Carry That Weight

I'm exhausted.

I can feel the dying rays of the triple suns lap over me. It's hot and dry here, but a cool breeze has picked up. I lean back and close my eyes, savoring the gentle currents gliding over my skin. I can feel it playing over the hairs on my arms, against my throat and across my face. There's a sweet fragrance of flowers in the air, not cloying or overpowering, just a hint of…flavor. It reminds me of those rare Los Angeles summer nights, when the temperature is just right—after a night swim, when you can still feel the heat of the day soaking into your bare feet, rising up from the deck. Not that burning pain that makes you run full tilt into the pool during the day, trying not to even touch the cement, the soles of your feet on fire and scorching. But warm and mild, that on shore flow cooling things down; but not so cool you need a sweater, like in Frisco. Just the night, the breeze, the heat, the scents—perfectly balanced. Serene. Warm and comfortable.

I haven't been comfortable for what seems like a long time.

I've been on a quest. To stop the Xindi from destroying Earth.

I think I went a little mad. I think Trip did too.

We wanted revenge. We wanted to hurt them as much as they hurt us.

But you can't sustain the hate. The more I learn about the separate species, the more I see of the different Xindi people—I've realized that it's not a case of black and white, us against them, good against evil.

There's grey there. A lot of it. I think Malcolm always saw the grey.

I just hope I haven't ruined my chance at something more with him.

It started with that ridiculous breakfast. He was so nervous. And midway through I realized why—I'd been making a clumsy attempt at seduction.

I found him intriguing. Infuriating at times, yet something always made me persist, trying to get to know him, trying to get under his skin. Actually, come to think of it, maybe it started when I had Hoshi find out his favorite food. His look of delight and surprise made me feel ten feet tall. I put that rare smile on his face; I made his eyes shine with something other than that cool professional appraisal or a flash of anger.

I had touched Malcolm, emotionally, in a good way.

I had made Malcolm happy.

I guess it was addicting.

The funny thing was, he was beginning to unbend. Beginning to respond to my overtures. I think. He seemed more relaxed in my presence. He was starting to talk to me in a manner other than subordinate to superior; not personal things, but conversations that didn't pertain strictly to ship's business like before. And sometimes I think he looked at me in a way that wasn't just captain and lieutenant. I think he knew why I lingered when I touched him—when I looked at him, why it was deeper.

I think he was coming around.

Until the Xindi attacked.

And I turned into Captain Asshat.

I was consumed. Shock. Fear. Hatred. Retribution.

It was all riding on my shoulders. I had to find them before they perfected their weapon.

We still do, but things change. It's not all black and white.

But after leaving Earth, I had a mission. I couldn't take my frustration out on Trip. His sister had just been murdered for god's sake. And after that incident with the cogenitor, I almost lost his friendship. I couldn't stand to lose that, especially now.

I couldn't snap at Hoshi—she stayed with Enterprise—with me—because we needed her, when she could easily have remained on Earth. And besides, Hoshi's always been able to look me in the face and tell me to stop being a jerk. I didn't need, nor want, to hear that.

Travis is just a kid, and T'Pol—T'Pol would just raise an eyebrow and tell me I was illogical. Of course that's her way of telling me I'm being a jerk.

So I took my frustration out on him.

Because I knew he would swallow any retort and then obey my orders regardless, while showing the proper respect for the line of command. For the first time I was grateful for that stick up his ass about ranks and regulations, that military precision and honor. Plus, a little part of me derived a sadistic sort of pleasure to let him see the kind of captain he thought I should be.

I don't think he liked it.

He would advise caution and I would belittle him. I stuck him with the MACOs and washed my hands of it, let him work out any problems with Hayes and his group. And god help me, I almost killed that Ossarian, while I made him stand there and watch.

Between me and Trip, it's no wonder he retreated.

The captain and lieutenant were back, full force. He dug his heels in, counseling security and prudence at every turn and I took delight in shooting him down. I was The Captain after all. This mission was much too important. We couldn't go in weak and tentative. We had to be strong and aggressive.

When we were mutated, I took that stance to the limit. Alpha male. Took what I wanted—I still cringe when I think about stealing those disgusting grubs right out of his hands. He was angry and attacked, but I hit him back. Several times.

The appalling thing was I knew he hadn't hit me with his full strength. But I used all the muscle I had while he refused to hit me again. And I gloried in putting him in his place. I was The Leader.

After Phlox reversed the process, I wanted to apologize. But it stuck in my throat. All I could do was touch him, hold his arm, look at him.

I think he understood. I hope he did.

Then he pissed me off again, when we left Hoshi with that telepath, Tarquin. Malcolm came storming into my ready room, cold and precise—that snotty polished sarcastic tone the British are so good at using; I've heard people call it a "vicious politeness". He protested Hoshi staying there alone, demanding that someone go down with her, anyone, even one of the MACOs.

I lashed out. Again. I am The Captain after all. My call, not his. Besides, we'd already gone over it. So I told him he was denigrating Hoshi, that she was capable of taking care of herself. I even challenged him—hadn't he been supervising her self-defense training? Did he doubt her ability that much? Was he that poor of a teacher?

I have to give him credit though; he didn't rise to the bait. He still argued for someone to accompany her. He swallowed his pride and practically begged me.

I refused.

The mission was more important. As Hoshi had said, we couldn't afford the luxury of delaying; we could do two things at once.

Lucky for me it worked out. But it drove a wedge further between us.

So we continued. He'd urge caution. I'd take satisfaction in ignoring him. Of course he and the MACOs had to save my ass a few times. However, we made a lot of headway, followed leads, gathered information, and we get closer to the Xindi homeworld every day.

But my attitude changed when we found that kemocite factory. When I met Gralik.

Malcolm suddenly switched tactics. Now he counseled death and destruction, revenge and hatred.

And it threw me.

He'd never been like that. And I saw myself reflected in his words, like a crazy fun house mirror—twisted and warped.

I know now that's what he meant me to see. And I didn't like what I saw.

I know I have prejudices. Vulcans being one of them. But T'Pol changed that. I'm ashamed of the things I've said and thought about them in the past.

Malcolm made me see that it's the same thing with the Xindi. His attitude, the venom in his words, the bloodthirst—it brought me up short and made me look at myself.

I'd told T'Pol that if we lost our humanity on this search we'd be no better than the Xindi. But they were just platitudes—I don't think I even believed them at the time.

That's why I took a leap of faith and trusted Gralik..

A bit too fast for Malcolm's liking, but it was his fault after all.

And I'm comfortable again. I feel…lighter. And Malcolm's seems relieved. Less wary around me.

And when I touched him yesterday he leaned into it, didn't tense like before.

He leaned into it, like he started to do after that incident with his lost communicator. He looked at me again, with that same bright good humor. And maybe something else.

I hope.

I hope whatever damage I've done, I can repair. I hope that we can start talking again, not as two ends of the spectrum, not as captain and lieutenant, but back to that comfortable stage. Maybe as Jon and Malcolm.

Maybe something more.