3

Sunset District, San Francisco, CA, 0700 hours, October 3, 2149

Malcolm waited to call Jean until he got home from the mission briefing. He checked the contents of his ever-ready bag and was almost set to head out for the shuttle. He had been putting off calling her for a couple of reasons; primarily because he didn't want to wake her at some ungodly hour to give her the bad news, but also because he wanted to delay having to give said news for as long as possible, since he hated to see the disappointed look which he knew would inevitably pass over her face. She would try to hide it, of course, and tell him it wasn't a problem, but her willingness to accommodate his unpredictable 'business trips' always made him feel that much guiltier about cancelling their plans. If she got angry about the rain-checks then he could at least have the satisfaction of telling her that work was more important than socializing, but as it was, he was perennially stuck being the bad guy.

By then it was around 0710 and he knew that she would be awake and getting ready for work. He sat down at his desk and steeled himself to place the call. He dialed her number and waited for her face to appear on the screen.

She smiled at him, sitting back in her chair and putting aside a mug of what he knew was most likely Twining's Earl Grey. She took hers with milk and one sugar. "Good morning, Malcolm."

She had brought what looked like a bowl of oatmeal over with her to answer the call, and he realized that he had caught her in the middle of breakfast. He tried to push aside his guilt at having to cancel on her, but seeing how glad she was to hear from him only made him feel worse about what he had to say. Malcolm still mustered a smile for her. She needed to know that he was glad to see her in spite of the circumstances.

"Good morning." He sighed heavily, shaking his head and dropping his eyes briefly before looking up at her again. "I'm sorry to be doing this again, but I got an off-world assignment early this morning and I won't be able to meet you for lunch tomorrow."

As he expected, she looked disappointed by the news. Her face fell and she slowly put aside her tea, shaking her head and not looking at him. When she spoke, there was a resigned tone to her reply. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?" She only met his eyes after she had spoken.

Malcolm felt a slight knot form in his stomach at the hurt expression on her face. He briefly, very briefly, considered suggesting that they could meet up that morning. They might be able to squeeze in a coffee and a bite to eat before he had to catch his shuttle… but no, there probably wasn't time enough. In any case, she was expected at the hospital and he didn't want her to be late either. "I'll probably get back late on the sixth or early on the seventh."

Her shoulders sagged, but after a moment she made a half-hearted 'never mind' gesture with one hand. "Well, it can't be helped, right? You've gotta go do some big important thing and…" she cut herself off, but he had a good idea of what she had been about to say: 'and our plans go out the window.' He knew that was the way it had to be, but the knowledge was hardly comforting. Jean shook her head, composing herself with a visible effort, and offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I know it's your job. Just promise you'll make it up to me?"

He nodded, relieved that she understood. "You have my word." His mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile as a thought occurred to him. "We'll do a movie night as soon as I get back, your choice of films."

She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, leveling a stern look at him. "A couple of movie nights, you mean, as well as a lunch or two… and no backing out," Jean smirked, "even if the sky is falling."

Instead of trying to distance herself from him, as he had expected her to do after so many cancellations, she seemed intent on spending more time with him. Very intent, in fact. He shook his head with an amused sigh and, encouraged by the unexpected demand, added a sweetener to his offer. "Done. I'll even sit through one of your interminable chick flicks, if you like."

"Hmm," Jean narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "I guess that'll have to do, Mr. Reed." Her playful mood seemed to fade and she uncrossed her arms, sitting forward again and looking earnestly concerned. "Promise me you'll be careful?"

He sighed. She always said that. It felt good in a way, knowing that she cared enough about him to worry, but he didn't like to be a burden on her. Besides, in his line of work there were no guarantees, especially when it came to Rigelian pirates, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause her any grief. "I'll do my best."

She nodded and forced a smiled. "You always do. Good luck, Malcolm. I'll call you on the seventh." She hesitated before adding, "I'll miss you."

That caught him off guard. Not that she would think it, but that she would express it. He cleared his throat uneasily and heard himself give the expected reply, although his voice faltered a bit as he realized the truth of his words. "I'll… miss you, too."

He smiled back stiffly and closed the call, feeling slightly guilty about having to keep her in the dark, but such was the life of a spy. He stood up from his desk, frowning. He would miss her, and that was a problem. When had she become so important to him, and how had she managed to bypass his defences and get so close? He shook his head. This should come easily to him. After all, he had spent most of his life keeping other people at arm's length, which was one of the reasons Harris had sought him out in the first place, so why was he suddenly having difficulty with it now? Maybe it was because every so often when he was spending time with Jean he found himself unable to look her in the eye, or maybe because he couldn't help thinking about the diametrically opposed reasons why each of them ended up with blood on their hands at the end of a hard day at work. He doubted that she would hold in such high regard if she knew what his 'business trips' consisted of. The thought of Jean's skilful hands trying to mitigate damage which he had inflicted on one of his missions was almost too much for him to bear. He shook his head as images of the last person he had killed flashed before his mind's eye. Maybe it was time to think about his options, about the possibility of doing something other than Harris' dirty work. This mission had a noble enough aim, but jobs like this were few and far between, and no matter how noble it was at the outset, he knew that it would most likely end up with a body count, either human or otherwise. Malcolm shook his head again as he set about double-checking the contents of his ready-bag. It was definitely time to think about doing something else with his life, preferably something which he didn't have to lie about and which wouldn't slowly but surely corrode his sense of honour. He would give the matter serious thought… after this mission was over.