Malcolm and Hoshi: The Missing Scenes

United

“Please come in.”

I look up from my meditation cushion, though I do not rise immediately.  I have initiated this visit, in what I can only describe to myself as a moment of weakness; for a moment I almost decide to tell Hoshi that her presence is not required after all, that I am too busy to talk, and that there will perhaps be a more suitable time for the discussion I proposed.

But that would be untrue, so I stay silent and rise, out of respect for a visitor, even though she is a human and a junior officer.

After all, we are sisters in this situation, both waiting helplessly for news that does not come, both doing our best to contribute to a struggle that every moment seems more fruitless.

“Please sit down,” I say, and point to the cushion opposite mine.  Trip sat on it during many of our neuropressure sessions.  She folds up more gracefully than he did.  She is always very graceful in her movements.

I have difficulty in deciding what to say next.  Vulcans are not used to indulging in ‘heart-to-heart talks,’ as I believe humans call such things.  But then, few Vulcans would be reckless enough to allow themselves to become addicted to Trellium-D.  Phlox warned me – kindly, but clearly – that emotions would be something I would have to learn to deal with as part of the payment for my actions.  For my weakness and stupidity, he could have said, but he is too kind for that.

She is looking puzzled by my hesitation, so I plunge in. 

“I hope you are not allowing yourself to become over-tired by the hours you are working.  Shift patterns are designed to achieve optimal operating efficiency.”

This is not what I had meant to say.  I wish to achieve some sense of fellow-feeling, not to make her feel she is being criticized for her efforts. 

“I’m fine,” she answers, pushing back a strand of hair that has escaped from its normal tidiness at some point during the day.

She is not ‘fine.’  I can see that.  Her exhaustion and frustration mirror my own, and she has had far less training and practice at controlling and concealing them than I have, but how telling that she has used that particular word.

“You are concerned for their safety: in particular, that of Lieutenant Reed.”

Color washes into her face.  I am not supposed to be aware of the fact that they have a relationship, and in fairness to them both I probably would not have been but for the fact that my V’Shar training has made me particularly observant.  Occasionally I have been close enough to one or the other of them to notice that their pupils enlarge when they lock eyes.  It is an involuntary response, but a revealing one. 

Strangely enough, it happens when Commander Tucker meets my eyes too.  It has been particularly evident ever since that evening when … when I allowed myself to act without fully considering the consequences for both of us.

I had no idea that he would imbue the occasion with as much significance as he did.  I had always been under the impression that his liaisons were fleeting and inconsequential.  I allowed myself to believe that as far as he was concerned, this would be just another of the same.

In that, I misjudged him utterly.

“I care about what happens to both of them,” she says levelly, at length.

“Ensign, I have not asked you to come here in order to pass judgment on your relationship.  You are both conducting yourselves in a professional manner, and as long as that continues to be the case I perceive no reason to interfere.”

“The captain knows about it.  That was pretty much what he said.”  There is a sense of defensive guards being lowered, at least somewhat; her posture remains tense.

I nod.  This is entirely in keeping with Captain Archer’s occasionally somewhat relaxed attitude towards regulations.  This attitude would not be appropriate on board a Vulcan ship, but it has to be admitted that it has fostered a degree of contentment aboard Enterprise. 

“I concur.  I believe that you and the lieutenant are able to maintain separation between your personal and professional lives.”  I swallow.  “I – I am in a position to … understand the difficulty you are experiencing.”

She blinks.  It takes perhaps half a minute for her to understand what I am trying to say.  Her eyes widen.

“You mean you … you and Trip?” 

I nod again.  It is too difficult for me to say anything.

Fortunately, Hoshi takes the initiative.  She moves the meditation candle carefully to one side, and then – much to my surprise – she hugs me.

I am not quite sure how to respond, but it will be ungracious not to do anything.  Tentatively I put my arms around her in return.  It feels strange, but it is surprisingly agreeable.  There is no logical reason whatsoever for the sense of comfort I receive from it; Trip is still missing, and fear for him still grips me like a vise.  But there is no doubt that this sudden odd sense of fellowship will be a source of strength to both of us in however many hours or days lie ahead before we can find the Romulan ship and rescue the men for whom we care so much.

“We will get them back,” she whispers.

“I’m sure of it,” I reply.  In actual fact I am nothing of the kind, but there is a fierce defiance in saying it that feels like hoisting a pennant against the wind.  It is not logical, but it feels agreeable, more than agreeable, in fact.

As Trip would say, It feels good.