New Fic: Fathers and Sons 2/3 (Archer/Reed; PG-13)
See Chapter 1 for headers.
Chapter 2: Trip
Damn, it was cold. Trip didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there, huddled together in chilly silence. He’d been drifting, in the hour since Malcolm had ... forcibly dissuaded him from sealing himself inside the airlock. His legs had long since turned numb, and he noticed he’d stopped shivering. Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t remember.
Maybe they should have moved off the metal floor and onto the padded benches on either side of the ‘pod, but that would have meant moving away from the one remaining source of warmth in the small cabin. Malcolm’s body heat seeped into his side. Maybe this would be the last time he’d ever be close to another human being. If he had to die …
The phase pistol lay forgotten in Malcolm’s lap. Tried to save him for ya, Cap’n. Trip’s mind drifted back several weeks, to the morning after Malcolm’s birthday party.
“So - how’d it go last night?” Trip had grinned and waggled his eyebrows as he’d taken his customary seat at the captain’s table and tucked into his eggs.
Jon had just grunted and glowered into his coffee.
“C’mon,” Trip cajoled, “I made myself scarce - don’t tell me you chickened out?”
“I didn’t.” Jon spoke through clenched teeth.
“Ah … he wasn’t interested? That’s a shame - you’d have been great together.”
“He was interested enough - until I blew it.”
Trip frowned. “Huh? How?”
And then Jon had told him the whole story, from the moment Malcolm had invited him into his quarters, until the moment Jon had found himself back out in the corridor, staring stupidly at the wrong side of Malcolm’s door.
As Jon finished, Trip rolled his eyes. Damn! He should have seen this coming. He dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, and then glanced up at his friend. “Jon, when are you gonna learn that not everyone has an ideal relationship with their folks? It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong, it’s just … sometimes families get along better when they’re a few light-years apart.”
Jon shifted uncomfortably. “You should have seen him, Trip - Captain Stuart Reed of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The man looked like he‘d spent his entire life sucking a lemon.”
“Even so, it’s still none of your business.”
Jon shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I guess I’ve learned that the hard way.” He sighed. “You … seem to know Malcolm better than I do, Trip. What can I do?”
Trip shrugged. “Give him some time to cool down, I guess. And apologise. Make it clear you know you were out of line.”
“You think it’ll be that simple?”
Jon had sounded so hopeful that Trip hated to disillusion him. “I think ... it’ll salvage your working relationship - Malcolm’s a professional, and you’re still his captain. But whether he’ll ever accept you as anything more than that again ... you know what a private person he is. He’s opened that door to you once, and it backfired on him. I don’t think there’s much chance of him doing it again.”
Malcolm’s head lolled against Trip’s shoulder, jolting him back to the present. “Hey,” Trip said, jostling the other man gently. “Hey, Malcolm, don’t go to sleep.”
“Huh?” Malcolm stirred and raised his head. His breath misted in the air.
“We’ve gotta … gotta stay awake,” Trip slurred. “Can’t go to sleep …” He didn’t dare finish the thought. He nudged Malcolm with his elbow as his head began to droop again. “Why don’t you record s’more letters or somethin’?”
“I’ve said all I need to say.”
Trip glanced over at him. “You sure?”
“Yes.” Malcolm eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I thought you might wanna … record one more. For the cap’n.”
Malcolm stiffened. “No.”
Trip sighed. Normally he wouldn’t dream of interfering in Jon’s - or Malcolm’s - love life, but for some reason he felt the need to try and fix this before … before it was too late. “Jon’s pretty cut up about what happened, y’know,” he ventured, deliberately using the captain’s first name. Malcolm had received Jon’s apology with frosty politeness, but he’d made it clear he wouldn’t welcome any further personal advances. But as the weeks had passed, Trip could see how much the situation was costing both his friends. He’d seen how often Jon’s doleful gaze lingered on Malcolm as he sat at the tactical station, and the way Malcolm had become even more formal and deferential to his Captain than before. Gone were the dry little asides Malcolm used to make during briefings, and he seemed to have forgotten how to smile.
“How long are you gonna keep giving him the silent treatment?” he said at last.
Malcolm shot him a glare, and the phrase ‘sucking a lemon’ sprang unbidden into Trip’s mind. Like father, like son, he thought wryly. “Nobody besmirches my father’s good name,” Malcolm said primly, “not my captain, and certainly not my … boyfriend.”
Trip noticed the small hesitation, but he didn’t comment. “Was what he said really that bad?” he said softly.
“He all but said that my father was a heartless, abusive ogre. On the basis of one conversation and a few disconnected pieces of information.”
“Well, you’ve gotta admit, you don’t talk about your parents much.”
Malcolm gave a jerky shrug. “So I’m reserved. So is most of my family. We may not be the most demonstrative of people, but just because we’re not huggy and kissy all the time doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other - and it certainly doesn’t mean my father neglected or abused me.” Malcolm glowered.
“’Course it doesn’t. And I’m sure Jon didn’t mean to offend you.” Trip hugged himself tighter under his blanket. “But the thing you gotta understand about Jon is, he never really got the chance to have a real relationship with his own father.”
Malcolm leaned against him again. “How so?”
“Well,” Trip spoke quietly, “his daddy died when he was twelve. From what he’s told me I guess his Mom remarried pretty soon afterwards, and Jon didn’t get along with his stepfather. He’s only ever mentioned his mom maybe half a dozen times in all the time I’ve known him, but his father ... Jon idolises him. I don’t think he even remembers what he was really like any more. He just has this … this image in his head of what the perfect father-son relationship should be like. But it’s a little kid’s version of it. He doesn’t really get that when you become an adult it can be full of … of tension and contradictions and conflict.”
Malcolm glanced at him sharply. “Even yours?”
Trip gave a wry chuckle. “Even mine. Dad wanted me to stay in Florida and help him run his boatyard, but he had to suck it up when I decided to join Starfleet. Still grumbles about it, but at the same time ... I know he’s proud of me.”
Malcolm nodded. “It’s the same for me. He’d always wanted me to join the Navy, but when I was accepted into Starfleet ... Mum said he walked around with his chest puffed out for a month.” Malcolm grinned and Trip chuckled.
“But the point is,” Trip said, “Jon never had that kind of experience - never had to make the decision that you and I did, to stand up to his father and be his own man. Emotionally, he’s still a screwed-up twelve-year-old trying to prove he’s worthy of his father’s love. In a way that’s what this ship and this whole mission is all about for him. It’s the only way he can express his love and loyalty to his father. So he can’t understand that for most fathers and sons, that conflict is a normal part of growing up, something they resolve, and then move on.”
Malcolm looked thoughtful. “You know, I never really thought about it that way before.” He stared down at his hands, twisting a corner of the blanket. “Maybe I do have another letter to record,” he said. “Just in case.”
TBC ...
Chapter 2: Trip
Damn, it was cold. Trip didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there, huddled together in chilly silence. He’d been drifting, in the hour since Malcolm had ... forcibly dissuaded him from sealing himself inside the airlock. His legs had long since turned numb, and he noticed he’d stopped shivering. Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t remember.
Maybe they should have moved off the metal floor and onto the padded benches on either side of the ‘pod, but that would have meant moving away from the one remaining source of warmth in the small cabin. Malcolm’s body heat seeped into his side. Maybe this would be the last time he’d ever be close to another human being. If he had to die …
The phase pistol lay forgotten in Malcolm’s lap. Tried to save him for ya, Cap’n. Trip’s mind drifted back several weeks, to the morning after Malcolm’s birthday party.
“So - how’d it go last night?” Trip had grinned and waggled his eyebrows as he’d taken his customary seat at the captain’s table and tucked into his eggs.
Jon had just grunted and glowered into his coffee.
“C’mon,” Trip cajoled, “I made myself scarce - don’t tell me you chickened out?”
“I didn’t.” Jon spoke through clenched teeth.
“Ah … he wasn’t interested? That’s a shame - you’d have been great together.”
“He was interested enough - until I blew it.”
Trip frowned. “Huh? How?”
And then Jon had told him the whole story, from the moment Malcolm had invited him into his quarters, until the moment Jon had found himself back out in the corridor, staring stupidly at the wrong side of Malcolm’s door.
As Jon finished, Trip rolled his eyes. Damn! He should have seen this coming. He dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, and then glanced up at his friend. “Jon, when are you gonna learn that not everyone has an ideal relationship with their folks? It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong, it’s just … sometimes families get along better when they’re a few light-years apart.”
Jon shifted uncomfortably. “You should have seen him, Trip - Captain Stuart Reed of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The man looked like he‘d spent his entire life sucking a lemon.”
“Even so, it’s still none of your business.”
Jon shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I guess I’ve learned that the hard way.” He sighed. “You … seem to know Malcolm better than I do, Trip. What can I do?”
Trip shrugged. “Give him some time to cool down, I guess. And apologise. Make it clear you know you were out of line.”
“You think it’ll be that simple?”
Jon had sounded so hopeful that Trip hated to disillusion him. “I think ... it’ll salvage your working relationship - Malcolm’s a professional, and you’re still his captain. But whether he’ll ever accept you as anything more than that again ... you know what a private person he is. He’s opened that door to you once, and it backfired on him. I don’t think there’s much chance of him doing it again.”
Malcolm’s head lolled against Trip’s shoulder, jolting him back to the present. “Hey,” Trip said, jostling the other man gently. “Hey, Malcolm, don’t go to sleep.”
“Huh?” Malcolm stirred and raised his head. His breath misted in the air.
“We’ve gotta … gotta stay awake,” Trip slurred. “Can’t go to sleep …” He didn’t dare finish the thought. He nudged Malcolm with his elbow as his head began to droop again. “Why don’t you record s’more letters or somethin’?”
“I’ve said all I need to say.”
Trip glanced over at him. “You sure?”
“Yes.” Malcolm eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I thought you might wanna … record one more. For the cap’n.”
Malcolm stiffened. “No.”
Trip sighed. Normally he wouldn’t dream of interfering in Jon’s - or Malcolm’s - love life, but for some reason he felt the need to try and fix this before … before it was too late. “Jon’s pretty cut up about what happened, y’know,” he ventured, deliberately using the captain’s first name. Malcolm had received Jon’s apology with frosty politeness, but he’d made it clear he wouldn’t welcome any further personal advances. But as the weeks had passed, Trip could see how much the situation was costing both his friends. He’d seen how often Jon’s doleful gaze lingered on Malcolm as he sat at the tactical station, and the way Malcolm had become even more formal and deferential to his Captain than before. Gone were the dry little asides Malcolm used to make during briefings, and he seemed to have forgotten how to smile.
“How long are you gonna keep giving him the silent treatment?” he said at last.
Malcolm shot him a glare, and the phrase ‘sucking a lemon’ sprang unbidden into Trip’s mind. Like father, like son, he thought wryly. “Nobody besmirches my father’s good name,” Malcolm said primly, “not my captain, and certainly not my … boyfriend.”
Trip noticed the small hesitation, but he didn’t comment. “Was what he said really that bad?” he said softly.
“He all but said that my father was a heartless, abusive ogre. On the basis of one conversation and a few disconnected pieces of information.”
“Well, you’ve gotta admit, you don’t talk about your parents much.”
Malcolm gave a jerky shrug. “So I’m reserved. So is most of my family. We may not be the most demonstrative of people, but just because we’re not huggy and kissy all the time doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other - and it certainly doesn’t mean my father neglected or abused me.” Malcolm glowered.
“’Course it doesn’t. And I’m sure Jon didn’t mean to offend you.” Trip hugged himself tighter under his blanket. “But the thing you gotta understand about Jon is, he never really got the chance to have a real relationship with his own father.”
Malcolm leaned against him again. “How so?”
“Well,” Trip spoke quietly, “his daddy died when he was twelve. From what he’s told me I guess his Mom remarried pretty soon afterwards, and Jon didn’t get along with his stepfather. He’s only ever mentioned his mom maybe half a dozen times in all the time I’ve known him, but his father ... Jon idolises him. I don’t think he even remembers what he was really like any more. He just has this … this image in his head of what the perfect father-son relationship should be like. But it’s a little kid’s version of it. He doesn’t really get that when you become an adult it can be full of … of tension and contradictions and conflict.”
Malcolm glanced at him sharply. “Even yours?”
Trip gave a wry chuckle. “Even mine. Dad wanted me to stay in Florida and help him run his boatyard, but he had to suck it up when I decided to join Starfleet. Still grumbles about it, but at the same time ... I know he’s proud of me.”
Malcolm nodded. “It’s the same for me. He’d always wanted me to join the Navy, but when I was accepted into Starfleet ... Mum said he walked around with his chest puffed out for a month.” Malcolm grinned and Trip chuckled.
“But the point is,” Trip said, “Jon never had that kind of experience - never had to make the decision that you and I did, to stand up to his father and be his own man. Emotionally, he’s still a screwed-up twelve-year-old trying to prove he’s worthy of his father’s love. In a way that’s what this ship and this whole mission is all about for him. It’s the only way he can express his love and loyalty to his father. So he can’t understand that for most fathers and sons, that conflict is a normal part of growing up, something they resolve, and then move on.”
Malcolm looked thoughtful. “You know, I never really thought about it that way before.” He stared down at his hands, twisting a corner of the blanket. “Maybe I do have another letter to record,” he said. “Just in case.”
TBC ...