N.B.: This is an epilogue for the episode, “Minefield.” While the ep. had plenty of Reed, it didn’t have nearly enough Reed/Tucker, so this is an attempt at rectifying that in my own, small way. I wrote this at work, on my e-mail, the day after the episode aired, so any weirdness may be attributed to that. Hitchhiker’s Guide fans will get the title, others may wish to ask for an explanation. ~RB

It had only been a matter of time before Trip exploded. Malcolm had known it with a gut deep certainty. He was only surprised the man had held off this long.

"J'st what the hell were you thinkin'?! Didn't y' think how I'd feel about you killin' yerself??"

"I was trying to save you."

"Bullshit. You were tryin' t' be a hero! Unnecessarily, I might add. We managed j'st fine without you havin' t' sacrifice yerself."

"Barely."

"Don't talk back while I'm chewin' ya out."

There was a pause while Trip took a deep breath and sank to his knees in front of the seated Armoury Officer. He carefully stroked Malcolm's injured thigh, pushing back the memory of panic the sight of the bandaging caused.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd go on."

"No, I don't think I could."

"Yes, you could. And you would because you know I'd never forgive you otherwise."

"But..."

Malcolm gave his lover a stern look. "Would you really negate my sacrifice that way? What would be the point of my dying for you if you just stopped living afterwards?"

"I appreciate what you're sayin', Mal, but I need you to appreciate what I'm sayin' here. I really don't wanna have t' live without you. If there are no other options left, sacrificing yourself for the ship, for me, is a ... an acceptable solution. You gotta make sure there are no other options left first, though. You're far too eager to perform that sacrifice, Mal, an' it scares the hell outta me."

Malcolm had to look away from the intense blue eyes. "I ... just want my death to have meaning. They way my life never has."

The mattress sunk as Trip sat next to Malcolm, reaching out to turn the man's face to him. "Do you really believe that? That your life has no meaning?"

Malcolm just shrugged in response, looking down again.

"Then I haven't been doin' my job. The meaning of life is whatever you make it, Mal. I'd alw's rather hoped you'd make it me. I love you, you thick Brit."

"And I love you, you obnoxious Yank. More than I ever thought possible."

"Go on now. Make me blush."

"You are blushing."

"Am not."

"Yes, you are. Trip Tucker, blushing like a new bride. I like it. It's a good look for you."

"C'mre, you." Trip pulled Malcolm to him, lying back on the bed with the Englishman on top of him, and kissed him soundly.

When the kiss ended, Malcolm pulled back so that he was looking down on his blond lover. "So, you resort to underhanded tactics when the conversation gets out of control, do you? I'll have to teach you a lesson, Commander."

"You think you're capable of teachin' me a lesson with a gimp leg?"

"I'm quite confident of my abilities."

"Then, by all means, Lieutenant..." Trip shivered as Malcolm nipped at the underside of his jaw. "Teach me a lesson."

"Don't mind if I do."