Fic: Objectivity (Reed/Hayes - PG)
Title: Objectivity
Author: sheryden
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Reed/Hayes
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine.
Author’s Notes: I wrote this in response to a five-minute challenge on a Yahoo group for Major Hayes and the other MACOS years ago and just found it while I was looking through my hard drive for something else. I don't think I've ever posted it here. Apologies for the melodrama.
When Hayes opened his eyes in sickbay, he thought of only one thing-Malcolm.
Malcolm.
Hayes let out a staggered breath. Wonderful. Now he was on a first name basis with a superior officer. How had he let this happen? When had he gotten so reckless?
He closed his eyes tight, remembering. It all came down to that mission didn’t it?
That mission . . .
The Xindi had gotten wind of their plan to rescue the Captain and had been waiting for them, armed to the teeth. Hayes and Reed had been lucky to survive the ambush. They’d lost two of Hayes’ fellow MACOS. Good friends, gone in the flash of a phaser.
Barely escaping, Hayes and Reed had spent eight days trying to stay one step ahead of the enemy. During the cold, lonely nights, they’d started to talk, to bond. Pretty soon, they’d crossed the line from rivals to tenuous friends.
Then one night, they’d crossed another line. Hayes should’ve known better. Hell, Reed should’ve known better. But maybe they both just felt too abandoned to care. Or maybe the events of the last week had made them careless.
Whatever the reason, they not only crossed that line, they charged over it at breakneck speed, uttering their passions with a fluidity and boldness that should have appalled them both.
The very next morning, the shuttle pod arrived, and the rescuers became the rescued. Hayes and Malcolm-he was Malcolm now-had barely glanced at each other as Travis and Trip had ushered them to safety.
Once back on the ship, promises were made to return to a more professional relationship. “We have responsibilities,” Malcolm had said, and Hayes had agreed.
The promises had been kept for five days. On the fifth day, Hayes returned to his quarters after his shift to find Reed waiting for him, running his fingers through his short, dark hair.
After that, the two men sought each other out once a week. Hayes had told himself that it was just a physical thing. He and Malcolm were friends now, and they provided each other with a necessary outlet for cumbersome physical desires. Hell, Hayes was doing the crew a favor. Even the Captain had been overheard remarking to someone that Malcolm seemed happier and more relaxed lately.
Hayes had felt a surge of smug pleasure, knowing that he was the reason.
Somehow, without warning, though, their once a week sessions had turned into lunches spent sharing daily frustrations, hushed meetings in the cargo bay in the middle of the day, and frequent, breathless, clandestine nights in each other’s quarters.
Hayes had told himself over and over that none of it meant anything. It was sex, plain and simple. And camaraderie and friendship.
But some mornings, when Hayes would slip gingerly back into consciousness, he would find Malcolm watching him. And some nights, while Malcolm slept, Hayes would do the same, and thoughts of love would creep into his mind.
Hayes should’ve ended it the first time he realized sentiment was involved. He should’ve had the balls to walk away.
He almost did it, too. Had the speech all planned out. “Malcolm,” he was going to say, “I need to maintain my professional objectivity, and I don’t think I can do that while I’m with you. I don’t think I can do my job while I’m with you.”
It had been a nice speech. But when it came time to do the deed, all Hayes could think about was how lonely his nights had been before and how warm and pleasant they were now. And so the words had been left unsaid.
After that, every mission became a little harder. Hayes was a soldier, and he was used to thinking in pragmatic terms. Get the mission done with as few losses as possible, but every man was expendable. He loved his men, to be sure. When he set foot back on Enterprise, he expected to return with every single man. But he also understood that there might be losses.
Now, however, loss was a word with a new meaning. To lose Malcolm would be to lose warmth, strength, passion . . . love. If Malcolm went out alone, Hayes would wait with clenched fists until he returned. If they went out together, Hayes would find himself trying to keep Malcolm in sight. Just in case. As damned irresponsible as it was, Hayes worried just a little more about Malcolm than the rest of the men. Than the mission.
So now here he was.
“Well, I see you’re awake.”
Hayes lifted his head to gaze into the eyes of the ship’s doctor. “Malcolm?” Hayes asked.
Phlox raised one eyebrow at Hayes’ use of Reed’s first name. “He’s resting in the next bed.”
Hayes fought the urge to let his gaze fall on his lover. “Casualties?” Hayes choked out.
“Two,” Phlox said, guilt and frustration lacing his voice. “I couldn’t save them.”
Two.
Hayes shut his eyes tight, trying to remember.
Visions of a firefight replayed in his mind. They had been there to get intel, no fuss, no muss. It was an easy mission. All they had to do was meet their contact and retrieve the blueprints for a new Xindi device. Still, Hayes had gone into this mission with that gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach. His fears had been realized when he, Malcolm, and the other men were discovered.
Hayes could only recall fragments of the mission. There was shooting, confusion. Somehow, Hayes had made it to their contact, just as the man had fallen. Blueprints within reach, he leaned forward to pry them out of his contact’s hand.
Then he had seen Malcolm fall, and every fear, every anxiety swelled within him. The mission no longer seemed important. The blueprints forgotten, he had thrown himself toward his lover.
“The blueprints?” Hayes muttered.
“No,” Phlox said.
Just then, Hayes noticed Captain Archer standing next to his bed. “Sir,” Hayes whispered.
“We didn’t get the blueprints, Major,” he said tersely, “But at least the two of you are alive.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hayes choked. The blueprints were gone. He had failed his mission. He had let his love for Malcolm cloud his thoughts.
Archer shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later, Major.”
Hayes tried to sit up. He had to explain. “Sir, I-”
“Major, get some rest,” Archer said firmly. “That’s an order.”
As the Captain disappeared out the door, Phlox walked over to Hayes and leaned down. “If it helps, Major,” he whispered, “The Lieutenant wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.”
Hayes opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly felt drained of all energy. He rested his head against his pillow and finally allowed himself to glance at his still unconscious Malcolm.
He wondered what Malcolm would say when he woke up and found out that Hayes had blown the mission.
Swallowing, Hayes gazed at the sleeping figure and let thoughts of love creep into his mind.
Author: sheryden
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Reed/Hayes
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine.
Author’s Notes: I wrote this in response to a five-minute challenge on a Yahoo group for Major Hayes and the other MACOS years ago and just found it while I was looking through my hard drive for something else. I don't think I've ever posted it here. Apologies for the melodrama.
When Hayes opened his eyes in sickbay, he thought of only one thing-Malcolm.
Malcolm.
Hayes let out a staggered breath. Wonderful. Now he was on a first name basis with a superior officer. How had he let this happen? When had he gotten so reckless?
He closed his eyes tight, remembering. It all came down to that mission didn’t it?
That mission . . .
The Xindi had gotten wind of their plan to rescue the Captain and had been waiting for them, armed to the teeth. Hayes and Reed had been lucky to survive the ambush. They’d lost two of Hayes’ fellow MACOS. Good friends, gone in the flash of a phaser.
Barely escaping, Hayes and Reed had spent eight days trying to stay one step ahead of the enemy. During the cold, lonely nights, they’d started to talk, to bond. Pretty soon, they’d crossed the line from rivals to tenuous friends.
Then one night, they’d crossed another line. Hayes should’ve known better. Hell, Reed should’ve known better. But maybe they both just felt too abandoned to care. Or maybe the events of the last week had made them careless.
Whatever the reason, they not only crossed that line, they charged over it at breakneck speed, uttering their passions with a fluidity and boldness that should have appalled them both.
The very next morning, the shuttle pod arrived, and the rescuers became the rescued. Hayes and Malcolm-he was Malcolm now-had barely glanced at each other as Travis and Trip had ushered them to safety.
Once back on the ship, promises were made to return to a more professional relationship. “We have responsibilities,” Malcolm had said, and Hayes had agreed.
The promises had been kept for five days. On the fifth day, Hayes returned to his quarters after his shift to find Reed waiting for him, running his fingers through his short, dark hair.
After that, the two men sought each other out once a week. Hayes had told himself that it was just a physical thing. He and Malcolm were friends now, and they provided each other with a necessary outlet for cumbersome physical desires. Hell, Hayes was doing the crew a favor. Even the Captain had been overheard remarking to someone that Malcolm seemed happier and more relaxed lately.
Hayes had felt a surge of smug pleasure, knowing that he was the reason.
Somehow, without warning, though, their once a week sessions had turned into lunches spent sharing daily frustrations, hushed meetings in the cargo bay in the middle of the day, and frequent, breathless, clandestine nights in each other’s quarters.
Hayes had told himself over and over that none of it meant anything. It was sex, plain and simple. And camaraderie and friendship.
But some mornings, when Hayes would slip gingerly back into consciousness, he would find Malcolm watching him. And some nights, while Malcolm slept, Hayes would do the same, and thoughts of love would creep into his mind.
Hayes should’ve ended it the first time he realized sentiment was involved. He should’ve had the balls to walk away.
He almost did it, too. Had the speech all planned out. “Malcolm,” he was going to say, “I need to maintain my professional objectivity, and I don’t think I can do that while I’m with you. I don’t think I can do my job while I’m with you.”
It had been a nice speech. But when it came time to do the deed, all Hayes could think about was how lonely his nights had been before and how warm and pleasant they were now. And so the words had been left unsaid.
After that, every mission became a little harder. Hayes was a soldier, and he was used to thinking in pragmatic terms. Get the mission done with as few losses as possible, but every man was expendable. He loved his men, to be sure. When he set foot back on Enterprise, he expected to return with every single man. But he also understood that there might be losses.
Now, however, loss was a word with a new meaning. To lose Malcolm would be to lose warmth, strength, passion . . . love. If Malcolm went out alone, Hayes would wait with clenched fists until he returned. If they went out together, Hayes would find himself trying to keep Malcolm in sight. Just in case. As damned irresponsible as it was, Hayes worried just a little more about Malcolm than the rest of the men. Than the mission.
So now here he was.
“Well, I see you’re awake.”
Hayes lifted his head to gaze into the eyes of the ship’s doctor. “Malcolm?” Hayes asked.
Phlox raised one eyebrow at Hayes’ use of Reed’s first name. “He’s resting in the next bed.”
Hayes fought the urge to let his gaze fall on his lover. “Casualties?” Hayes choked out.
“Two,” Phlox said, guilt and frustration lacing his voice. “I couldn’t save them.”
Two.
Hayes shut his eyes tight, trying to remember.
Visions of a firefight replayed in his mind. They had been there to get intel, no fuss, no muss. It was an easy mission. All they had to do was meet their contact and retrieve the blueprints for a new Xindi device. Still, Hayes had gone into this mission with that gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach. His fears had been realized when he, Malcolm, and the other men were discovered.
Hayes could only recall fragments of the mission. There was shooting, confusion. Somehow, Hayes had made it to their contact, just as the man had fallen. Blueprints within reach, he leaned forward to pry them out of his contact’s hand.
Then he had seen Malcolm fall, and every fear, every anxiety swelled within him. The mission no longer seemed important. The blueprints forgotten, he had thrown himself toward his lover.
“The blueprints?” Hayes muttered.
“No,” Phlox said.
Just then, Hayes noticed Captain Archer standing next to his bed. “Sir,” Hayes whispered.
“We didn’t get the blueprints, Major,” he said tersely, “But at least the two of you are alive.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hayes choked. The blueprints were gone. He had failed his mission. He had let his love for Malcolm cloud his thoughts.
Archer shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later, Major.”
Hayes tried to sit up. He had to explain. “Sir, I-”
“Major, get some rest,” Archer said firmly. “That’s an order.”
As the Captain disappeared out the door, Phlox walked over to Hayes and leaned down. “If it helps, Major,” he whispered, “The Lieutenant wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.”
Hayes opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly felt drained of all energy. He rested his head against his pillow and finally allowed himself to glance at his still unconscious Malcolm.
He wondered what Malcolm would say when he woke up and found out that Hayes had blown the mission.
Swallowing, Hayes gazed at the sleeping figure and let thoughts of love creep into his mind.