“I know you’re there! Git outta them shadows an’ face me like a man, dammitt! Let me see you!”

His bellowing was rewarded. The darkness shifted and twisted, coalescing into the shape of a man, into Malcolm Reed. Trip released his breath explosively. He drank in the sight of Malcolm. The slight Englishman was clad in a black catsuit, perfect for skulking in dark corners, perfect for showing off every inch of his incredible body.

“Mal! What were y’ doin’ hidin’ fer so long?”

“I was watching you, trying to assess your condition.” He shook his head, a few stray locks of dark hair falling forward. “I don’t know how I’m going to move you like this. My original plan was rather contingent on you being able to walk.”

“I c’n walk,” Trip protested, making an attempt to stand. He was stopped by Malcolm’s hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t be stupid, Trip. If you try to move you’ll just make things worse for yourself.” He started to move away, but Trip managed to grab Malcolm’s hand with one of his own.

“Mal?”

“Yes, Trip?”

“Mal, I ... I shoulda said this before but ... Mal, I love you.”

The other man smiled, blue eyes sparkling. His face hovered mere centimetres above Trip’s own, and he said, “And I love you.” Their lips met in a gentle kiss before Malcolm firmly pulled himself away. “You definitely should have said that before. I’d love to stay and ... discuss this with you, but I need to get back to Enterprise and work on plan B for getting you back.”

Trip whimpered as the Armoury Officer moved back into the shadows, protesting his abandonment. “Mal!”

The man paused, half enveloped by the shadows, and turned to offer reassurance. “Shh... Take it easy, love. I’ll be back. I won’t leave you here, but I need help.” He hesitated slightly. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Trip echoed as Malcolm vanished back into the darkness.

Slowly, he became aware of the sound of people shouting and running. As the noise grew closer he thought he could make out the sound of weapon’s fire. Malcolm had come back for him. This time with reinforcements and armed to the teeth.

Suddenly, there was a shower of sparks as someone blew out the forcefield generator, and then Malcolm and Jon were at his side. T’Pol and two security men guarded the entrance to Trip’s cell while Captain and Armoury Officer looked over the Chief Engineer.

“Knew you’d come back for me, Mal,” said Trip. “Plan B seems to be workin’. Though,” he attempted a grin, “I’m a mite disappointed to see you changed outta that catsuit.”

“Plan B? Catsuit? I don’t understand, Commander.” Malcolm shook his head, perplexed, and looked to Archer for help, but the other man was just as confused as he.

“You know, when you were here before, when I told you that I love you.”

A moment of shocked silence followed. Malcolm sucked in a deep breath, his face turning red under the pressure of the captain’s startled gaze and Trip’s pleading one. He collected himself and said carefully, “Commander, I wasn’t here before. This is the first time I’ve been planetside since you were abducted. You must have been hallucinating because of your concussion.”

“Hallucinatin’?” Trip took in, then, the embarrassed expression on the other man’s face, and knew that Malcolm was right, he had been hallucinating. Malcolm didn’t really love him. It had all been a product of his own mind; the same old fantasies only more real. At least, it had seemed real.

Trip let his eyes slide shut, barely noticing when Jon ordered T’Pol over to help him carry his friend, sending Malcolm to cover their backs with his men. Tears began to build behind his eyelids, and he scrunched them tighter in an attempt to hold in the moisture. It was a futile gesture; he could feel the brine making tracks down his face as he was carried to the shuttlepod.

Phlox was waiting in the pod for them, and immediately set about seeing to Trip once he was carefully laid out in the back of the pod. If anyone had noticed the tears, no one said anything about them. Still, Trip was grateful when Phlox injected him with something that robbed him of consciousness as well as his pain.

He supposed that his friendship with the reclusive Englishman was now effectively toast. The man hadn’t come to visit him, so he must have been pretty well spooked by Trip’s avowal of love. Trip sighed heavily. If only he hadn’t been such a fool, he could have, at least, enjoyed fantasies of Malcolm coming in and fussing over him while he was laid up. Now, even those were spoiled for him, as he saw them for the pure fiction that they were.

Angrily, he tossed the PADD he was reading down onto his nightstand. Why had he had to be so anxious for his concussion-generated hallucination to be real that he hadn’t questioned it? What sort of fool was he anyway? He snorted because he knew the answer to that question: He was a lovesick fool, no doubt about it.

The door chimed, breaking in on his self-recrimination. Dispiritedly, Trip called for his visitor to enter, and was taken aback when a jittery Malcolm Reed walked through the door.

“What do you want?”

Something that could have been hurt flashed across the Brit’s face, and he replied, “Oh, um, I ... I need to talk to you, Trip.”

“Yeah, what about?” the blond asked, though he suspected he knew the answer. The Englishman was, no doubt, disturbed by Trip’s confession and was hoping to be told that it had all been a product of the engineer’s fevered mind.

“Um, well, you said,” Malcolm began, getting right to the point, “when we rescued you from the Kayeklopian prison that ... that you loved me, and I was ... I was wondering ... well, I just wondered if you really meant it, like as in romantically, you know, a-as opposed to brotherly, like with the captain.”

To this, Trip responded with a peeved expression and his best impression of a pissy teenager. “I was beaten and delirious, Malcolm, what do you think?”

“Ah, I ... I thought as much, really. It was silly of me to think that you could love me like that. I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Hoshi, o-or Travis even. Someone open and capable of..,” Malcolm swallowed and took in a deep breath, wetting his lips. “P-please excuse me. I ... I really ought to go.” He turned and bolted from the room.

It only occurred to Trip what was really going on when the door slid shut behind the other man. “Malcolm!” he called out desperately, to no avail. “Shit. Sonovabitch! Trip, you idiot...!” Malcolm hadn’t come looking for an escape from what Trip had said in that prison, he had come looking for confirmation. And Trip had just broken his heart.

“Fuck!”

Trip kept muttering obscenities to himself as he stumbled out of bed, snagging his bathrobe with one hand as he darted into the corridor, intent on catching up with Malcolm. Despite the fact that he knew Phlox would have kittens when he found out, Trip ran head-long down the corridor toward Malcolm’s quarters. He knew that the sooner he apologised, the better off he’d be, and he was spurred on by visions of Malcolm fussing over him and his abused ribs afterwards.

He jolted to a halt in front of the other man’s quarters and activated the chime insistently. No response was forthcoming. After the third crewman walked by, giving the barefoot, bathrobe clad commander a perplexed look, Trip decided to throw caution utterly to the wind and used his override to let himself into Malcolm’s quarters.

Malcolm had been sitting on his bed, but was on his feet in an instant as Trip strode into the tiny room. His face had gone all red and blotchy, tears streamed freely down his cheeks, and his breathing came in ragged gasps. In short, he looked like hell, like his heart had just been pulverised, as a matter of fact.

Knowing that he would probably only dig himself in deeper if he tried to speak right now, Trip walked straight up to Malcolm and pulled the smaller man into his embrace, kissing him soundly. The Armoury Officer struggled weakly, but Trip just held him tighter. When the dark haired man finally surrendered, relaxing into the embrace, the engineer ended the kiss.

Trip simply gazed at Malcolm for a moment and then began to kiss the tears from his face. In between contacts, he started in on the verbal section of his apology. “I’m ... so sorry, Mal... I didn’t think that ... you wanted me... I was stupid ... and worse yet ... I was unkind... Please forgive me.”

Blue eyes searched blue eyes, and Trip was suddenly given his answer. One of Malcolm’s hands buried itself in short blond hair, pulling Trip’s head down to meet his own. Their lips met for a second time, and the Brit’s other hand found its way to the small of the Southerner’s back, pulling him closer.

Trip wished it would go on forever, but his ribs did not, unfortunately. He flinched involuntarily, and Malcolm pulled away abruptly.

“Oh God, Trip, your ribs... I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he spoke for the first time since Trip had entered his quarters, worry evident on his features.

Trip shushed him, not wanting to spoil the moment too much. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Mal. I reckon I probably jostled ‘em plenty when I ran over here.”

“You ran down the corridor? Looking like that?” A smile tugged at the corners of Malcolm’s mouth. “What a sight that must have been. You realise, though, don’t you, that Phlox is going to kill you if you’ve upset the set he put on your ribs?”

“Yup, but I figured that gettin’ scolded by the doc was better’n lettin’ you waste away of a broken heart.” Trip looked at the other man with affection and wonder in his eyes. “I love you, Malcolm Reed. I am in love with you.”

Malcolm blushed to the tips of his ears and replied, “Well, I love you, even if you are a blockhead sometimes.” Trip playfully kissed the end of Malcolm’s nose, enjoying his love’s flustered pleasure. “Come on,” said Malcolm. “Let’s get you to Sickbay, have Dr. Phlox make sure your ribs are all still in place. When he’s done with you, we can head back to your quarters, and I’ll play nurse for a while. Alright?”

“Sounds more’n alright, sounds heavenly.”

Trip allowed Malcolm to usher him out of the room, suddenly quite certain that he was going to thoroughly enjoy being an invalid.