Malcolm and Hoshi: The Missing Scenes

Affliction Part 2

There was a kind of peace in despair.

Lieutenant Reed stared at the wall of the Brig and blinked back the shameful tears that he hadn’t wanted Captain Archer to see welling in his eyes.

Traitor!

The contempt in the blazing hazel eyes had been unbearable. “You’ve betrayed everything that uniform stands for.”

It was over.  Everything he cared about was over.  Trip had gone, his career was history and he’d be lucky to get fewer than ten years in prison for this, though at this present moment that was the very least of his concerns. 

He’d lied to his captain – looked him in the face and lied to him, and thereby betrayed a trust that had been absolute.  He knew that before today, Archer would have taken his part against any accuser without a second thought.  Well, that was over too.  Malcolm Reed, liar and traitor, was exposed and condemned.  Jonathan Archer, deceived where he’d most trusted, could neither comprehend the incomprehensible nor forgive the unforgivable.  He could not.  He should not.  He would not.

The countermeasures he’d had to take against discovery were not enough to save him indefinitely; in his heart of hearts he hadn’t wanted them to be.  It was only to be hoped that nobody would notice that by the standards he’d learned in the Section they were pitiful, practically leading a trail to his door.  He’d done what he’d had to; he’d delayed the ship and allowed the kidnappers to escape.  Now he’d wanted only the axe above his head to finally fall and have done with it, so that he would no longer be a tool aboard Enterprise that Harris could use at will.

“Their tradition of honour and service.” A tradition he’d sworn to uphold as his family’s menfolk had for generations, disregarding the fact that the ship he served in sailed among the stars instead of across Earth’s oceans.  And by the bitterest irony, he was actually doing so.  Nobody but he and Harris would ever be aware of that fact, however.  As far as the rest of Starfleet would be concerned – as far as his family would be concerned – he was that lowest of the loathsome: a traitor to his ship.  He’d told the captain he didn’t know what his father would make of hearing that he was to be court-martialled; that wasn’t exactly the truth either, but perhaps lying was becoming a habit.  He had a very good idea what his father would make of it.  I always knew the boy was a damned weakling, but I didn’t think even he’d sink to this.  There would be no word of support.  There would be no support.  He would be alone.  They would never refer to him again.  If he ever so far mistook his value as to write to any member of his family, his letters would be destroyed unopened.  Stuart Reed would see to that.

The outer door of the brig opened.  He didn’t turn, or even look around.  It would only be some MACO bringing him food, and right now he couldn’t care if he never ate again.

“Malcolm?”

Oh, Christ, no!  He almost shrieked the words aloud as the familiar, beloved voice spoke. For pity’s sake, couldn’t the captain have kept her away, kept her out of this? What had she done to be put through the mill?  Nothing, nothing at all, except fall in love with the wrong man.  A man who’d thought he could outrun his past, escape his darkness, and forget an older loyalty than Enterprise and Captain Jonathan Archer.

“Go away, Hoshi.”  He spoke into his up-drawn knees, hugging them desperately.  “Don’t talk to me.  Just get out of here.”

“Malcolm, this has to be a mistake.”  Her voice was raw with tears; the sound of it lacerated him. Don’t cry, Hoshi, please don’t cry, not for me, I’m not worth it.  “They’re saying you’re a traitor, but I know you’re not.  You’re protecting somebody, I know you are.  Tell them the truth.  For God’s sake, tell them the truth!”

“It IS the truth!” It emerged as an almost animal howl.  “Hoshi, I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’m a lying bastard, and I should never have laid a finger on you.  Just get the hell out of here and forget you ever met me!”

“MALCOLM!”  She was hammering on the glass and screaming at him.  “You’re not a traitor, you’re not, you’re not!  I won’t believe it!”

The sound of her desperate and misplaced devotion broke him.  He spun around with the despised tears washing down his face, and kicked away the last hope of happiness he had.

“Then you’re wrong, Hoshi.  I’m a liar.  I’m a traitor.  I concealed evidence.  I misled my senior officers.  I misdirected an investigation that could have rescued a doctor who’s saved my life more times than I care to remember.  I’m going to be court-martialled and when it happens I’ll plead guilty, because I am guilty, I did all of it.  You’ve never known the half of what I am, what I’ve done, and I wish for your sake you’d never met me, because you deserve to have someone worth something to love.”  He stood up, took a single step closer to her, and made himself stare into her pale, aghast, tear-stained face and continue, doggedly, because for her own sake it was better that she understand everything.  “I don’t want you to come back here.  I don’t want to see you ever again.  I want you to forget I ever existed.  Do you understand now?”

The wide brown eyes stared back at him, mirrors for his own anguish.  The fine fingers clawed at the glass.

“Malcolm, no...!” she whimpered.

“Just go!” he said harshly.  Then, because he couldn’t bear to watch her leave for the last time, he swung around again and dropped back on to the bunk, where he brought his knees up again and dropped his forehead onto them.  If wishing could have achieved anything, that sight would have been his last in this life.

Faintly he caught the sound of the outer door opening.  There was a murmur of voices.  Hers wasn’t among them, but moments later footsteps left the outer chamber.  The door closed again, and the quality of the silence told him he was alone again.

For good.