Chapter Twelve – Holding Hope

A/N: Hello all! Thanks for all your reviews:

Verity Kindle: Lol, I'm glad you're enjoying it. And yes they are a cute couple! Thanks also for the name of the 'ship. I'm afraid I don't have any drawings of them at the moment, but you'll be the first to know once I have – after all, can't let your love of the 'ship go to waste, can we?

burrcat213: Sadly the tartan swimming trunks are based on real life... my Dad's!

grumpyelaine: Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoy chapter twelve.

Alelou: The 'ultimate Malcolm fantasy', that made me laugh. The Clendavins were inspired by a whole year of studying Communism at AS... from what I've read it tends to result in a few powerful (and thus provided for) people and lots of rather mistreated ones... it seemed interesting to bring this idea in to a fic and see what might happen if those mistreated individuals got the chance to seek revenge. They are very, very bitter towards the Universe in general... poor Henny and Malcolm!

firebirdgirl: What I love about having so many 'original' characters is that everyone likes different ones! Poor old Tiller... do enjoy the next chapter, and thanks for reviewing!

General Kunama: Lol, thanks for that. Enjoy more shameless fluff/romantic tension in today's update...

johnf: Nice to see a new reader! Glad to hear you're enjoying it. As for your little niggle, well, I'm afraid I didn't think very deeply about it...! Hangs head in shame.

Chapter Twelve – Holding Hope

Billy Cortan was not in a particularly composed mood as he walked into the Store that morning, partly due to an early-morning conversation he had had with Annan – a conversation made rather the more frustrating for Billy due to the fact that Annan was taking the sweetest time possible to dress.

"Aren't you worried about Henny at all?" Billy had asked, after Annan had commented on his tossing and turning that night. Annan had raised a perfect, Vulcanesque eyebrow whilst shamelessly striding across the room stark naked to pick up his shorts.

"She's with Lieutenant Reed. He'll look after her. Anyway, it will be a good situation for them to... get to know each other better."

"You really are beyond words sometimes, Annan!" Billy had exclaimed, turning his face away only half out of anger and half due to the havoc that Annan was wreaking on his self-control. "I doubt even Malcolm Reed could be much help in protecting her unarmed, and what if they aren't together?" The thought of his friend alone and in the hands of strangers who wished her harm was almost more than he could bear. It seemed cruel and pointless that after all that the group had survived together during five years in deep space, Henny was now apparently lost after a single night's revelry on shore leave. Annan, however, seemed entirely insensible to this attitude. On receiving only silence in reply, Billy had snapped, rising from his bed and tossing Annan his lazily discarded uniform. "And put some bloody clothes on!" And with that he had stalked out, leaving a supremely unconcerned Annan to finish his morning's toilette.

Billy was therefore not in the best frame of mind to deal with a puffy-eyed Jill as he stepped into the room. She rose on seeing him, and approached. He shuffled awkwardly, and though it was probably unfair to Jill, he wondered briefly whether she saw him in any different light now that she knew his great 'secret'. It was ironic enough that he had managed to keep what he thought patently obvious from the others for the entirety of their mission, but even more ironic that he should only reveal the truth on almost being propositioned by a woman he saw as his most sisterly friend.

"Billy – can we talk? I really need someone to..." She trailed off, glancing around. "Everything, with Henny... I thought after what we talked about you'd..."

"I'm sorry." Billy tightened his jaw. He had enough guilt and worry of his own to deal with. There was shame, too, irrational though it was. Perhaps he was ashamed that he was still worrying about his own, petty concerns when Henny was in danger. "I don't think I'd be... the right person to talk to."

"Right." Jill nodded, and Billy realised all at once from her stricken expression that he said the wrong thing, made the wrong gesture. He had been so concerned about going out of his own comfort zone that he had disregarded just how far Jill was out of hers. Before he could take back his words, however, Jill turned for the door. "I've just got to..."

She was gone. Billy groaned. Miranda, who had been sitting at her sewing machine, unnoticed by Billy, spoke up.

"Now, I know this isn't really the time..."

"It isn't." A detached part of Billy wondered if he was turning into Annan this morning; taking out his ill-humour on anyone who spoke to him. Miranda continued unabated.

"...but I think that girl has a bit of a soft-spot for you..." Billy resisted the urge to groan once more. Not this again. "...and I know you have one for her, so -"

"For God's sake, Miranda!" He interrupted her. "I'm bloody gay!"

Billy had never really understood the oxymoronical term, 'a deafening silence', but he would have sworn on his mother's life that this was exactly what filled the Quartermaster's Store as he turned, heart hammering furiously, to face the door which had just swished open. Annan was staring at him, disgust on his pale, handsome face.

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"Right. All done." Henny resisted the urge to sigh with relief as Lieutenant Reed – Malcolm – sat back on his heels, the last length of bandage now wound around her head. The antiseptic, or whatever it was the Clendavins had provided, had felt painful enough for Henny to grudgingly believe in its necessity, but she had been loath to showing how much it hurt. Far apart from attempting to retain what little pride she had left after being kidnapped, beaten, and thrown into a six-by-six cell with her superior officer wearing only her skimpiest dress, Henny also did not want to worry the Lieutenant any more than he needed. She had learnt enough about him through the ship's grapevine, and then through her experience on Clendavia with him, to know that he found any situation in which he did not have complete control highly distressing – especially where the safety of a member of the Enterprise crew was concerned, be they Crewman or Captain.

"Thanks." She said, flashing him a smile which she did not truly feel. He looked bemused, but at least that was better than the abject guilt she had seen painted on his face when she had been tossed back into the cell an hour earlier.

"You're shivering." He said suddenly, and with a start Henny realised that he was right. She wrapped her arms around herself, gritting her teeth as she remembered that she had been wearing Malcolm's jacket when the aliens collected her for 'discussions', and that it had not returned with her. For want of little else to do, she studied her companion. There were dark rings under his eyes and his hair – usually so neat and tidy – had finally rebelled and was sticking up hither and thither. Henny wondered blankly how bad she must look in comparison.

"You're shivering too," she said, and then almost laughed. They were sitting two feet apart as if afraid of one another, and yet the very basic survival training they had both been given had to been to conserve – and so share – as much body heat as possible in potentially dangerous situations. Well, Henny had the idea that it had gone beyond the 'potentially' dangerous.

It seemed that Malcolm had stumbled upon the same thought, for he shimmied across to her and held his arms open with the air of one shortly to be martyred.

"Come on with you, then." He said, and Henny raised an eyebrow.

"You don't need to make it sound as if it's such an unpleasant prospect to you, Mr Reed." Nevertheless, she leant into him, and placed her own arms around his body. She swallowed slightly as she did so. Now she understood why it was such good survival training; to hold onto the only friendly body near in a grim situation could provide far more than physical warmth. The very basic need – shared by all animals, even humans, Henny mused – for physical contact as a form of contact was often forgotten in the more 'professional' world.

Reed chuckled at her words, and she felt the rumble of the laugh in his chest. She could also feel, however, the sudden tautness of his back muscles, and knew that he was finding their current position – far from comforting – excruciatingly awkward. It didn't help that they were exactly the same height; she couldn't see his expression without leaning back.

"Pity you aren't a bit taller," she said, for want of anything else to say. Without thinking she started to draw small circles on his back, but he stiffened even further at that and she desisted. "Then we wouldn't keep knocking noses."

She could hear the raised eyebrow in his voice, even if she couldn't see it.

"Or you could be shorter." Now it was her turn to laugh.

"I'm average. You're the one who has the height issues here."

He coughed.

"I'll have you know," he said, with great dignity, "that five foot five is quite a respectable height."

Henny snorted, but winced as her arm twinged with pain. The problem with being in such close quarters with someone as observant as Malcolm Reed, however, meant that he picked up on it immediately.

"Are you alright?"

Henny nodded, but collided with his chin.

"Yes. Sorry, sir. Malcolm." She resisted the urge to shake her head in exasperation due to the potential collisions it would cause.

They were silent for a while, and Henny realised that Malcolm's posture was slowly relaxing. Neither of them were shivering anymore, either.

"Was that why you became an Armoury Officer?" She asked, and he shifted slightly. She loosened her arms slightly.

"Excuse me?"

Henny smiled slightly. He knew exactly what she meant. Then again, she would probably have felt that he had let her down if he had not given an evasive answer at first. He was, as Miranda had often said, an odd one. Then Henny realised that she was thinking of her friends in the past tense, as though she would never see them again, and she hastily elaborated in order to avoid thinking of such a possibility.

"The height thing. Did it make you feel you had something to prove?"

Malcolm was silent, and Henny worried for a moment that she had insulted him. When he spoke again, however, she realised that he had simply been weighing up his response.

"I think perhaps I did feel I had something to prove. But maybe not about my height." He paused, before adding, in a lighter tone; "I hope you don't subscribe to the John Steinbeck view of 'little guys'."

Henny snorted at his attempted American accent based, no doubt, on that of one Commander Tucker.

"Of Mice and Men? You've read it?"

"Of course. Required reading for every student passing through the British educational system." He paused. "More's the pity..."

They fell silent once more. Henny, in the midst of all this talk of high schools and set books, felt suddenly very far from home. It did not help that at just that moment, as she was about to ask Malcolm if he had ever felt homesick whilst locked in an alien cell and if so how to deal with it, the lights went out. Despite herself, she jumped at the sudden transition into darkness, and she felt the arms around her tighten slightly.

"Look's like it's time to get some rest, then." Malcolm said softly, and she nodded. They lay down, side by side, and Henny closed her eyes. She persisted for several minutes, but it was no good. There was one question which she had to ask before she could sleep.

"They are looking for us, aren't they?"

Her remark was met with silence, and she turned her head slightly, smiling at the sight which met her eyes. Malcolm, obviously accustomed to sleeping in the oddest of places and in grasping any opportunity for rest, had fallen promptly asleep. He looked far younger, Henny thought, with the tight lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed. Then she noticed that his right hand was resting just above his hip, where his holster would be, and she realised ruefully that he was not quite as innocent as he seemed.

She was just drifting off into the arms of sleep herself when she heard him reply.

"Of course they're looking for us."

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A/N: Have changed the height issues and made them both a bit taller. Malcolm would still dwarf me at 5'5"...

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