Title: Consequences

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the star trek characters or anything.

Keywords: AU, dark

Summary: AU. This is the sequel to "Mistakes." It won't really make any sense if you don't read "Mistakes" first.

Hoshi deals with the consequences of her mistakes, while Malcolm joins some old "friends" from his past with the mission to take down Terra Prime. Trip and T'Pol try to cope with being apart, as T'Pol is called back to Vulcan. Trip finds a kindred spirit in Q'ell and T'Pol begins to find who she truly is.

Chapter 5

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Malcolm

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Malcolm pushed himself up from the hard mat, wiping blood from his mouth.

"You've gotten soft, Mal. It used to be I was hardly able to keep up with you." Griswald's silver peppered hair stuck flat to his head as sweat streaked down his face. He smiled at Malcolm, obviously relishing the feel of having a partner so evenly matched. He swung his thick arms back and forth, stretching them before the onslaught that Malcolm was about to dole out.

As predicted Malcolm hopped up delivering a quick but solid jab to Griswald's ribs, knocking the breath out of the man. Griswald returned with a couple more half-hearted jabs, but Malcolm parried them before finally he spun around to deliver a strong backhand to Griswald's jaw. At the last moment though, he relaxed, patting the man's face.

"You still can't keep up with me." Malcolm smiled.

Griswald laughed, pulling off his sparring gloves, "I wouldn't get too smug; you're the one fighting an old man." He tossed his gloves aside as he walked across the gym to a small sink jutting out of the wall.

"You're hardly an old man," Malcolm retorted

"Let me see your lip," Griswald called, washing his hands. He rummaged around the medical cabinet above the sink to find a box of examination gloves.

Malcolm pulled of his sparring gloves and came over. He rinsed his mouth, spitting into the sink, unsurprised to see the water was tinted orangy brown, "I think its fine."

"Is that your expert medical opinion?" asked Griswald, pulling on a pair of the gloves, "As much as it's bleeding you might need a stitch or two."

Malcolm scowled, but sat down facing Griswald, allowing him to probe his lip. "You're the only man I know who patches you up after a fight."

"Well, that's why I'm not a field guy, my big mushy heart." After a short examination, Griswald threw the gloves away. "You're right, you're fine."

"I told you." Malcolm turned the sink back on long enough to splash his face a couple times.

"So how did the briefing go?"

"Harris was vague, of course, but from what I can tell we're going after a couple weapons dealers."

"Terra Prime?"

"No, these guys hacked into Starfleet security records and stole some advanced weapons specs. The concern now is that they'll start manufacturing them and sell them on the black market."

Griswald nodded but looked unsure.

"What?"

"Just be careful Mal."

"I always am," Malcolm picked his gloves up off the floor. "I've got a couple hours. You want to go another round?"

Malcolm sat quietly, eyes closed, leaning against a large tree. The ground, still wet after a recent rain, was soaking through the back of his pants. Malcolm didn't mind, it was a mild night and he hadn't spent this long outdoors since before his time on Enterprise. Crickets chirped around them and frogs croaked behind them, a high pitched whine for a call. There was a steam some ways off from them, adding a soft trickling to the array of sounds around him. He was facing the back end of a neat row of houses, partially hidden by the trees, the target's house directly in front of them, less than 200 meters away. The snap of a twig to his right made Malcolm open his eyes, he turned to face Jax.

"Is Austin standing by?"

Jax nodded, "And Mark has eyes on target. There's still movement in the house, but it looks like one body. We'll be good to go in an hour or so."

As Jax spoke Malcolm watched as one of the lights in the house blinked out.

This neighborhood was not what he had expected. It didn't seem to fit. The men they were hunting were mid to late 20's, single, and antisocial. This was a community of new families. Until dark children had roamed the streets and young mothers had pushed strollers while their husbands had walked the family dog. Three men living together without children would have drawn attention. Malcolm knew that Mark had identified the targets. They were in the house. This had to be right. But somehow this didn't relieve the sense of doubt he felt.

Jax reached into his pocket and pulled a hypo spray, he pushed it to his neck. Then pulled out another and handed it to Malcolm.

"You know the deal," Malcolm said, shaking his head.

Jax grabbed his arm, slapping the instrument into Malcolm's hand, "It's not for you. It's a sedative."

As Malcolm slipped the hypo into his pocket he saw the last light in the house go out. About half an hour later, Jackson's communicator beeped a low tone. He put it to his ear, listening. After a moment he nodded, "Alright, wait five minutes then enter the house from the back." Jax clicked the signal off then turned to Malcolm. "Let's go. You've got the door." Malcolm nodded, checked that his phaser was on stun, then walked towards the house. As Malcolm walked he felt the familiar wave of adrenaline that used to come at the beginning of an op. He picked the lock of the door with ease as he slipped into the skill set of his past. Malcolm was surprised by how normal this felt, but at the same time had expected as much.

He and Jax walked quickly through the door, finding themselves standing in a perfectly pleasant kitchen. The smell of sautéed onions and rice still lingered in the air. Jax pulled his phaser and checked the adjacent rooms, Malcolm pulled his as well, but his feeling of unease returned.

"Jax, this doesn't feel right. We should pull out- verify the intel."

Jax came back into the kitchen, "Remember Jericho?"

Malcolm flinched, "You bloody fucking bastard," he hissed.

Jax smiled, "You knew what you were signing on for when you came back, don't act so naive."

Malcolm holstered his phaser, "I'm not participating in this."

Jackson shrugged, "We only need one of them. If you don't take care of it I will."

Malcolm clamped his jaw tightly, he had no choice. He put himself away, the man that took these people would not be him, it would be the weapon, the thing that lived inside him that almost seemed to be an individual identity in itself. Harris was right, part of Malcolm enjoyed these things, enjoyed the power he had when he let himself go. But it had been so long since he had let this part of himself free.

Malcolm closed his eyes, his hand slid to his weapon upholstering it slowly, it felt different in his hand. More familiar. Not just that. It belonged there. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. His face must have changed because Jax smiled. "There you are."

Malcolm just glared at him in return

"Your target's down the hall on the left.

Malcolm started up the stairs, a thrill running down his spine. As he reached the door he listened for movement behind it. Hearing nothing he quietly pushed it open. His heart lurched as he found himself standing in the room of a small girl. He easily pushed the feeling aside. A weapon couldn't feel.

Moonlight poured from the window, reflecting off the butterflies decorating the walls. A small table of plastic teacups sat in the middle of the floor surrounded by dolls and plush stuffed animals. Malcolm watched the sleeping girl for a moment before gently but firmly planting his hand across her mouth. She woke up, fear flashing in her eyes. As Malcolm pushed the hypo to the girl's neck, she stayed perfectly still, paralyzed by fear. Malcolm waited for the sedative to take effect as the girl's eyes pooled with tears. Finally her eyes closed, pushing the unshed tears down her face, making Malcolm's hand wet.

A weapon couldn't feel.

As much as Malcolm wanted that to be true, now more than ever, it wasn't. He pushed down a sick feeling in his stomach. It wasn't as if he hadn't done this before, subdue the target before transport, but the target had never been so… young. She was only a child, couldn't be more than 7 years old.

Malcolm swallowed hard; he didn't want to do this.

To take this sleeping girl from her home in the dead of the night; to take her to Harris. But if he didn't… Jackson only needed one.

Malcolm wrapped her tightly in her blanket, his decision made. Picking her up, he carried her down the stairs to the garage. Austin was waiting in the van, the look of excitement on his face faltered as he saw what Malcolm was carrying.

"Hey… uh… Malcolm, so what's going on?"

Malcolm situated the girl securely in the back of the van, then took a seat next to her. "Mark and Jackson will come down with their targets and then you will drive us back to the transport. That's what's going on."

Austin chewed on his finger anxiously, "That…um… that looks like a kid."

Malcolm nodded solemnly, "How many missions have you been on?"

Austin shrugged, "I don't know, I've been running missions for probably two months. Maybe five ops, nothing this important though."

Malcolm clicked his communicator twice, indicating that he was back in the van. "And when did you start taking the drugs?"

"I started getting them as soon as I ended training."

"And you know what they're for?"

Malcolm got a confused look from Austin, "Well yeah, they make us better soldiers. Keep us alert."

"You're right they do," Malcolm nodded, "Do you know what else they do? Keep you motivated. A mission doesn't sit right with you? Not to worry. A few days without them clears up any reluctance you may have had."

Austin looked confused, but just sat back down in the driver's seat, as Mark and Jax came carrying a young boy and a woman. "We're done here," Jax said, motioning to Austin, "Let's go."

Austin started the van and backed out of the garage, leaving the quiet neighborhood behind. When morning came children roamed the streets and young mothers pushed their strollers while their husbands walked the family dog, the peace of the neighborhood undisturbed.

=/\=

Hoshi

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Hoshi woke up in the cell to a feeling of unease. Kira's singsong voice didn't greet her to consciousness. Instead, all Hoshi heard was a muffled mumbling coming from below. She crawled down from her bunk, wincing as the cold concrete touched her bare feet. Even in the dark of the room she was able to make out Kira's usually well-made bed was rumpled, Kira lying wrapped protectively in the plain white sheets. "Kira..?" She called softly.

In all the time she had been here she had never seen the woman's keen eyes closed longer than it took her blink. Kira made no indication that she had heard Hoshi. Peering closer to the woman, she noticed how her blond hair stuck to the edges of her face. Hoshi gently put her hand to Kira's forehead, unsurprised by the fever she felt as her hand touched Kira's skin. She nudged Kira's shoulder hoping to wake the woman, "Kira…Kira…you're sick we need to take you to the infirmary."

The woman's green eyes opened at this, "Yes, because that's always a good idea," she mumbled, laughing weakly.

Hoshi couldn't help the slight softness she felt for the woman. Even though Kira had always made her uneasy, the woman looked so vulnerable now. Regardless of what Hoshi's intuition told her about the woman, Kira was the only one here who had treated her with anything close to kindness. "Come on, you have a fever." Hoshi reached out, pushing the wispy blond hair way from her face.

"No, no, I'll be fine by morning." Hoshi was startled to hear a slight change in her accent, but account the change to the woman's fever. "Just leave me be," she pushed Hoshi's hand gently away.

Hoshi knelt beside the woman and shook her head, "You're almost as bad as Malcolm," she mumbled to herself.

"Oh, he's much worse than I ever was…" Kira's eyebrows cinched together as her eyes drooped closed again.

Hoshi froze, "What's Malcolm's last name?" she swallowed hard, waiting for an answer.

"Malcolm is a Reed," Kira mumbled, "unless, of course, you ask his father."

Tear's pricked expectantly at Hoshi's eyes, the reason, however, was unknown to her. Was it only the thought of him? Or was it that the thought of him brought with it an unyielding absence?

Hoshi took a deep breath and tried again, "Kira…" She grasped the woman's arm to pull her up to a sitting position. Before she could, Kira's hand pulled Hoshi's away, grabbing it with a crushing grip. Kira's eyes were open again, but she looked more aware than she had moments ago. "I will not go to the infirmary," as she spoke, her grip on Hoshi's hand tightened, her voice had lost any of the warmth it had, "Do you understand?"

Hoshi nodded, jerking away and out of the woman's grasp. She sat back on the cold floor watching the woman fall asleep.

Hoshi didn't quite understand what she had just learned. Kira knew Malcolm, but how? Malcolm had never mentioned her, or if he had Hoshi had forgotten. Kira simply wasn't someone she could imagine Malcolm ever knowing, there was an instability to her that made Hoshi constantly uncomfortable. The question that pressed hardest against her mind to be answered was why did he know her?

Kira started mumbling again, Hoshi sighed. If she didn't want treatment that was her choice, Hoshi had done all she could without physically dragging the woman to the infirmary herself. Which, Hoshi thought, Kira would have killed her for trying. "He's much worse than I ever was." Hoshi smiled sadly at the thought of trying to get Malcolm to go to Phlox's sickbay. Hoshi felt a familiar pain in her chest as she picked herself up off the floor and slid back into her bunk. Tears blurred her vision of the dark cell around her until she closed them, hoping to find sleep.

Hoshi woke up as the buzzer sounded down the hall. She swung her legs off the side of her bunk and jumped to the floor, glancing at Kira before changing into her uniform. "Are you alright? You were burning up last night."

Kira smiled sweetly, "Of course, little bird."

Hoshi whirled around, the anger she felt surprising her, "Stop calling me that." Kira combed her fingers through her long blond hair before fashioning it into a tight French braid. The frustration of unanswered questions bit a Hoshi. "How do you know Malcolm?" she asked accusingly.

"I'd say its long story, except that it's not really. Does it matter how I know him?" Kira smoothed out the wrinkles in her uniform and put on her shoes.

Hoshi closed her eyes, "It's not a coincidence that we're together." It wasn't a question.

Kira shook her head, "No. I recognized your name as one of the new inmates and used what influence I have to see that you'd be put in my cell."

Hoshi was beginning to feel increasingly nervous, "But why?"

"Because, little bird. Malcolm cared for you, and I will always protect what Malcolm loves."

=/\=