time I panicked during a drill on the bridge when I was assigned to the Hiryu. Yes, that was embarrassing." Malcolm grimaced at Hayes's sympathetic expression. "But, Captain Izumi made me some tea, told me to have a chat with the doctor, and had me shadow the Armoury Officer on the bridge for a few shifts. Even though I should have been qualified to take the tactical station at that point." He shrugged, almost squeezing his ears with his shoulders. "She said I needed to get it sorted, but she gave me the time to do it."

"If that happened to me, I would have been reassigned," Hayes told him, dourly. "I've seen it happen – you just get tossed in some office, or put on leave. And you've never shown up to work after going on a bender all weekend that only ended at seven am on Monday. Or just done a lousy job and get called a lazy waste of space by your CO."

"But did they know they had you had a problem?"

Hayes looked down again. "Yeah, because I told them. I was a year out of Westpoint, and had started drinking again after two years and just…" he shook his head and looked back up to Malcolm regarding him sympathetically. "I tried to get sober again myself, but I thought that I should tell my CO that I was struggling, because we got the same crap: look after your mental health, if you need supports we have 'em, don't suffer in silence, blah, blah, blah. Nothing but lip service. I can honestly say that I've had more help in the last month than I have in the last twenty four years."

"I take it then, that MACO psychiatric facilities have little to be desired?" Malcolm asked, looking slightly pissed off. If Hayes didn't spend so much time with him, he doubted he would have been able to read his pretty impassive expression.

Hayes nodded, but didn't reply. It was common knowledge how effective modern psychiatric treatments were, though there was the opinion that was more to do with the combination of patients being more willing to engage with therapists and early detection programs. There was little stigma attached to it anymore. Hayes remembered Tucker saying just that morning how surprised he was that the MACOs hadn't been required to under a psych eval. Maybe he should recommend it to General Casey.

"But we're not talking about how crap MACO psych is," Hayes said, wanting to change the subject. "We're talking about us; and whatever it is we have going on."

"Right," Malcolm said. "Right." He glanced down, a little bit guiltily. "To that end… there is one other important thing…"

Hayes scrunched up his face in confusion. A flash of nervousness crossed Malcolm's face before he settled into another mask of complete composure. Hayes was getting the impression he'd practiced whatever it was he was about to say.

"The thing is, I do want to explore this – relationship – further, and I do love spending time with you, however…" he visibly gulped, the only outward sign that he was uncomfortable. "I think that I want to wait a little while before we sleep together again. I have a lot to process," Malcolm continued. "It's purely to do with me, and giving myself some time to get comfortable with everything. It's nothing to do with you at all."

Hayes just looked at him for moment. Alright, not what he wanted to hear, but considering he'd had a slight heart attack when Malcolm said 'however' and thought he was about to get dumped before it was even a real relationship, he was going to take this as a win. "It's not you, it's me," he deadpanned. "So you were overwhelmed."

"Alright, I was a little bit. The thing is, I was labelled as a 'faggot' from an early age, not because they knew I was gay, but because it was the worst thing they could think to call me and torture me with," Malcolm continued, almost pleading with Hayes to try to understand. But Hayes didn't; he couldn't. He'd never gotten any flack about being gay, he didn't know anyone who had, and honestly wasn't something he could empathise with. What Hayes did know was that he just wanted to hold him. "And by 'they', I mean my elder sister. Did I show you my arm?" Malcolm asked, timidly. He moved over to sit next to Hayes, rolling up his right sleeve as he went. Hayes didn't miss the fact that he was eyeing him a little suspiciously as though he was afraid that he was going to snap again; or the fact that he made sure to leave some distance between them when he sat on the edge of the bed; or that he was coiled tighter than a spring, as if he could hop up and fly to the other side of the room at the slightest provocation.

"When I was twelve," he started, a slight tremble in his voice. "My sister's friends held me down, while she did this."

He held out his arm. There, carved into his arm was an old scar. Hayes had felt it the other night, and had glimpsed it once or twice in the gym, but had written it off as old self harm – and they were obviously old, so he didn't need to worry about it. He'd never felt the need to take a closer look. But there, on the inner side of Malcolm's forearm, starting at the wrist, was the word 'FAGGOT' carved into his skin.

Hayes took his arm gently in both hands, running a thumb over the 'F'. He could feel Malcolm trembling. "Madeline did that?" Was all Hayes could say. He could feel rage building up in his chest again. She better hope that she never met Hayes. All he wanted to do in that moment was head back to Earth, and find the pieces of crap that had did this to him.

"Meredith," Malcolm corrected. "She's older, Madeline's younger. Madeline is the one who skinned on me to our parents."

Great, so both of Malcolm's sisters were awful, terrible people that Hayes really wanted to punch in the face. And his parents for good measure. God, what kind of family had he grown up with? He knew that Malcolm had been bullied for being gay in school already, but tortured by his own family? He was shook out of his angry thoughts by Malcolm taking his hand back, and fumbling with the sleeve to cover his arm again.

"So, there you have it," he said, in a good attempt at breezy, plastering a fake smile on his face. "I just want to take things nice and slowly, and just give myself a minute to adjust. If, um, if that's alright. And I understand if it's not," he continued quickly. "I would understand that –"

"Malcolm," Hayes cut him off loudly, sensing he was going to start rambling awkwardly. "I am perfectly happy to give you whatever time you need. I've already agreed to your ground rules."

"Really?" Malcolm asked hesitantly, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

Hayes reached out and took one of Malcolm's hands in his. He was relieved that Malcolm let him. "Really. I am more than happy to go at your pace. And rule number two: when you're uncomfortable about something, speak up."

"I will!"

Hayes only raised his eyebrows in response.

"I will," Malcolm insisted. "I just did, didn't I?" He turned uncertain. "Are you really alright with not sleeping together for the next while?"

Hayes just shrugged before saying simply, "I've got hands."

Malcolm started laughing. "As long as you're going to be taken care of, I suppose that's alright." He turned awkward, staring at the ground, and glancing at Hayes out of the corner of his eye. He looked like he was about to start hyperventilating again.

"Come here." Hayes wrapped an arm around his shoulders, while Malcolm lay his head on his shoulder, while Hayes in turn laid his cheek on the top of his head. This was nice; he could stay here for a while, actually. And it looked like this was all he was going to get for the next while, so he'd better enjoy it.

"Matthew?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to watch the second episode of Band of Brothers?"

Hayes kissed the top of Malcolm's head. "I'd love to."