Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: 31 Jan 2004 10:07:54 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: daria@ameritech.net (Daria) 
 

Title: Loss

Author: Daria

Contact: Daria@ameritech.net

Series: ENT

Part: 7/8

Rating: [PG-13]

Codes: Tu, R, A 

Summary:  When an away mission goes wrong, a friendship is damaged,
Archive: ASC*

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, so naturally I'm not making
any money off them. Please do not link directly to this story without
asking.


***

"Archer to Reed."

"Reed here, sir." The voice on the other end of the intercom was
vaguely surprised. Clearly Reed hadn't expected Archer to be
contacting him while he was off duty.
 
"Malcolm, are you busy?"
 
"No, sir." Now the voice was decidedly puzzled. The captain knew he
was off duty, and had no pressing business.

"Then I'd like you to join me for lunch tomorrow at 1400."
   
"Aye, sir," Reed replied, still sounding unsure, but agreeing.

'One down,' Archer thought, well aware that he had just thoroughly
confused his armory officer. Well, that wasn't important right now.
  
"Archer to Tucker."

"Here, Captain."
 
"Trip, could you join me for lunch tomorrow? 1420?"
   
"Sure, Captain, but isn't that a bit late for lunch?"  Archer
suppressed a chuckle at the difference in responses from the two
officers. Whereas Malcolm, while clearly wondering about the late
hour, had simply agreed, unwilling to question his captain, Trip has
immediately pointed out the oddity.
  
"Captain's prerogative," Archer replied, grinning.  Then his smile
faded. Lunch was not likely to be much fun.  Perhaps he should make
sure he got a snack earlier, just in case no one actually ate.

***
  
Malcolm double-checked his uniform in the mirror, trying to make
himself presentable, ever the professional officer. He looked as well
as could be expected under the circumstances, he thought. The swelling
around his eyes was mostly gone, leaving just a little puffiness and
the fading bruises.  His jaw still ached some, but that bruise was
disappearing, too.  Most of the other marks on his face were gone or
healing, thanks to some of Phlox's unusual creatures.  The burns,
hidden under the uniform, were also nearly healed, helped by the
doctor's balms. His ribs still hurt, his toes were taped tightly up,
and his right hand was held rigid in an air splint.  He sighed. In all
honest truth, he looked a mess.  'Never mind,' he told himself.  The
captain was fully aware how he looked.  With one last tug at his
collar and a glance at the chronometer, he gave up. He snatched up the
padd containing his hull plating modifications, and hurried out.

***

"Malcolm, good to see you.  How are you doing?"
  
"I'm doing well, sir.  I'm healing nicely."
 
"That's great.  Have a seat. Chef will be in shortly.  I asked him to
make a nice variety of items."
  
"Thank you, sir. You shouldn't have gone to the trouble," Malcolm
said.  He was uncomfortable to be here in the captain's dining room,
and couldn't help but remember that the last time he had been in here
it had been the start of a very bad day.
 
"Nonsense." Archer either didn't notice or ignored his officer's
discomfort.  "I'll be having the same thing."  Reed was still
standing. Archer gestured him to a seat, and took one himself. When
the armory officer was settled Archer continued. "So... I imagine
you're starting to find it pretty boring to be off duty?"  Archer
deliberately avoided mentioning the oft-repeated request for more
simulations of the new upgrades. He had seen the padd in Reed's hand,
and was deliberately ignoring it. He didn't want to get pulled into a
discussion about the ship's security right now.
  
"Yes, sir." Reed's reply was heartfelt.
  
"Ready to get back to work?"

"Absolutely, sir."
   
"That's great, because I spoke to the doctor. He doesn't see any
reason you couldn't return part-time to duty--"
  
"That would be wonderful, sir!" Reed began enthusiastically, but
Archer cut him off by lifting a hand.
  
"Part-time, and only if you agree to very strict limits. No more than
three hours a day for now, and obviously nothing strenuous. He also
said to tell you to eat your vegetables," Archer grinned at the last.
"I think that was just general advice."   The captain didn't tell
Malcolm that he had gone to the doctor, and after some cajoling, the
doctor had reluctantly agreed to approve a limited return-to-duty for
the lieutenant.  Archer normally would not have pressured the doctor,
leaving medical decisions in the hands of someone better qualified to
make them, but he needed a 'carrot'. He was about to try to convince
Malcolm to do something he knew the armory officer wouldn't like, and
he needed an enticement.
  
"Excellent, sir."
  
"You promise no more than three hours? No sneaking in extra hours
during off shifts, or trying to find ways to work from your quarters?"
  
Malcolm flushed, and Archer knew he had been planning exactly those
sorts of manipulations.  "I'll behave, Captain. Scout's honor." They
both grinned at the inside joke.

"Good then. Oh, our meals here."  Archer reached up and took the bowls
of soup from the tray, handing one to Malcolm, and taking one for
himself.  He was happy to see Reed began to eat immediately. He had
suspected Malcolm wasn't eating well. The promise of returning to work
was already having a positive effect. Archer let him eat in silence
for a few minutes, watching from the corner of his eye, considering
what he was about to do one more time, wondering if it was the right
thing.  He was no psychologist, and wasn't certain if what he was
about to do would cause more harm then do good. It didn't seem
sporting to spring this on Reed.  He hadn't had adequate time to
recover, physically or psychologically, from the trauma on Dorlog. 
Perhaps if given more time he would recover from his anger on his
own... Archer mentally shook himself and strengthened his resolve;
there was no indication the situation was improving. Archer hoped that
having this conversation now, while the memory of the experience was
fresh, might make Malcolm more liable to appreciate the state of mind
Trip had been in.  Then again, it might just infuriate the armory
officer more. That was the crux of the problem; there was no way to
know for certain.  Archer had no training for this kind of situation;
he was going to have to improvise.

"Malcolm, we just have one more thing to discuss before you can return
to duty." Archer tried to keep his tone light, normal.  Reed glanced
up from his soup. Seeing the serious look on Archer's face, he put his
spoon down and faced him straight on.

"What issue?" he asked warily.
  
"Have you spoken with Commander Tucker?"
  
Reed's posture became rigid, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.
"No," he replied.  He offered neither explanation nor excuse.

"I didn't think so. Malcolm, I can't have my senior officers not
speaking to each other."
    
Reed drew in a deep breath, seemingly in an attempt to maintain his
calm. "Sir. I can work with Commander Tucker. I haven't had the need
to speak with him while in sickbay or my quarters. I assure you,
however, that I can and will deal with Mr. Tucker in a professional
matter."
  
"I'm sure you can, Lieutenant. But I'm afraid that won't cut it.  And
I'm not concerned only about your ability to deal with this situation,
but with Commander Tucker's.  This situation needs to be resolved to
my satisfaction before either of you can return to duty, so I've asked
Mr. Tucker to come by at 1420.  It's almost that time now.  I want to
get the air cleared. I'm not saying you have to resolve everything,
but this issue isn't going to go away, and frankly I'm not willing to
let it fester any longer."
  
"Sir!"  Malcolm had risen to his feet, seemingly unaware he had done
so. "I really must protest.  This isn't necessary..."

"It's not open for discussion, Malcolm."  Archer maintained an even
tone, meeting Reed's heated gaze calmly.  "You don't have to stay
here. I'm not ordering you. I'm just telling you that a condition of
returning to duty is having this conversation.  If you want to wait
until later, fine. It's your decision to make."

Malcolm continued to lock gazes with the captain, and Archer could see
the contained fury, but Reed's discipline held.  "Aye, sir, he replied
in a tone so cold it sent a chill down Archer's spine.
  
"So what do you want to do, Malcolm?  Talk now or later?"
   
Reed crossed his arms tightly over his chest, still managing to
smother his anger. He turned and looked out the viewing windows
without answering the captain. Archer waited. Finally, without
turning, Malcolm replied, "Now."
 
"Fine."

There was no time to say anything more.  The door to the mess chimed.
Malcolm's entire body stiffened even further, although how that was
possible, Archer didn't know.
    
"That's probably Commander Tucker. He doesn't know you're here. I'm
going to go get him. We'll be back in just a minute," Archer spoke to
Reed's back.  The captain went to the door, opened it, and stepped
through so quickly Trip didn't notice Reed inside. The engineer looked
vaguely surprised that Archer had come out rather than inviting him
into the dining room.

"Good afternoon, Trip. How are you feeling?" Archer greeted his
engineer cheerfully, but privately he was dismayed. Trip did not look
well. There were huge circles under his eyes, he looked as though he
had lost weight, and his hair was disheveled. More than that, though,
was the lost look he wore.

"I'm doing okay, Captain.  I really would like to get back to duty.
Need something to distract me..."
  
"I understand, Trip. And I want to put you back on duty. But buddy,
you don't look real good."
  
Trip deflated even further.  "Captain..."
  
"Don't misunderstand me, Trip. I want to get you back on duty as soon
as we can."  Archer paused, wondering if Trip were any more ready than
Malcolm for this, and then continued.  "There isn't any easy way to do
this, Trip.  I think you and Malcolm need to talk. He's in my dining
room.  He doesn't want to talk, but frankly, I'm not giving either of
you a choice anymore.  I'm not going to return you to duty until we
get everything aired out.  So, I want you to come in here with me
now."  Archer tried to ignore the panic that was dawning in Trip's
eyes. The engineer was shaking his head in negation.
 
"No, Captain, I can't do that. I can't face him. I just can't..."
  
"Trip, I know you don't want to do this. But if you can't do it for
yourself, think of Malcolm.  I won't let him return to duty until you
two talk. He wants to get back to work as much as you do.  This is
something you can do to help him out."
   
Trip still looked horrified at the idea, but he walked toward the
captain, squaring his shoulders as though preparing to face a firing
squad. "All right, Captain. I'll do it. I don't want to give him one
more reason to hate me."
  
Archer wanted to say something about how Malcolm didn't hate Trip--
but he couldn't make that reassurance.  He put a comforting hand on
Trip's shoulder. "Come on, Commander."  He activated the door, and
together they walked through it.

***
 
Malcolm heard the door open behind him, but he didn't turn. He
continued to stare at the stars speeding by.  It was a peaceful,
somehow soothing, view. Outwardly he was calm, collected. Inwardly,
his thoughts were agitated, churning. 'I can't believe the captain is
doing this to me,' he mentally ranted. 'Forcing me to talk to him...
after what he did. What the hell does he expect me to say?  I actually
considered him a friend. Friend. Right. What a fool I was.  And
Archer... won't leave well enough alone. I told him I would work with
Tucker, but no, that's not good enough for him...'

"Malcolm, would you join us at the table?" Archer asked.  The armory
officer didn't respond. The captain knew this was going to be
difficult for both men, and he had no intention of rushing them. If it
took all afternoon, then so be it.

Trip looked at the captain anxiously, and then at Reed's back. Archer
shook his head at Trip, indicating he shouldn't say anything.  He
waved the engineer to a seat at the now cleared table.  Reed still
hadn't moved, and Archer wondered how hard the armory officer was
working to maintain control. Archer decided not to push him.
  
"I'm going to have some more food brought in."  Archer went to the
wall console and called the crewman on mess duty.  Speaking through
the intercom while still watching his officers he requested that tea,
coffee, water, and some snacks be sent in.  He felt like he was making
arrangements for a long negotiating session-- and then realized that,
in essence, it was exactly what he was doing.

Malcolm still hadn't joined them at the table, but he had finally
moved. He had walked to the far end of the dining room, and turned to
walk back again, seeming unaware that he was pacing.  Archer could at
least see Malcolm's face in profile. Good enough for now. The captain
took his own seat, and let the lieutenant pace.  A few long, silent
moments elapsed before the door chimed, breaking the silence.  The
crewman brought in a tray of sandwiches and cookies and the beverages.
 He looked curiously at the three silent men, but knew better than to
say anything.  He hastily set up the refreshments.
 
"Will that be all, sir?"
  
"Yes, thank you, Sam.  We won't be needing you to check on us. I'll
call if we need anything more. I'll let you know when you can clear
the area."
  
"Aye, sir." The crewman acknowledged the orders and then quickly
retreated. The tension was so thick in the room that he was privately
grateful he didn't have to stay.

Archer grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee, eschewing tea for
the stronger beverage, and grabbed a sandwich.  He hadn't finished his
soup earlier, and he was still hungry.
  
"Help yourselves," he told them. "Trip, you haven't eaten lunch yet.
Dig in.  Malcolm, you didn't have time to finish your lunch. You must
still be hungry."
   
Trip took a plate and loaded it with food, and with trembling hands
poured himself a glass of water.  He shot several nervous glances at
the pacing armory officer before giving Archer a pleading look, his
eyes begging for help. Archer just shook his head again and waited
until finally Malcolm deserted his pacing and came to the table.
Wordlessly Reed picked up a plate and put some of the softer items on
it. After he poured a cup of tea he finally sat, making it a point to
position himself where he was as far from Trip as he could be, while
still able to keep his gaze on the stars streaking by outside the
ship.
  
Archer looked at the two younger men, took a deep breath, and dove in.
"All right, here's the situation. You both want to return to duty, and
I want you on duty. But I can't tolerate a situation where my senior
officers don't speak to each other, or..." he lifted a hand to stop
Reed's protest, "who are clearly uncomfortable working with each
other. I can't have you avoiding each other. The armory and
engineering departments work too closely together.  My senior officers
need to be able to make up a seamless team, to trust and rely on each
other--" Archer was interrupted by a small sound from Malcolm.  The
captain followed Reed's lead.

"Malcolm?"
   
"Sorry, sir. That just struck me as... funny."
  
"How so?"
  
"Trust?  Trust is something that is earned, Captain. Not blindly
given. It can be lost. People can't expect to be trusted just because
they wish to be."  He continued to stare at the racing stars while he
spoke, not acknowledging Tucker's presence.
   
Archer nodded slowly. "That's true. You have a good point.  But let's
get to the heart of the matter.  What, exactly, are you saying
Malcolm?"
    
"Sir, I can work with Commander Tucker. I can even take orders from
him.  But don't ask me to trust him."
  
Pain flashed across Trip's face. He dropped his head into his hands,
propping himself up on the table, but making no attempt to defend
himself.  Archer looked at his friend with understanding and concern.
He knew it was hard for Trip to hear this, but Malcolm needed to say
it, and Trip needed to know how Reed felt.  Trip's defense could come
later.
   
"You don't think you can trust Commander Tucker. Why not?"
  
"Why not? Why the bloody hell not?" Reed exploded.  "I think this is
sufficient reason," he said, waving his broken hand and pointing
vaguely toward his injured ribs.

"You hold Commander Tucker responsible for the injuries the Dorlogians
inflicted on you."

Reed gave a curt nod.

"Why? You didn't when you first got back to Enterprise."  Archer knew
why, of course, but he challenged Reed to express precisely what was
bothering him.
 
Malcolm replied with more vitriol than Archer had ever heard in his
armory officer's voice. "Why? WHY? Because he knew what was going to
happen, he knew, but he told me not to give them any information,
ordered me not to talk, even though he had. He made me made me think
it was possible to hold out against them when he knew it wasn't.
And...and....I don't know for sure, but somehow they knew I was a
weapons expert, which made the questioning even more fun."  He tossed
Trip a venomous glance, for the first time acknowledging that the
engineer was in the room.

Trip's head had dropped even lower, nearly resting on the table.  

"So.... let me see if I understand.  You agree it wasn't possible to
hold out forever against the Dorlogians, so you don't hold it against
Commander Tucker that he provided information to them, right?" Archer
spoke slowly, carefully.
 
Reed looked a little confused at this method of looking at the issue.
"No... I don't blame him for that."

"And, I think you'll agree that they most likely would have questioned
you regardless of anything Commander Tucker may or may not have told
them. Right?"

"Right," Malcolm replied, looking as though he expected a trap. 
"But..."

"Just a minute," Archer interrupted. "So, let's get to the core issue
then. What do you blame Commander Tucker for? Exactly."

"I blame him..."  Reed finally turned to face Trip.  "I blame you for
ordering me not to tell them anything. You knew I'd obey to the best
of my ability. You knew it was a standard YOU couldn't achieve, but
you.... how could..." He broke off, too incensed to continue.

Archer just waited for Reed to find the words he needed. He did. They
spilled out in a torrent as the armory officer again rose to his feet,
unable to remain seated.

"I blame you for telling them that I was a weapons expert.  For all
those things, but most of all for not telling me this right away,
yourself.  When we were in that cell, you wouldn't even speak to me. 
What did you think I'd be thinking?  What the hell did you think you
were doing?" Reed's voice had gone soft and dangerous.
   
Archer was taken off guard. He had long suspected that Reed was a man
of deep emotions, hiding them under a disciplined, taciturn exterior. 
The captain had occasionally even idly wondered what would happen if
all those emotions were unleashed. This display, though, was more than
he had expected, and while he thought he had considered all the
possible outcomes of this confrontation, Malcolm's rage was more than
he had anticipated. He wasn't sure he was competent to deal with it,
but it was too late for such considerations now. The fury was a
presence in the room with them.

"I see," Archer replied, trying to keep his voice quiet and steady,
hoping to calm the situation.  "Trip, do you--" but he was
interrupted. Apparently Malcolm was not yet ready to relinquish the
floor.

"How can you sit there and not know why?  Do you know what it's like
to hurt so much that you scream until you lose your voice, and then
keep screaming? Do you know what it's like to long for
unconsciousness? To wonder if pain can actually kill you? Do you
know--"
  
"Yes." Trip spoke for the first time, and his quiet voice broke
through Malcolm's tirade. Malcolm stopped mid-sentence and stared at
the engineer, surprised.
 
"What?"

"I said yes. Yes, I do know what it's like, Malcolm."

Reed seemed at a loss about how to respond to that.

"I was there too, okay? You know, you're not the only one they
questioned. No, they didn't injure me as badly as they did you.  I
didn't hold out as long as you. I'm sorry about that. I'm really,
really sorry about that. But I know what it's like to hurt, too. I
held out as long as I could."  There was anger in Trip's voice too,
and Archer was glad to hear it.  It was the first sign of any emotion
other than despair that Archer had seen in the engineer since his
return to the ship.
   
"Why Commander?  If you knew what they would do, why would you tell
them I was a weapons expert?  And why, later, didn't you..."  The
question, while not quite verbalized, was genuine and Malcolm's voice
cracked with anguish, for the first time betraying the emotions lying
beneath his wrath.

Archer was hit with a sudden realization, a lightning bolt of
understanding that jarred him with its impact.  He'd badly misread the
situation, had done so right from the start.  All of Reed's ferocious
anger, the seeming fury, was simply a disguise for his pain and grief.
Certainly there was anger too, but Archer had been fooled by the rage;
he simply hadn't realized how badly Malcolm was hurting, and he hadn't
recognized that it was this pain that was the source of the anger. 
Archer was willing to bet Trip hadn't seen it either.

"I don't know, Malcolm," Trip sighed. He dropped his head again, and
then lifted it with resolve, to face his crewmate straight on. "I
wasn't exactly thinking clearly, ya know?  I just wanted to make the
pain stop. They'd just burned me..." he shuddered and his voice choked
at the remembered pain. Malcolm shuddered too, with his own memories. 
Trip found his voice and continued.

"I had told them things. Things I shouldn't have. But I hadn't told
them everything.  Not the most important stuff.  But I was going to. I
knew I was going to tell them information that would really be bad to
tell, if they didn't stop, and.... I just..." he broke off and tears
came to his eyes. He blinked them back. His voice roughened, but he
managed to continue. "I thought.... I can't stand this any more. 
Maybe Malcolm can.  I thought you might be able to hold out longer.  I
knew I couldn't for one more minute.  To convince them to stop, I told
them you were a weapons expert. I didn't plan it. I was hurtin' so
bad, and just trying to not say anything really classified, and that
was all I could think of that might convince them to stop-- it just
popped out.  I didn't think it through. I didn't plan it. I'm sorry. 
I'm so sorry."

Malcolm sat back down, suddenly exhausted.  He tried to absorb Trip's
words. He could understand how that could happen.  He had been at that
point himself. If he was truthful, he couldn't say for sure that,
given the opportunity, he might not have done the same thing. But it
didn't explain everything. It didn't explain the most important
things.

"Why," he whispered, not trusting his voice, "did you tell me not to
talk? You practically threatened me not to..."

Trip raised his head again and met the armory officer's eyes squarely.
 "Because I knew you would take that seriously. And I knew you would
hold out for a long time, and that was best for Enterprise.  I'd
messed up, Malcolm, and I knew it.  I was scared. I thought... if you
didn't tell them anything, then my mistake wouldn't matter.  And... I
didn't want you to know that I'd given in.  At least, I think that's
what I thought.  It wasn't like I was very clear-headed right then."

Reed and Archer remained quiet,  stunned by Trip's admission.  Several
moments of silence passed. Then Trip broke it once again.

"I really didn't know it would get so bad for you. By the time I.... I
knew what they were doing, it was too late.  And then I thought they
might kill you, and it would be my fault. They killed that merchant
you know.  My mind went.... sort of numb. Fuzzy. I don't know.  When I
was back in the cell by myself, I could hear them hurting you, but I
really didn't remember what was happening.  I can't explain it.  Hoshi
and Travis came in, and I didn't care.  When you were brought to the
cell, I was so ashamed that I couldn't face you. I couldn't bear to
see what they had done, knowing it was my fault, my weakness that
caused most of it.  I didn't think about what that might seem like to
you. Then, I thought you knew what I did, and you were blaming me."
Trip paused, looking over at Reed, trying to gauge the armory
officer's reaction.

Reed remained still. Archer studied his pale face, a little worried,
wondering if he should say something.  Without warning, Malcolm rose.
He moved to the window and stared out, his back once more to them. 
After several minutes he spoke in a voice that was so quiet Trip, who
had lowered his head to the table, could barely hear him and had to
lift his head to catch the soft words.

"I thought you considered me a failure, because I told them things. 
Later, after the captain told me what happened, I thought you'd
betrayed me. To help yourself."

"I did," Trip replied, his voice desolate.

"No." Malcolm still hadn't turned away from the window.  Clearly he
was struggling with his emotions, and didn't want to let them view the
battle.  When he spoke again his voice was utterly weary. "You kept
faith, with Enterprise. You were trying to protect her. It might not
have worked out how you planned, but..." his voice trailed off, and
when he continued it was as though he was speaking to himself,
explaining to himself. "Any crewmember is expendable.  If... if that
was the only way you had to keep that information from getting out...
you did what you had to do."  He voice tightened with emotion and he
continued without turning.

"You should have told me. I'd have understood it like that, if you
hadn't ignored me.  Do you have any idea what if felt like to lie on
that cold stone floor, hurting so much... and to have my friend..." he
stumbled on the word, but continued, "my friend, and senior officer,
refuse to speak to me?  I didn't know what had happened to Enterprise,
what I'd done to her.  Hoshi and Travis were okay, and talking about
being released, so I finally realized the ship must be okay.  I
thought you were just disgusted that I'd been so weak.  I can't
believe you just let me think all that. Do you know what that did to
me?"

"I didn't. I do now. And I will never forgive myself for that part."
Trip's words were heavy with sorrow.

Malcolm nodded his head, acknowledging Trip's words, but still
apparently not trusting himself to turn around and face them. 
Malcolm's stiff posture told Archer that the armory officer remained
conflicted, and the captain could imagine the turmoil he must be
experiencing, seeing Trip's actions in a new light, but not ready to
forgive Trip for letting him blame himself.

Archer decided it was time to end this.  They had made real progress. 
If nothing else, each understood where the other was coming from. 
Archer suspected Malcolm had benefited more than the engineer. Trip
needed absolution, needed to see that the harm could be undone, but he
wouldn't be getting that today, Archer thought.  Malcolm surprised
him.  The armory officer turned to face them, and Archer wasn't
surprised to see that Reed's eyes were red. But there were no tears.
   
"Commander, you made a mistake telling them I knew about weapons, and
then giving me that order.  But I understand. You were trying to
protect Enterprise. I... I don't blame you for that."  Malcolm
stopped, gulped. Archer felt a wrenching of his gut as he realized
just how much this was costing the British officer.  "The other...
I'll have to work on that part."  He hesitated, as though he would say
more, but then just turned back to face the reassuring, calming stars.

Trip had remained seated throughout the conversation, but now he rose
and took a step toward the armory officer. His head was up, and there
was a look of relief and hope on his face.  "Malcolm... thank you for
understanding. And I'm so sorry..."

Archer spoke for the first time in several minutes, intervening before
Trip could say more.  The engineer didn't seem to understand that
Malcolm was walking an emotional tightrope as he tried to maintain
control. Now was not a good time to say anything else.

"Commander, you're dismissed. Return to your quarters and get some
rest. And take something to eat with you. Malcolm, I'm going to the
bridge for a little while. Feel free to stay here as long as you like.
 You can return to duty the day after tomorrow, part time as we
discussed."

"Why not tomorrow?" Reed asked in a low voice from his spot by the
window.

Archer studied the drained officer, knew how exhausted Reed must be.
"The day after tomorrow is soon enough. Get some rest."  Archer walked
to the door, and saw that Trip was still staring at Malcolm's back.
  
"Trip? Come on," Archer prodded, wanting to give Reed some space.
"Let's go."

Gathering some food and putting it on a plate, Trip shot one final
glance at the unmoving armory officer, and followed Archer out.  The
captain thought his friend looked a little better.

***

Trip returned to his quarters, his arms full of the variety of food
from the galley that the captain had insisted on loading him with. 
The captain had rightly guessed he hadn't been eating. Trip didn't
know if he'd be hungry or not, but he did know he felt a little
better.  He reached his cabin without incident, but then was abruptly
overcome with exhaustion. He dropped the food on a table, and made his
way to his bunk, lying down heavily, and staring at the ceiling,
exhausted but not sleepy.

It had been hard, nearly unbearable, to hear Malcolm bare his pain,
and point out where Trip was responsible.  At least Reed had come to
the realization that Trip had done the best he could-- as Reed himself
had done.  The armory officer's acknowledgement of that fact had
lightened the burden Trip had been carrying.  But it had also driven
home, painfully, the realization that much of this could have been
avoided if he had put aside his own regret and guilt and simply spoken
with his friend.  It was that action that had done the most damage,
and it was that action for which he had no excuse, not even to
himself. The irony was not lost on the engineer.  Malcolm might
forgive Trip for the physical suffering he had been forced to endure,
but it was going to be much longer before he forgave having been
abandoned to his pain and guilt.

Lying on his bunk, Trip berated himself.  He should have known, should
have given Reed more credit for his ability to understand the
situation on Dorlog. He knew Malcolm didn't have a lot of friends, but
was fiercely loyal to those he did have. To believe that one of those
friends didn't return that loyalty had to have been piercingly
painful.  If it was this that had been eating Reed up, fueling the
armory officer's fury, Trip could understand the anger.  He wished
again that he had had more faith in his friend's ability to
understand.  His own lack of faith had cost him Malcolm's trust.

Although Trip's guilt had been assuaged somewhat by the confrontation
in the captain's dining room, he still felt aching sorrow as he
realized what he had lost.

***

Malcolm limped slowly to his quarters.  He was hurting. His toes hurt.
His jaw hurt. His ribs hurt. But most of all, his mind hurt.  He had
been taken by surprise. He hadn't considered the reasons Trip might
have for behaving as he had.  He should have, but he'd been blinded by
the sense of betrayal, a hurt that had gone so deep he hadn't even
recognized it for what it was, taking refuge in anger instead. He
wanted to sleep now, but knew that was a futile hope. His emotions, so
rarely given free reign, had been loosed and now were running rampant.

He remembered how it had felt.  He had been hurting so badly as they
asked questions he couldn't answer.  As they were breaking his fingers
he had screamed until he thought his throat would burst.  When he had
turned his head away from them, not wanting to see his mangled hand,
his eyes had met Trip's.  Now, in retrospect, he realized what he had
seen-- not stern warning, as he had imagined then, but guilt and fear.
 Fear for Reed.  It didn't explain Trip's later behavior, but Malcolm
now realized that the engineer must have been in torment, consumed by
guilt.  He hadn't recognized Trip's pain.  In his own agony, it had
been easy to overlook what the engineer had suffered. 'He must have
been being eaten up inside since then,' Reed thought. 'In his
position, I'd be ready to throw myself out an airlock.'

Trip needed Malcolm's forgiveness.  Malcolm knew that, but wasn't sure
he could give it yet. For his words, yes.  He could understand that,
even if it had cost Malcolm dearly. Sometimes that happened in the
line of duty.  He could forgive the moment of weakness, the error in
judgment, if there had been any.  It was the silence afterwards that
he was having trouble excusing.

A part of Reed wanted to set things right, but every time he thought
about it, the anger and hurt welled up again.  The pain of those hours
of silence was still too fresh, too deep.  Every time Reed remembered
the Dorlogian cell, he remembered the isolation and fear, the time
spent wondering if he had somehow doomed Enterprise. He had borne it
alone, when it would only have taken a word from his friend to
alleviate his worries.

There it was again, that word 'friend'.  It was this word that plagued
him. How could a friend have behaved that way?

After Hoshi and Travis had left, he'd been so alone, and so
frightened. Trip had been there, but hadn't spoken. Hadn't even helped
him get a drink of water to soothe his parched throat. That had been
the worst of it all, knowing Trip could see him, knew how hurt he was,
and still wouldn't help him.  That had been more painful then all the
injuries combined.   No, Malcolm couldn't forgive that yet.

The meeting had accomplished the captain's main goal; it had cleared
the air, and he was no longer so furious with Trip.  He could work
with the engineer.  What he couldn't do-- wouldn't do-- was consider
the engineer a friend.  He would keep his feelings to himself. No one
would find him behaving in anything less than a professional manner. 
He would give his best efforts, and work with Commander Tucker every
bit as much as needed.  But he would not give back his trust.

Reed tried to lie down on his mattress, wincing at the pain in his
side and trying to find a more comfortable position. The doctor had
told him he'd been lucky the broken rib hadn't punctured a lung.  With
all due respect to the doctor, he didn't feel very lucky.  No, he felt
anything but that.  What he did feel was loneliness and loss.

***

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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