Author: kalita
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Archive: Enterprise slash, WWOMB others by permission
Rating: PG15+
Disclaimer: I don't own them. They were born in other creative minds, but they keep intruding into mine, so what's a girl to do?
Spoilers: Shuttle Pod 1 - Mild
Summary: Malcolm realizes that there are some things that must be said and not put off until tomorrow - lest tomorrow never comes.
Authors Note: This fic is inspired by the scene in sickbay at the end of Shutle Pod 1 and also enhanced by the Garth Brooks/Ronan Keating song: If Tomorrow Never Comes. Particularly the following words...
If Tomorrow Never Comes
by kalita
Cause I've lost loved ones in my life,
Who never knew how much I loved them.
Now I live with the regret that my true feelings for them never were revealed.
So I made a promise to myself
To say each day how much he means to me
And avoid that circumstance where there's no second chance
To tell him how I feel.
(I changed the words she and her to he and him for the purposes of this quote.)
****
The dream was back. He was warm, and the insistent, steady beeping of a heart monitor roused him from sleep.
"We're back!" He struggled to sit up, but gentle hands on his chest pushed him down.
"Easy, Malcolm." It was Jon's voice.
Malcolm's heart constricted at the sound of it, and he looked into the captain's eyes, blinking in disbelief.
"You fellas had a nice little bout with hypothermia."
Malcolm gasped as memory returned. "The commander?"
"He's going to be fine," Jon said.
"It took nearly three hours to get your body temperatures back to normal," Phlox added.
"You must have seen the explosion." Malcolm let his head fall back against the pillow, closing his eyes as relief washed over him.
"Hard to miss," Jon nodded, "You know, you guys only had about two or three hours of air left."
"You don't say." Malcolm's eyes sought Jon's face again. "We saw debris from Enterprise on one of the asteroids." He looked into Jon's eyes. "We assumed." remembered pain welled up, and Malcolm paused. "We thought you were all." He pressed his lips together, fighting against the tears that threatened. The memory was sharp; like something viewed through a crystal cut lens. Every detail clearly defined.
~~Flash back~~
The grief tore at him, demanding that he feel it; acknowledge it, live it - but he couldn't. It was too raw, and too fresh, a bleeding open wound that he dare not look at too closely for fear that it would plummet him into an abyss from which he could not escape.
He wouldn't think about it now. Not now. Not with Tucker here to watch, and see how much - oh how he had loved him.
He did anything he could to keep his mind off it. He wrote letters, words of farewell to everyone but the one he most needed to say goodbye to. He couldn 't do that; wouldn't do that. Writing that letter would make it real. No. He wouldn't do that.
So he wrote letters to others. People he had not even thought of for many years. Pseudo farewells to loved ones that helped him to verbalize some of the deeper feeling behind his sentiments.
"What's your problem with having a little hope?" Trip asked.
He didn't have any hope. Jon was dead, and there would never be a chance to tell him how he felt.
He denied wanting to die when Trip confronted him. But he did. He wanted to cease to exist, to fade away and forget the aching, the hopeless grief that tore at his heart and made every breath, every thought, a living nightmare.
I lost nearly everyone I cared about - on that ship. Those girls I talked about, Rochelle, Deborah, Caitlin - none of them worked out because I could never get close to them. Never got very close to my family either for that matter - Not that it's any business of yours. But with the crew of the Enterprise it was different.I was really starting to feel comfortable with them - and now the only one that's left thinks I'm the bloody angel of death!
He hadn't meant to cry - not in front of Charles Tucker, but the tears came unbidden though he fought to contain them. Jon.Jon was gone, lost to him forever. For a moment the black despair loomed larger and more enticing, but he managed to push it back again.
~~Now~~
"I'll tell you all about it in the morning," Jon said. He patted Malcolm on the shoulder and turned to walk out of the sickbay, leaving Malcolm behind.
Stop! Wait! Malcolm's mind cried out. Don't leave me here alone! I have to tell you.
If this was a dream then even this, it seemed, would rob him of the chance to tell Jon all that was in his heart. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't lose Jon again, why couldn't he just die and be released from the suffering?
~~Flash Back~~
He remembered the message from Enterprise. The brief elation all too short lived when they realized they didn't have enough air to stay alive until the ship arrived.
Ironic really. He lost the man he loved, only to find out he was alive - to subsequently realize that he would die before they ever saw one another again.
That's the galaxy - laughin' at us. Trip said it so aptly.
The galaxy laughing at him, at Malcolm Reed who was foolish enough to think he would ever find lasting happiness. It was just another tomorrow that would never come for him.
~~Now~~
There was a way he could be sure if this was all a dream. "Sub Commander."
T'Pol turned to look at him. "Yes."
"Isn't there something you're supposed to say to me?" She had talked to him in the dream last time, told him she admired his courage; kissed him. Malcolm still puzzled over that. Jon was the one he wanted. He didn't crave the kisses of a woman, any woman.
"About what?" T'Pol maintained her usual dispassionate countenance.
"Heroics," he whispered, "something about heroics." He studied her face, watching for the slightest flicker of change but the Vulcan merely raised an eyebrow at him.
"Goodnight, Lieutenant."
As she left, Malcolm smiled. It wasn't a dream after all.
He closed his eyes, some part of his mind still caught in the immediate past. Reliving the despairing hours as they waited for death to claim them, gradually losing hope that Enterprise would reach them in time.
~~Flash Back~~
He fought Tucker when the commander decided to climb into the airlock and seal himself in. Even in the face of their hopelessness, he refused wait for the return of Enterprise with a dead man in the airlock. No matter how much he longed to see Jon again, he wouldn't allow Tucker to kill himself so that he could live.
I've invested far too much time trying to figure you out, Mister Tucker. I'm not about to accept that it was all for nothing!
Cold.so cold, he couldn't remember a time even in the depths of an English winter that he had felt that cold.
Trip succumbed to the cold and hopelessness first; he drifted into unconsciousness despite Malcolm's best efforts to keep him alert.
Give up, Malcolm.they're not gonna get to us in time. It's too late.
You're the one who was telling me to have hope, Commander.y-y-you going to give up on m-me now? After all this?
No use.Malcolm.I'm tired.lemme sleep.
Malcolm wrapped them both in the blankets; held Trip as close to him as he could and fought to stay awake, but it was a hopeless battle. The cold seemed to get inside his bones. He trembled so violently he could barely breathe. The last sound he remembered hearing was the helpless chattering of his own teeth, and in the end it was easier just to let go, to drift, to forget.
~~Now~~
Malcolm sighed as T'Pol stepped through to doors of sickbay and Phlox dimmed the lights. He was home, tomorrow had come, and he would have a chance to tell Jon of his feelings.
(2)
Jon sighed as he walked along the hallway towards his cabin. He had admired Malcolm for some time since the beginning of their mission, but had never found the courage to speak of his feelings. It was just not done. Senior officers could not fraternize with subordinates; regulations were firm on that score.
When Enterprise finally reached the shuttlepod, the situation was grim. Trip and Malcolm had not responded to hails and if it had not been for the explosion they wouldn't have reached the stricken craft in time at all.
Jon walked into his cabin and sat down at his desk, taking Porthos into his lap as the beagle came to greet him. He sighed remembering the sight that met their eyes once the pod was brought aboard and opened.
Malcolm and Trip huddled together, wrapped in two thin blankets. Both men were unconscious, their skin deathly pale with frost settled all over them. For a moment Jon feared the worst, but Phlox reported they were alive.
Removing them from the shuttlepod was a delicate operation. Phlox warned that any jolting could be fatal as it may send their hearts into dangerous arrhythmias. They were carried out on stretchers one at a time by medical teams who were careful not to shake them in any way.
Jon had followed to the sickbay, hovering over the two officers, and plaguing the doctor with questions until Phlox politely asked him to leave.
Faced with no choice but to heed the doctor's orders, the captain had returned to the bridge where he brooded until Phlox contacted him with the news that Malcolm was coming around.
Captain Jonathan Archer needed all the iron resolve at his command to restrain himself from snatching Malcolm Reed into his arms and kissing him when the younger man almost broke down as he told them of how he and Trip had assumed that the crew of Enterprise were dead.
He watched as soft, gray eyes filled with tears; noted the struggle as the lieutenant fought to contain the emotion. It caused a twist of pain in his own heart when Malcolm's voice hitched on the words "We thought you were all."
He wished that the feeling had been for him alone; that it was the thought of his death that could cause Malcolm such grief. Jonathan would have to content himself with the thought that Malcolm had been grieved at all though; it was just too much to expect that the young Englishman had meant Jon's loss would pain him that way.
Porthos whined softly and licked Jon's face and the captain smiled, looking into the warm brown eyes of his beloved companion. "It's all right, fella," he murmured. "Everything's going to be all right."
(3)
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed woke early the following morning. He was reassured to find himself still in the sickbay; the soft beeping of the heart monitor telling him that he really was back aboard Enterprise. He sighed looking to the side to find that Trip was awake as well. He smiled. "Good morning," he said softly.
"We made it." Trip's voice was soft as he turned to look at Malcolm in silence for several moments. "Thanks."
Malcolm shook his head. "No need to thank me," he replied, "We just got lucky."
"Why did you stop me?" There was no need for Trip to explain what he meant. The question hung in the air between them for several seconds.
Because you're his best friend, and I didn't want to watch him lose you. Malcolm thought. He shrugged after a moment. "I told you, I didn't want my efforts in figuring you out to be wasted," he said, and then he smiled slightly, looking at Trip. "Besides, I didn't fancy sitting there for God knows how many hours with a corpse in the airlock over my head."
Trip nodded and looked away. "I'm glad you did," he said softly.
"So am I."
The two men fell silent, and a few minutes later, Jonathan Archer walked into the sickbay. "Well, hello you two!" he said cheerfully.
"Cap'n!" Trip struggled to sit up. "Can't ya talk to Phlox? He won't let me outta here, and you know I can't stand sickbays!"
Reed smiled, noting the light of relief that gleamed in Archer's eyes as the captain watched Trip trying to get up.
"I'm sure the doctor won't keep you here a minute longer than necessary, Trip." Jon turned to Malcolm as he spoke. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better, sir." Malcolm smiled slightly. "It's very good to be warm again."
"I'm sure it is."
"Sir," Malcolm met the captain's eyes. "What happened? The debris."
Jonathan smiled and pulled a chair forward, setting it midway between the two beds as he brought the two of them up to date with what had happened to Enterprise while they were away.
(4)
Two Days Later
Malcolm walked along the hallway towards the captain's cabin. He was off duty, clad in a casual shirt and a pair of white trousers that fit themselves to his narrow waist and hips, outlining the contours of his body with much greater definition than the dark blue jumpsuit he usually wore on duty.
As he approached Jon's door he swallowed nervously and passed his tongue across dry lips. He had decided that he couldn't wait for another tomorrow. He couldn't take the risk that it might not come. He intended to tell Jon of his feelings. He knew he risked being utterly rejected, but that didn't matter. He was prepared to take that risk.
He paused at the door for a moment, composing himself before he touched the door chime with a finger.
"Come in," Jon's voice called and Malcolm took a deep breath, smoothing his hair with one hand before he touched the door control to open it.
"Malcolm!" The captain turned in his chair, and then got to his feet. He smiled broadly.
Reed's breath hitched in his throat at the sight of that smile and he very nearly lost his nerve; only his years of training served to keep him standing there. He met the captain's eyes for a moment, almost lost in their incredibly green depths before he managed to shake himself out of the spell that had come over him.
Jonathan was saying something, Malcolm hadn't heard all of it, but he hoped it was an offer of a drink or something as he muttered, "Yes, please."
"Take a seat," He must have got it right. Jon moved to the small refrigerator and opened it, rummaging about until he came up with the bottle he sought. "I haven't got any bourbon," he shot Reed a mischievous grin. "Someone drank my last bottle."
Malcolm chuckled and returned the grin suddenly feeling more at ease. "It was a good bottle, too." He watched as the captain poured the liquor into two small glasses. Jon must be at least six feet tall, Malcolm estimated, yet he moved with a fluid ease that would normally better befit a smaller man. The lieutenant let his eyes travel downwards over Jon's physique, taking in the toned musculature visible even under the shirt and trousers he wore.
He accepted the proffered glass with a nod of thanks lowering his eyes as the captain moved to sit opposite him at the table.
"What can I do for you, Malcolm?"
Taking a quick sip of the liquor, Malcolm glanced into those mesmerising eyes again and then looked away. "There is.something I need to tell you.sir." He was not sure he could go so far as to call the man by his first name, even off duty.
Malcolm bit his lip, steeling his courage as he looked up into Jon's eyes. "When we were.on the shuttle, I realized something. I."
"Malcolm?" The captain leaned forward a little, studying his face and Malcolm held up a hand.
"Please, sir, don't say anything I.I just needed to tell you I." He gulped, raising the glass to his lips once more, letting the alcohol sear his throat and center him a little with its biting heat. "I." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and lifted his chin.
"I realized that I couldn't bear to . to die without ever telling you how I felt."
Jonathan shifted in his seat. A strange expression came over his features, and Malcolm felt his heart sink. He took another deep breath. "Cap.Sir.Jon." He met the other man's eyes. "Jon, I find you incredibly attractive. I will understand if you don't return my feelings, I know that not everyone is.is." He sighed with exasperation, becoming irritated with his fumbling. "God! I didn't expect this to be so."
"Malcolm." Jon spoke so softly that Malcolm was forced to look up, unsure if he had heard right. The way the captain said his name. It was different somehow. There was a gentle cadence that hadn't been there before.
He stared into green eyes that had suddenly grown soft and inviting, causing his breath to catch in his throat again. He started as a large, warm hand closed around his own on the table. A thumb caressed the back of his hand and Malcolm was hard pressed not to moan at the sensation.
Jon applied gentle pressure to his hand, slowly drawing him out of his seat around the table until he was on his knees in front of his captain. He raised his eyes to the older man's face and sighed softly as powerful arms went around him, pulling him closer before his lips were trapped by a warm, sensual mouth that possessed and explored him until he was whimpering under the tender assault.
Malcolm lifted a hand and let his fingers graze across Jon's cheek, silently inviting a deeper exploration of his mouth as he parted his lips to the captain's tongue. He released a shuddering breath as the invitation was eagerly accepted, Jon's tongue sliding into his mouth, meeting and sparring with his own. Malcolm groaned and sucked on the invading tongue as a groan of longing came from somewhere deep in his throat.
They broke apart several moments later, panting feverishly. Their eyes met and locked in a long, searching gaze before the captain gripped Malcolm's hands and pulled him to his feet, drawing him close in the same movement and taking possession of his mouth again.
Fingers worked the buttons on Malcolm's shirt, slowly unfastening them. He gasped against the older man's mouth as nails ghosted across his skin, two strong hands gripping his sides, running downwards to clasp his buttocks and pull him hard against the burgeoning need.
Malcolm whimpered, tearing his mouth free as he stripped the captain of his shirt so that he could explore the powerful chest of his chosen lover. He felt the answering ache of desire in his own groin as he ground his hips against Jon, letting the other man know that his desire was answered 100 fold by the younger man's body. He leaned in close, trailing his tongue across the exposed skin of the older man, circling a nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling hungrily.
As he sucked Jon's nipple, Malcolm raked his fingernails downwards over the captain's belly until his fingers hooked into the waistband of the casual pants Jon wore. He pushed them down, careful not to catch the fabric on the swollen organ that strained to be released from the confines of clothing.
Slowly, the younger man allowed his mouth to follow the earlier path of his hands, bending his knees until he knelt before Jonathan and looked up to find faintly bemused green eyes following his every move. He smiled slowly, letting the warmth of it reach his eyes before he reached for Jon again, freeing the man's weeping cock from his pants.
The organ was long and thick. The surface heavily veined with the throbbing need that Malcolm could feel pulsing against his hand as he held the member for a moment before he leaned in, lathing it gently with his tongue.
"Malcolm?" Jon's voice was a desperate gasp as strong fingers curled into his hair.
Malcolm looked up. "I want this," he said softly. "Let me."
Jon's fingers relaxed a little and Malcolm leaned forward, touching the tip of his tongue to the tiny bead of clear fluid at the tip of Jon's cock. He pulled back, letting the fluid stretch between the tip of his tongue and the older man's member in a fine string, revelling in the shuddering groan of need that the sight elicited.
Jonathan groaned again as Malcolm moved to take the tip of his swollen cock into his mouth. He thrust forward involuntarily as the younger man's tongue made maddening little circles around the head of his member, flickering across the tip and pausing to delve into the tiny, sensitive opening, teasing him until he thought he would go insane.
"Malcolm!" he growled, tightening his fingers into soft, dark hair and then relaxing as the younger man obediently stopped teasing and began to suck with long, steady strokes that drew the fire in his loins to a fever pitch again.
The younger man was obviously experienced and skilled at how to stimulate a man, it didn't take long before Jonathan cried out with pleasure and released his seed into the Brit's mouth. Afterwards, he sank down on his knees and pulled Malcolm into his arms, kissing his forehead tenderly as he wrapped his arms around the dark haired man.
"God.that was amazing," he whispered. "You're amazing."
Malcolm nuzzled his chest, his warm breath caressing Jonathan's skin as he chuckled lightly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he murmured.
"We're going to get chilled here." Jonathan slowly got to his feet, drawing Malcolm up by holding his hand. "Would you like to move this to the bed?"
Malcolm's eyes told Jon the answer, even though the younger man seemed unable to speak for the moment. They moved to the bed, Malcolm shedding the last of his clothes along the way.
Jonathan drew the armoury officer into his arms and pulled the coverlet over them. He marvelled at the way Malcolm's body seemed to mould so naturally to his own. It was almost as though they'd been doing this for years. He smiled, resting his chin on the top of Malcolm's head. "I'm glad you decided to tell me how you feel." He murmured. "I've been dancing around the issue for months."
"Really?" Malcolm pulled back a little in Jon's arms and looked into the captain's eyes. "I never would have guessed." He smiled. "And I thought I had you all trumped when it came to hiding my feelings."
Jonathan smiled into softly gleaming gray eyes as he allowed his hands to wander over Malcolm's body. "Until you came here tonight, I had no idea either," he told the lieutenant. The captain smiled as Malcolm gasped and squirmed when his fingers closed around his cock. "I think it's going to be a lot of fun teaching you to let your feelings show." He stroked the younger man's organ and laughed as Malcolm groaned softly. "A lot of fun."
End