Disclaimer: I think I forgot this on the last few chapters. Still not mine.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, sir."

Reed looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes contrasted starkly with his pale face. He hadn't been sleeping well, Phlox had said. Seeing him now, Archer took that to mean he hadn't been sleeping at all.

"Phlox told me you're doing better." These were in fact not the doctor's words at all. What he had said was that Reed was 'lucid' and that Archer 'should be tactful.' In other words, Reed was delicate at the moment. Archer wasn't used to having to regulate his words around the Lieutenant. Especially now, torn maddeningly between concern and anger, he wanted nothing more than have at the man with the force of all this mess behind his words.

"Yes, sir."

"That's good."

It had been three days since Reed had woken, and Phlox had only just granted Archer permission to speak with him, and then only after strict lecturing. As much as he respected the Denobulan's medical expertise, however, Archer needed to talk to Reed bluntly. Phlox had stepped away to give them privacy, and Archer decided that if his former tactical officer was uncomfortable with something then he could damn well speak up about it.

"I spoke with Harris. After you left."

Reed's eyes flicked up to meet his, then skimmed away. His fingers tugged restlessly at a fold in the thin blanket. Archer waited for him to speak, but nothing was forthcoming.

"You told me you wouldn't contact him again."

"I didn't." The twitching fingers tightened. "He contacted me, Captain."

"You should have reported it to me immediately."

Again, there was no answer. Archer resisted the urge to grind his teeth. Only Phlox's warning that Reed was still in a fragile state prevented him from snapping at the man.

"Why didn't you?"

Reed shook his head, not in refusal to answer the question but rather by way of suggesting that this had never been an option.

"I could have stopped this," Archer said in helpless anger. "All this, Malcolm. It didn't have to happen. You could have been on the Enterprise all this time, not…" he only just stopped himself from throwing directly in Reed's face the torture that he had undergone. Unsettled by his own inhumanity, Archer rose and paced a tight line along the side of the bed. Reed's grey eyes followed every move. Archer turned sharply upon him and pinned Reed's gaze before it could flick away.

"Malcolm, why didn't you report it? I want an answer."

"Sir, I – didn't have a choice."

"What does he have on you?" Archer knew he had hit a nerve by the crease in Reed's forehead. "Was he blackmailing you?" A flutter of hope stirred up. Blackmailing suggested that wrongs had been done in the past, yes, but at least it would give some kind of justification now. It would shift at least a fraction of the blame.

"No." Reed steeled himself visibly. "I went of my own free will, Captain. I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit."

"Dammit, I don't want to punish you," Archer barked, lowering his voice so that Phlox would not hear. "I want you to tell me why I shouldn't!"

Reed blinked. "I can't," he admitted softly. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies. That's not good enough."

Reed bowed his head in downtrodden acknowledgement. Archer wanted to shake him. This passive acceptance was so unlike Reed, so unlike what he needed Reed to be right now. He wanted explanations, not apologies.

"If you wanted to leave this mission, you could have just told me that."

"I didn't want to leave," Reed protested.

"That's not what I'm seeing."

"Captain," Reed said desperately, "please believe me. I wouldn't have left if there were any other way. But my – duty –"

"Was to immediately report to me that Harris had contacted you!" Archer's voice rose in aggravation. "Don't bring duty into this. You had a duty to me, and you chose to completely ignore that. I ordered you not to be in contact with Harris, and I expected you to obey that order without exception."

It hadn't been without exception, though. He had sent Reed back to Harris for information. The thought nagged at Archer, despite repeated efforts to push it away. Did that have anything to do with this? Was there, perhaps, some unspoken threat hanging over Reed's head, forcing him to repay the debt? Archer did not ask. He didn't want to know.

He still could have come to me. It felt like a feeble excuse.

"Yes, sir."

"How long were you planning this?"

"Just over twelve hours," Reed told him. That corresponded with what Archer already knew.

"At least you're telling me the truth about one thing."

Reed winced, and Archer felt a twinge of regret. He was justifiably angry, but it was no excuse for petty spite. He brushed off the discontent with himself.

"I don't understand this, Malcolm," he said heavily. "I want to understand, but you're not helping me. Show me why I shouldn't throw you straight into the brig right now. Show me why you deserve another chance."

Because I don't want you to be a traitor. I don't want to believe that I could have been so wrong about you. How vain. Was his own desire to be a good judge of character part of his motivation for insisting that there had to be some good reason for Reed's actions? Or was it his own beleaguered morals speaking, trying to convince him that he was giving the man a fair chance?

He had meant for the words to give Reed an opening, but they were clearly received as a threat. Reed's face looked even whiter than it had when Archer first came in.

"I don't deserve another chance, Captain." His voice was raw. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't tell you any more than I have."

"You haven't told me anything." Archer didn't expect an answer, which was just as well. He tried again.

"Harris sends his regards, but I expect he'll get the chance to tell you himself soon enough."

It was a low blow, and he knew it. He didn't have anything else left. The imprint of the words reflected back at him in Reed's eyes.

"Sir, I don't intend to –" Reed spoke quietly, pausing to amend his words. "I won't speak with him again."

"It seems to me I've heard that before."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop. I've heard that too, and I don't believe it anymore." The anger had solidified to a dull mass in his stomach. "I'd just like to know one thing." He knew better than to say it. "Did you ever intend to keep your word to me, or was everything you've ever said just another lie?"

Archer left without another word, not wanting to see the effect of his vicious words. He didn't return to the bridge, but instead locked himself in his quarters and sank into his desk chair, burying his sore head in his hands.

He'd gone too far. He'd let his own personal outrage override his professional judgement, something he would never have done in his early years as the Enterprise's captain. What had happened to him since then? The Expanse had changed him; he hadn't realised how much. Excuses. The Expanse hadn't changed him – he had allowed himself to change. Bit by slow bit he had permitted his morals to take second place to what he'd called the mission. But had it really been the mission? Taking engine parts from another vessel, leaving its crew stranded dozens of years from their home with no hope of return; ignoring his senior officers' protests, thus destroying the checks and balances that a captain's authority was always meant to have; he had even sunk so far as murder, in the name of saving a life. Harris's use of the clone had served to underscore Archer's own actions. How could he internally condemn Harris for such a deed when he himself had done exactly the same thing?

Unbidden, the thought of Tucker's clone crept into Archer's mind. He had tried to stay away from Sickbay during the few days it took for the clone to mature, but he had seen it as a child. There had been such innocence in that face. Had Reed's clone been the same, before it, too was brutally murdered? Had Reed himself once had that youthful innocence in his eyes, before it was stamped out by someone with words as cruel as Archer's own?

In trying to save humanity, Archer realised with a painful twist of irony, he had lost his own humanity.

Loathing for his own actions, for his own broken morals, washed through Archer. He wanted to bury himself in his misery, but he didn't have that luxury.

Archer rose and went into the bathroom, where he ran damp fingers through his hair to smooth it. Whatever harm he had done, he could not take back. But he couldn't hide away from his own mistakes. He was the captain of this ship for better or for worse. He had a crew that needed his leadership, not his regret for fallen ideals. Phlox would take care of Reed; Archer trusted him to do so. Maybe after some time had passed, he could go back and apologize. To Reed. To Phlox. It might do some good, or it might not. But for now, his only option was to keep moving forward, to keep trying to fix this mess, even if he was flying blind.

Porthos came sniffing around Archer's feet, whining for attention. Archer wished that all of his crew members were as simple as the beagle.

"How's he doin', Doctor? Chompin' at th' bit yet?"

Tucker felt oddly tense as he entered Sickbay. He knew he shouldn't: if anything, he should be relieved. Finally, the secret was out – part of it, anyway. Archer had concocted an official story to be distributed among the crew, while the truth as far as Tucker knew it remained between himself, Phlox, T'Pol, and Archer. Until Reed's version of the story was heard, Archer had made the call to keep quiet anything that would reflect poorly on the Lieutenant. Phlox had thrown up some convenient medical red tape that Starfleet was currently hacking at in an unsuccessful attempt to force Reed to make an official report. The doctor had not needed convincing to declare his patient unfit to be questioned. Whether this was to protect Reed for as long as possible, or because he actually wasn't fit to be questioned, Tucker didn't know. At any rate, it had bought Reed time.

There was no reason, Tucker told himself, for him to feel uncomfortable speaking to Reed, always assuming Phlox permitted it. Surely, there was an explanation somewhere for Reed's actions. Tucker had to believe that even if Reed had deserted, there had been a reason – if not an entirely legitimate reason, at least an appropriately compelling one.

Instead of displaying the wry amusement that Tucker expected in response to his question, Phlox only frowned slightly. "Well, he doesn't want to be here, if that's what you mean."

"What is it, Doc?" Tucker asked, concerned by the unanticipated reaction. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. Yes," Phlox amended immediately. "The Captain had a word with Lieutenant Reed. A few choice words, it seems."

Tucker wanted to strangle Archer. "What did he say?"

"I don't know," the Denobulan admitted. "I was in my office."

"Can I talk t' Malcolm?"

Phlox eyed Tucker critically. "That depends on what you intend to say. If you can restrain the urge to aggressively demand answers, I suppose I can permit it."

Demanding answers was more or less exactly what Tucker wanted to do, but at the moment his own needs could not take precedence. Which meant that all the questions swirling inside Tucker's mind, stirring up the anger and hurt, would have to wait. Getting answers to his own pain and disappointment was second to Reed's wellbeing.

"I'll be careful, doc.".

"Very well," Phlox sighed "But please," he insisted, "remember that he is recovering from mental trauma. Do not agitate him in any way."

Tucker had almost been expecting to find something terrible based on Phlox's grim words, but although Reed was still far too thin, he actually looked much better than the last time Tucker had seen him – limp, unconscious, and bloody on a stretcher, being whisked off to Sickbay. At least he wasn't covered in blood anymore. The bruising around his nose had faded to a sickly yellowish. He was still pale, but maybe that was normal. Tucker was surprised at the genuine rush of gladness and relief that he felt upon seeing Reed alive and whole, despite his own anxieties and his questions.

"Hey, Malcolm."

"Hey." Reed's voice was slightly hoarse, as if he couldn't be bothered to put in the extra effort to sound awake or enthusiastic.

"How're yew doin'?"

"Fine." Reed summoned a faint smile. "Well enough for visitors, apparently."

Joking about Phlox's protectiveness seemed a reasonably safe topic of conversation. "Doc gave me all th' warnings before he let me in."

"That sounds about right. Did he include 'fragile, handle with care'?" There was a hint of bitterness in the words. Tucker wasn't sure if Reed was serious.

"It's part of th' standard procedure."

"Of course." Reed tapped lightly on the bed rail until he noticed Tucker watching. "How long has it been? Since you brought me back," he clarified upon seeing Tucker's confusion.

"About a week. Six days, maybe."

"Phlox won't tell me the time," Reed explained, almost apologetic. "I didn't know." He shifted restlessly. "Where are we? The Enterprise, I mean."

Tucker was grateful to be given something to talk about. "A planet called Haliia. It was occupied by the Orions until a week ago. Th' Vulcans are helpin' the Haliians rebuild. We're here for diplomatic reasons. Meanin', I suppose, that Starfleet wants a slice of th' pie."

Reed blinked uncomprehendingly at him. "Starfleet wants an in with th' Haliians," Tucker translated. "Fer when their economy gets runnin' agin."

"Haliia," Reed repeated slowly. "Is that where I was?"

"It's where we found yew, yeah."

"The Vulcans are here? Why?"

Tucker whistled softly. "Now that's a story. D'yew remember S'Trep?" Reed nodded, frowning. "Th' Vulcan High Council heard about him and demanded we give him t' them," Tucker explained. "They commandeered th' Enterprise, threatened t' attack us if we didn't put T'Pol in command until Vulcan warships arrived t' take S'Trep. Starfleet cooperated. What else could we do? We're no match fer the Vulcans."

"But why?" Reed asked warily. "What did they want with him?"

Tucker shook his head. "Couldn't tell yew. We were still waitin' for th' Vulcans when the Orions cleared out. Their sensor shielding went down." He grinned conspiratorially. "We weren't supposed t' leave the ship, but T'Pol let slip that she detected a human life sign on th' surface. Communications weren't workin', an' the Cap'n and I figured we couldn't wait fer permission."

"You disobeyed orders?"

"I think it was fer a good cause, don't yew?"

Reed ignored the question. "You could have been court-martialled, and Captain Archer." His eyes widened in alarm. "You aren't –?"

"No. I guess Starfleet has bigger problems right now, with th' High Council. But lissen, Malcolm, we'd have done it anyway. There's things more important than a career."

Reed considered this without expression.

"Trip, I left."

"I know."

"No, you don't. There was…Harris." He shook his head, confused. "I thought – but it doesn't matter. I chose to leave. I deserted."

"I – I know."

Tucker had known, but he'd been hoping otherwise. He'd wanted there to be an explanation. Surely, that wasn't the whole story. There had to be more.

"You know?" Reed was startled. "But – the body."

"Phlox realised it was a clone within hours, but yew were gone. We searched the planet, but Starfleet was breathin' down th' Cap'n's neck. They didn't believe the body wasn't yew. An' we had no idea where t' look. So the Cap'n put a story out that yew were dead. Phlox an' T'Pol an' I knew you weren't, but everyone else…"

"You weren't supposed to know," Reed protested, agitated.

"Maybe yer not as sneaky as yew think."

Reed dropped his eyes to the blankets covering him. "Why…did you come for me?"

"What are yew talkin' about? Of course we came."

"I deserted, Trip. Why would you risk your career for me?"

Maybe because we're more loyal than you. Tucker suppressed a pang of guilt at the thought. "Come on, Malcolm. You'd do the same."

"No," Reed said quietly. "I don't think I would."

"Oh." Tucker felt suddenly cold. "Oh. Well…we did."

"You shouldn't have."

"Yew woulda died."

Reed's face closed off. "I know."

"What th' hell are yew talkin' about? You wish yew woulda died?"

"No," Reed answered quickly. "No. But perhaps Captain Archer would have preferred that." His mouth twisted in a wry grimace.

"He damn well wouldn't," Tucker protested, although the urge to strangle Archer had begun to resurface. "Don't be stupid. What did he say t' yew?"

"Nothing."

It wasn't like Reed to sit back and take unprofessionalism, even from Archer. He'd always been scrupulously respectful with the captain, but pacifism was hardly his style.

"What happened t' yew, Malcolm?"

Reed watched him warily, seeming to interpret the question as an accusation.

"That's a long story."

"I got time."

But Reed was shaking his head. "I'm sorry. You can't ask me that."

Tucker left shortly with the knowledge that if he'd intended to cheer up either Reed or himself, he'd been absolutely ineffectual.

"I don't see why I can't visit him too," Sato complained.

"I guess Phlox doesn't want a whole lot of people in there at th' moment. Too disruptive or somethin'."

"Come on. He knows I wouldn't be disruptive."

Tucker shrugged. He knew perfectly well that disruptiveness was not the reason for the restrictions on who could visit Reed. Archer had ordered Phlox to turn away anyone who knew only the cover story for Reed's disappearance – in other words, anyone but himself, Tucker, and T'Pol. If Archer was worried about Reed telling someone about what had actually happened, Tucker thought bitterly, he needn't worry. There was little chance of that. Reed seemed patently determined to tell only the part of the story that was most condemning to him.

"How was he?" Sato asked, lowering her voice to avoid being heard in the crowded mess hall.

"Different," Tucker admitted. He found himself reluctant to tell Sato about the strange apathy he'd seen in Reed. "He seemed kinda out of it. Maybe he's jes' tired."

Sato's forehead creased with concern. "I hope so."

"He'll be fine," Tucker said with more confidence than he felt. "Phlox is a good doctor."

"That is not what I'm worried about," Sato assured him with a wry smile. Tucker searched for something to distract her attention away from Reed.

"How's it coming with th' Haliians?"

"I've got the translator mostly calibrated to their language," Sato explained. "Haliian is remarkably similar to several Earth languages. I suspect that the similarity in physiology between Haliian and human vocal structures resulted in the parallels between the languages. It's really quite something."

"I'm sure it is, but I meant all th' diplomatic stuff."

"I'm only a go-between," Sato reminded him. Over the past few days, an Earth ambassador had been in long-distance communication with a Haliian diplomat, with Sato conferenced into the link as an interpreter. "But I think the Haliians are a lot more interested in relations with the Vulcans than with us. To be fair, the Vulcans do have more technology to offer. I get the feeling that the Haliians are talking with us mainly because we're on good terms with the Vulcans."

"Are we?" Tucker asked pointedly. "Las' time I checked, th' Vulcan consulate on Earth was vandalized. I don't think I'd call that good terms."

"That was an isolated incident," Sato protested. "We still have an alliance with the Vulcans. This will blow over in time."

"Maybe we shouldn't let it."

"What do you mean?" Sato frowned at him. "I know you're not happy about what they did, no one is. But that's no reason to talk about breaking off a decades-old alliance."

"That's not what I meant. I jes' want t' know why no one's askin why the Vulcans decided t' threaten us over that Romulan."

"I'm sure Starfleet's asking."

"Behind closed doors, maybe."

"Don't be so paranoid, Trip," Sato said exasperatedly. "The Vulcans don't trust the Romulans, they probably just want to question S'Trep to make sure he's not a spy."

If he was paranoid, Tucker thought, then he had good reason to be. He'd been part of one conspiracy ever since Reed's disappearance. Now, in the actions of the High Council, he could see the unmistakable signs of another cover-up. But what did the Vulcans have to hide?

"I'm sure it's jes' that."

He had become far too comfortable with lying. He could appease Sato with falsehoods almost without noticing his own deception. Tucker swallowed back his remorse and returned Sato's guileless smile. Telling her the truth, he argued to his discomfort, would only hurt her. He might be lying, but it was for Sato's protection. He had to believe it was the right thing to do.