It wouldn't take long, Archer told himself. Just a few minutes; just a few words. Just a little longer and Reed would no longer be his problem to deal with. Somehow he didn't find that comforting in the least. He'd spent the past two and a half weeks trying and failing to figure out what the hell to do with Reed, but now that it was not his decision, he found himself surprisingly resentful at both Starfleet and Phlox. A pending diagnosis, for god's sake. What did that mean?

He knew, of course, what it meant. It was Phlox's way of discreetly forcing Starfleet to recall Reed without permanently destroying his career. Phlox wanted his patient away from Archer. Back on Earth he would be re-evaluated, of course, but both Archer and Phlox knew by now that Reed could talk his way through damn near anything, not least a psyche evaluation. He'd be written a clean bill of health and a new assignment. Maybe he'd even get onto another starship, if he was lucky.

Of course, it was entirely possible that his career would be destroyed even without a debilitating medical diagnosis. Starfleet had opened a highly classified but official investigation upon receiving Archer's report and Reed's recorded testimony.

Archer was both resentful and relieved that Phlox had dealt with the situation so quietly and capably. On the one hand, what business of the doctor's was it how he dealt with Reed? On the other hand, he still had no workable solution to the problem and he couldn't simply do nothing. Now Reed would be out of his hands.

"You won't be staying on the Enterprise."

"Yes, sir."

Phlox had also informed Archer that he was not to interact with Reed without the doctor present. He had not submitted any paperwork to Starfleet to this effect, but he'd strongly hinted that he could and would if Archer disregarded his directions. Archer did not appreciate being strong-armed into supervision whenever he wanted to talk to his former officer, but he also wasn't prepared to go head-to-head with the stubborn Denobulan. A queasy sensation in his gut suggested that Phlox might have a good point. He hadn't exactly followed doctor's orders concerning Reed, and he couldn't blame the Denobulan for his caution. This time Archer had gone through proper channels as far as Phlox was concerned. As a result, his current meeting with Reed was in Sickbay with the doctor hovering somewhere nearby. If Phlox wanted to put Reed at his ease, Archer thought wryly, Sickbay was a strange choice of location.

"Starfleet is recalling you to Earth," Archer said. "The Vulcans have agreed to grant you passage on one of their ships."

If Reed was surprised, he did not show it. He only nodded as if it was expected.

"Your case is under investigation," Archer told him. He'd felt grimly vindicated upon learning that. Now, looking at Reed's pale face, Archer only felt tired disappointment. All those years ago he'd built a team he thought he could trust. They'd saved the world together, literally; and all along one had been answering to another leader. Reed swallowed hard but said nothing.

"These are your orders," Archer added, handing a PADD to Reed. "You'll be leaving in two days."

Reed took the PADD automatically. He seemed to understand that this was a final parting, for as Archer turned to leave he stepped forward impulsively.

"Captain." He spoke in a rush. "I know you have no reason to believe me, but it has been an honour serving with you." He held out a hand.

Archer could think of a lot of things to say to that, but he didn't respond immediately. As much as he wanted to give a sharp answer, it simply wasn't true that he had no reason to believe Reed's words. He knew the pride his former officer had taken in serving on the Enterprise. He knew Reed regretted his own actions with regard to Harris; but it wasn't enough. Now, Reed wanted their parting to be one of mutual respect, if not of liking.

Something ugly and angry rose up in Archer – the thing that the Expanse had birthed in him, the thing that had distanced him from Tucker and spoken contemptuously to Reed and chewed away at Archer's morals until they had become bare skeletal spectres in the back of his mind. The thing pounced on the festering pool of Archer's indecision and stirred it into a filthy sludge.

"You're right, Lieutenant," he said quietly to Reed – without heat, without spite, and for a moment he saw something that was almost hope in the man's eyes. "I have no reason to believe you."

Phlox would be furious with him. Archer didn't wait to find out, and left without meeting Reed's eyes or his proffered handshake. That was his style these days, he thought, sick with self-disgust. Spit his poison and leave without waiting to see the damage. A hit-and-run, as it were.

He tried to quell the guilt. His resentment toward both Phlox and Reed was not misplaced, he argued. Reed more than deserved his anger, and Phlox had taken it upon himself to throw around medical terms and regulations in an effort to protect Reed from the consequences of his own behaviour. A pending diagnosis, indeed. Archer had known Phlox long enough by now to know when he was throwing up smokescreens.

It had been a bad idea to come to movie night.

Reed arrived a few minutes late, hoping Tucker would decide he wasn't coming. But Tucker had never given up on him before, and he was waiting outside the mess hall when Reed approached.

Mayweather had chosen some old horror film – or maybe a thriller. Reed had never seen much difference. This one featured a group of college students, on vacation in Rome, who found an entrance to underground catacombs and went exploring, despite what Reed considered clear and obvious warning signs. They didn't even go armed. Of course there were poltergeists or spirits or what-not. The plot was predictable, but most of the other crew members seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The caves started flooding.

It was all fake, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Reed rose quietly and slipped out of the room, careful to open the door as little as possible so the light from outside would not disturb the others. He leaned casually back against the wall and perused a PADD without actually reading it, just so that no one passing would talk to him.

The door opened again and Tucker emerged, looking concerned. He relaxed visibly upon seeing Reed standing calmly outside.

"Not really my kind of film," Reed said apologetically.

Tucker nodded. "I'm not much in th' mood either." He studied Reed speculatively. "Let's take a walk," he suggested.

Reed did not object, but he felt himself growing tense. He could think of no reason Tucker would want to 'take a walk' other than to bring up exactly the questions Reed didn't want to discuss. Still, he slid the PADD back into his pocket and followed Tucker, who slowed down to let him catch up. To Reed's surprise, however, Tucker didn't question him. They walked through the halls in silence for several minutes before Tucker spoke.

"What is yer type of movie?"

"I don't really have one," Reed admitted, guarded despite the apparently innocuous query. "I never had a lot of time for films."

"They're an important part of cultural understandin'."

"Many films are based on books," Reed said. "I would prefer to read the original work as its author intended, not watch the version doctored by some company for mass appeal."

"That's fair," Tucker conceded. He was quiet for a moment. "What's yer type of book, then?" A hint of bitterness crept into his tone. "Mystery? Spy novels?"

Reed made no reply and refused to meet Tucker's eyes when the other man looked at him. Tucker sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said. He sounded tired and hurt. "That was uncalled for."

"I deserve it," Reed confessed softly. Tucker's words stung, but he was frankly surprised both that it had taken so long for the resentment to surface and that Tucker hadn't been harsher. The engineer ran a weary hand through his hair and didn't answer.

He stopped by a small access hatch and removed the panel, then felt around inside for the light switch.

"Travis showed me this place." He nodded inside. "Go ahead."

Reed's skin crawled at the thought of entering such a cramped space. But Tucker was his superior officer, after all, so he shut his mouth on the protests that welled up and stepped carefully through the small hatch.

The difference was immediately apparent. Reed's feet rested only lightly on the floor. He felt weightless. Startled by the sudden, disorienting lack of gravity, he clutched at the side of the hatch as Tucker came through.

It wasn't a small room at all, Reed realised. It was cylindrical, about three metres in width and five in height. He and Tucker stood on one of the flat ends of the cylinder. Cautiously, he released his grip on the edge of the hatch and found that his feet did not quite leave the door. Tucker pulled the hatch closed.

"There's a slight amount of gravity at both ends, but it's null in th' centre," he explained, smiling at Reed's obvious astonishment. "It's because of th' warp core. We're directly above it."

Now that he knew that, Reed could feel the subtle, powerful vibration in the air. How had he spent so many years on the Enterprise without ever knowing of this place?

"I didn't know about this until Travis showed me," Tucker said, unconsciously mirroring Reed's thoughts. "All th' freighters have a sweet spot too." He pushed off the floor and drifted up to the ceiling, settling himself in a comfortable seated position. Reed followed him with less grace. It had been a long time since he was in close to nil gravity, and it was a strange and unsettling sensation. He rather liked it.

It took a minute or two to perform the necessary mental gymnastics to re-orient himself and convince his brain to switch up and down. When he managed it, he sat a safe distance from Tucker on what he now registered as the floor. Feeling awkward with the silence, he toyed aimlessly with his long sleeves.

"I'm workin' on some modifications to th' warp engine," Tucker volunteered, sensing Reed's discomfort. "Tryin' to stabilize th' field so it won't cause gravimetric distortions."

"You're trying to get rid of this spot? Why?"

"Yeah. Well – not that I want to get rid of it, see. But it's caused by an inconsistency in th' warp field that becomes greater with a higher warp power. That's why this room exists – it's a buffer, so those distortions won't hurt anythin'. But that's also why we can't go past warp five yet. The destabilization of warp field containment gets to a point where th' ship starts tearing herself apart. I think if I can fix th' containment problem we might be able t' get a higher warp factor. But it'll also get rid of this place."

"Oh." Good things did have to end, of course. Reed felt a sadness disproportionate to the loss of this little pocket of weightlessness. He thought about leaving the Enterprise in just a few days. He hadn't told Tucker yet, or anyone else; apart from Archer and Phlox, he suspected only T'Pol knew.

"Yew could work on it with me," Tucker offered. Reed glanced over and was struck by the forlorn hope in his eyes. Tucker knew that things would never be as they had been. Too much had happened for them to ever go back to that. But still he was trying – he wasn't giving up, even though he knew how absolutely hopeless it was. He was trying so hard to forgive Reed for a wrong he didn't understand. A wrong that wasn't forgivable. Reed looked away.

"No," he said softly. "I can't. Trip, I –" He almost couldn't say it. "– I'm leaving."

"I don't understand," Tucker said after a long pause, sounding bewildered. "What do you mean, leavin'? Leavin' what?"

"The Enterprise. I'm leaving the Enterprise."

Tucker sucked in a quick breath. Reed couldn't tell the emotion behind it. "When?"

"Tomorrow," Reed admitted.

"What?" Tucker was startled and upset. "What do yew mean, yer leavin' tomorrow? What the hell are yew talkin' about?"

"The Vulcans are taking me back to Earth," Reed explained quietly.

"What th' hell!" Tucker demanded. "Yew can't just leave – again! Especially not now!"

The 'again' hurt more than Reed cared to admit. "I don't have a choice."

"What do yew mean?" Tucker asked, still angry but marginally more cautious.

"I'm being recalled," Reed confessed. He felt his face flushing with shame. "I'm not to serve on a starship. For now, at least. And…I'm being investigated."

"But…" Tucker's anger had drained completely. "…why?"

The seam on Reed's sleeve caught on a hangnail, dragging a sliver of blue thread out. He picked at the loose thread to avoid making eye contact. There was an obvious reason for an investigation, of course. He'd deserted, practically committed treason. But both he and Tucker knew that other things had been covered up before. Why not this? He balled the thread up and rubbed it between his fingers.

"Phlox…thinks I have post-traumatic stress disorder," he said. After all the time he'd spent thinking about it in the last day, he found that the words came with surprising ease. They were just words. They could apply to anyone. "He hasn't had a long enough observation period to make it official, so it's just a pending diagnosis. But Phlox wouldn't let me stay, even if Captain Archer would." Tucker absorbed the news silently.

"And what d'yew think?" he asked at last, levelly. Reed shrugged self-consciously, staring down at his slightly-frayed sleeve.

"I don't know. I don't think…" Tucker waited patiently as Reed struggled to formulate his thoughts. "I don't know."

"I see."

Reed raised his eyes at last to meet Tucker's. The engineer was staring at him unreadably.

"I think he might be right," Reed said. The words seemed to break through a barrier he hadn't known existed until it had gone. "I didn't leave the film because I was bored, Trip."

"I know." Tucker gave him a faint, sad smile. He didn't seem surprised.

"It's not just now." Reed fiddled with his sleeve again. "Phlox explained the symptoms to me. Some of them…I was having some before all this started."

Tucker was puzzled. "Before all what?"

"Before Harris. The Romulans. The Orions. I…" He pulled his sleeve up and turned his hand over, revealing the scar between his thumb and forefinger from the hypospanner. Without the final regenerator treatment, the scar had become permanent. "Do you remember when I got this? With the hypospanner?" It seemed decades ago.

"Yes." Tucker was no less confused, but allowed Reed to continue without probing.

"It wasn't exactly an accident. I mean – it wasn't on purpose," he added hastily, seeing Tucker's face. "But it wasn't just a freak accident either. I was jumpy. I got distracted."

"Shit," Tucker said softly. Reed was inclined to agree. "When did this start?"

Reed ran his hand softly over the thin blue sleeve. He could feel the slight unevenness of his burn scars, now long faded, beneath the pads of his fingers. "After the temporal anomaly," he admitted. "I didn't know. But…" Maybe I should have known. Maybe I didn't want to know.

"I don't know what t' say," Tucker told him.

"It doesn't matter." He was leaving tomorrow, anyway. Nothing anyone could say changed that.

"No, Malcolm, it does matter," Tucker said hotly, "because yer my friend. And I don't know why you left th' Enterprise for this person, this – Harris? but yew know what, I don't even care. You've done some pretty stupid things and hurt a lot of people, an' I can't tell yew that doesn't matter, because it does. I can't tell you I forgive you, because I don't even know what th' hell it is that yew have done. I can't even say I'm not angry, because I'm damn angry. But…" He lost momentum. "Well, I'm still here."

Reed smiled weakly. "That's kind of you." It was more than he deserved by far.

"If there's anythin' I can do to help…"

"There's not. But I appreciate it." He did, more than he could express. He knew that his relationship with Tucker had been damaged far beyond any possibility of healing, but Tucker's continued loyalty meant more than he knew how to say. He looked up, startled, when Tucker put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm serious, Malcolm. I know things are…messed up, I guess, but I'm not givin' up."

Reed had to blink back unexpected emotion. "Thank you," he said thickly. "And...I'm sorry. I know it's not good enough to say that. But thank you."

"Yeah."

Reed was glad Tucker didn't try to dispute him. It would have felt feigned, and there was enough deceit between them already.

"When is th' crew findin' out you're leaving?" And what will they be told? The unspoken question was easily discernible.

"I was going to tell my staff the morning of and leave a memo for the Captain to send out to the rest," Reed said. "Just that I've been recalled to Earth for questioning. And medical evaluation, I suppose." It was mostly true, anyway.

"Hmm." Tucker nodded thoughtfully. "I think yew should tell Hoshi an' Travis, at least. They care about yew a lot."

"They shouldn't."

"That ain't really yer choice to make, Malcolm."

"I suppose not." Reed sighed. "I've had enough of lying." His noncommittal answer seemed to satisfy Tucker, though in reality he had little intention of broaching the subject with anyone else.

"Good." Tucker gave his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it. "Who knows? Maybe goin' back to Earth won't be such a bad thing. You'll be able to visit yer family, anyway."

Reed looked sharply at him to see if this was a hidden jibe, but Tucker's eyes only showed sincerity. Reed forced an unconvincing smile. He wasn't going to open that can of worms, not now or probably ever.

"Sure," he said. "I guess I can."

In the end, he said nothing to Sato and Mayweather. He'd not made an effort to see anyone since his return to the Enterprise, and on the occasions when he had seen them, they clearly felt awkward and unsure what to say to him. He seemed to have that effect on people these days. Reed didn't want their pity or their unspoken questions in addition to their discomfort. Sato and Mayweather would find out the details of his recall soon enough. Tucker, thinking they knew, would probably mention it one way or another, and they would get the explanation from him. Nonetheless, it felt a bit underhanded to leave Tucker with a false assumption.

Sato, Mayweather, and Tucker accompanied Reed to the airlock where the Vulcan ship had docked. He'd been told to report to the ship promptly, but Reed was in no hurry. He was keenly aware that this was probably the last time that he would ever see any of them.

As they walked, it occurred to Reed that he had never actually met his replacement. Somehow, he had simply not crossed paths with the Andorian lieutenant. He remarked on this to Sato.

"I'm sure you'll meet him sometime," Sato said. Her faith in him to eventually return to the Enterprise was almost painful. It was best, he knew, that they never see him again. "He's a good man."

The words caught Reed's attention. He glanced sharply at Sato, discomfited by the fond smile on her face.

"As long as he's competent."

Sato laughed. "Don't worry, Malcolm. He'll keep your targeting scanners aligned."

"I suppose. The crew seems content with him."

"He takes good care of them."

"Not too good, I hope," Reed objected. "I'd hate to think he was easy on them."

"I'm sure the crew would rather be under your care," Sato reassured him. "I know I would."

Reed wondered what exactly she meant by that. Probably she meant very much less than he wished she did.

"We'll all miss you," Mayweather told him. 'All,' Reed thought, presumably meant only those who knew nothing more than his cover story – those who thought him blameless. If his absence was anything to judge by, Archer would not be sorry to have one less problem on his hands.

They lingered by the airlock in awkward conversation until there was no longer any way to pretend that they had anything of substance to discuss.

"I should go," Reed told them.

Mayweather shook his hand wordlessly. Sato hugged him. Reed allowed himself a moment of deep sadness that he would probably never see her again. Perhaps if he'd been braver…but if that was the case, he would never have gotten to this point anyway. Well – it was better not to know. That was a door that was firmly closed to him now, because of his own actions.

Tucker clasped his hand and patted him warmly on the shoulder. Reed marvelled at how Tucker seemed able to brush away the past weeks as if they had never happened.

"Stay in touch," Tucker instructed him.

"Sure." They both knew it wouldn't happen. Chances were that this was the last time they would ever speak.

Reed lifted his small bag of possessions and paused at the airlock, taking them in one last time. When he left, he did not look back.