Thirty minutes sparring with Hayes had done Reed the world of good.

Back in his quarters, showered and dressed, he checked the ship's computer to locate Shaw. He was slightly disappointed to find she was in T'Pol's quarters. Well, he had no intention of interrupting. What he had to say could wait. There was no doubt in his mind meditating did for their First Officer what intense physical exertion did for him, thinking back to the incident on board involving T'Pol and an alien parasite that resulted in her temporary pitch into emotional havoc. She and Meara were likely engaged in their own intense meditative session, building up the mental reserves she would need to face down a Klingon. In a combat arena. Surrounded by dozens of other Klingons, baying for blood... Stop it Malcolm, he chastised himself. He was winding himself up again and no good could come of it. This was the mission. So suck it up, Lieutenant. He steeled his mind and turned his attention to review the tactical scenarios he and Hayes had developed yesterday. He glanced at the chronometer. He had two hours before his guest arrived.

A small part of Malcolm had hoped Hayes had forgotten about inviting himself to dinner in his quarters. No such luck. As they had parted company outside the gym, Hayes said he would see him at 1930h. Malcolm gave a curt nod as he resigned himself to the inevitable. Concern mixed with anticipation of what the evening would uncover distracted his thoughts. Meara, as usual, had been correct. But it wasn't just the last few days that Malcolm had been dodging the possibility of finding himself alone with Hayes. Aside from strictly professional situations, he could count on one hand the number of times he and Hayes had been one-to-one and never in a social or personal situation. The first encounter of that nature had been tempered by the presence of his old friend, Hayes' new acquaintance and a good bottle of Scotch…

Malcolm sighed and turned his attention back to reviewing the data. Taking a moment, he closed his eyes and conjured up the image of Meara, telling him to stop over-thinking things, that attempting to apply tactical moves to the unpredictability of the human condition was a fool's errand. He let out a deep breath and smiled. Even when she wasn't a physical presence, Meara had felt like a constant in his life, a touchstone of memories upon which he could draw to ground his sometimes tumultuous emotional uncertainties.

Malcolm banished all expectations - good, bad and otherwise - of what was to come and absorbed himself in his work until the appointed time.

"Bloody Hell!" The sound of the chime brought him to groggy senses. At some point, he had retreated to his bed with a PADD and nodded off. He sought out the chronometer. 1930h. Bloody fantastic. Hayes was at the door waiting entry and he hadn't even organised dinner. The chime beeped again.

"Lieutenant? Everything alright?"

"Yes yes, Major. Everything's fine. Well, sort of fine…" He made it over to the door to give him access. "Fine except for the fact that I fell—" As the door slipped open, to Reed's mild surprise he was greeted with a MACO in possession of a tray of dishes, the smell emanating from them reminding him he hadn't eaten since last night, a realisation further compounded by a low growl sounding from the depths of his hollow stomach.

He stood aside with his mouth half-open as Hayes entered with his bounty and deposited it on Reed's desk. "That sounded positively feral, Sir. Practising giving the Klingons something more to wonder about Humans?" He turned, smiling, and again, Malcolm felt a little off-kilter at being in the presence of an at-ease, casually-dressed John Matthew Hayes.

Reed folded his arms and gave him a defensive look, tossing his head towards the tray of food. He didn't need to ask. Hayes knew he was wondering how he knew about Reed's lack of preparation.

Hayes leaned against the desk, folding his arms in answer. "Oh, I went to the Mess and asked Chef if you had ordered food." Reed raised his eyebrows, dreading what kind of gossip such a query would fuel in the kitchen. Hayes noticed the look and continued, "I told him I'd given you a fair old pasting during our training session this afternoon and since I was feeling a little guilty about the thought of you lying in bed, writhing in pain, I'd better make a little recompense and bring you some food…"

Hayes got exactly the response he expected. A redness creeping into Reed's cheek and the beginnings of a spluttered, how-dare-you threatening to evacuate his mouth with all the British exasperation he could muster. Before he did, however, Reed caught the glint in Hayes' eye and the playful smile, and he knew he was being had. He immediately backed down, relieved he found the decorum to get himself under control before making an idiot of himself. Again. Malcolm noted that Hayes had effectively managed to dispel any tension in the room before it threatened to take hold.

"Mmmm. Evidently, you've been spending far too much time with our good Ambassador and filing away hints and tips on how to wind up an Armoury Officer…"

He shrugged. "Something like that. Anyway, let's eat. I'm starved and apparently you are too, Sir." As another low growl escaped Malcolm.

As the evening wore on, both men were slowly realising how badly they had misjudged each other. After the most pressing and pertinent topic of the mission had been thoroughly broken down and analysed, further discussion revealed the common ground they had both chartered through their careers. Eventually, they arrived at the star in whose gravity field they both had become captured.

"I can honestly say I've never met anyone like her," Hayes said.

"And you never will again. She truly is one-of-a-kind. I consider myself damn privileged to count her as a friend." Malcolm paused, watching the pensive expression that had fallen on Hayes' face.

"Listen, Hayes. About the other night in Meara's quarters…" His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, surprised that Reed had guessed what he was thinking about. He made to stand up. "Wait. Just wait. Hear me out." Hayes slowly returned to his seat. "I'm not going to pry. I realise I'm a pain in the backside and precious about my privacy and I respect that need in others. I can't begin to imagine what it must be like - not only to suffer the loss, but the sacrifice you are making by being here now. If anyone had a right to be harbouring Xenophobic thoughts and ill-will against alien lifeforms it would be you." He took a breath. Hayes was looking at him with an intensity that was making him uncomfortable but the precious time he had spent with Meara had allowed him to realise he was sick and tired of watching himself bury his head in the sand when faced with uncomfortable situations so he soldiered on. "I am… curious… interested… but I certainly won't force the issue. I know you'll speak of it when you're ready. If not to me, then I hope you can find someone with whom to share that burden…"

Hayes did stand up then and Malcolm wondered if he had gone too far. To be honest, he had surprised himself so had no idea what Hayes was making of the situation.

"Stand up, Sir." He stood. Hayes moved round the table and placed his hands on Malcolm's shoulders, stepping close. Malcolm felt heat envelop him like a warm blanket. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first contact either man had initiated with the other that didn't look like it was going to end up with one of them on their backs or with their face pinned to the floor in an armlock.

Hayes had a lump in his throat the size of a stun grenade as he spoke in a hushed voice.

"When I lost Joshua and Tara, it was the worst day of my life. I put all thoughts of ever being happy again out of my head and put my team forward for Enterprise's mission to find the Xindi. I hollowed out that piece of my heart that the people I cared most about in the world had occupied and reserved it for all the determined rage I felt towards the people who had caused the worst pain I'd ever known. When the mission was completed, that space became hollow again, but the pain had eased, just a little, but enough for me to know that it wouldn't always hurt quite so much. But not for one second did I ever think I might even have a hope in hell of finding love and filling that space again."

He raised his fingers to gently touch the side of Malcolm's neck, grazing the tips up along his jawline. For his own part, Malcolm was dimly aware of several things happening simultaneously as they stood like that for several heartbeats. As Hayes was speaking, a knot of sensation had formed at the base of his skull and unravelled, trickling down his spine like a waterfall and pooling in the pit of his stomach; then there was the almost certain knowledge that Matthew Hayes was giving serious consideration to kissing him; finally, the feeling that while that might be an unbearably pleasant experience, any escalation of said action would almost certainly be the undoing of Malcolm Reed.

Hayes was looking at him expectantly. Permission was being sought to continue. Despite weakening knees and the warp coil threatening to burst from the pit of his stomach, Malcolm took control of the situation. He would later marvel how the hell he had managed it.

"Major…" "Matthew."

"Very well. Matthew." He wrapped his fingers around the hand resting on the side of his neck. Reed whispered, "I want to tell you what's going to happen now. We are going to put this conversation, this moment, on hold. We are going to complete this mission. We are going to do whatever it takes to protect the Ambassador. Then we are going to go on shore leave and pick this up exactly where we left off…"

Hayes dropped his hand and took a small step back. Any concern that Malcolm might have felt that he had offended him dissipated when Matthew gave him a warm smile.

"Agreed, Sir." He picked up his pullover and made for the door. He stopped and stepped back into Malcolm's personal space and gave him a look that could have melted icecaps on Andoria. "Not only will I be taking you up on that offer, Malcolm, I promise I'll be showing you that there are more definitions of the abbreviation MACO than even your British vocabulary can comprehend." He tilted his head, enjoying the sight of a speechless Head of Security. He reached the door and turned to drink in Malcolm's expression. "And you know I'm a man of my word." Satisfied he'd given him plenty to think about, Hayes exited his quarters and was gone.

Somehow, Malcolm made it over to his bed. What had started out as a mission laced with frustration and mishaps was rapidly morphing into an experience of life-affirming turning points.

And at the heart of it all, the woman whom at one point in his life he had believed was his destiny, actually was, but never in a million light years could he have predicted how that destiny would have unfolded. The Universe's sense of irony was breathtaking.