Something

"Cap'n?"

I open my eyes and see Trip standing in front of me in the dusky light. He looks good. More relaxed and happier than I've seen him in a long time.

It must be this planet.

"Trip." I motion for him to sit down next to me and he does.

We sit silently for a minute or two, just watching the suns set. It's beautiful. We both let out a contented sigh at the same time and then laugh.

"You look good," he says to me and I smile.

"So do you. Looks like you've been getting some…" I hesitate just long enough to tease him, "…rest."

He blushes a little but the expression on his face tells me that he really isn't too flustered. It feels good to joke around with him again.

"Well. I did meet someone…" He gives me that sweet little smile I haven't seen in a long time and runs a nervous hand through his hair. "Twalana is great. No pressure, intelligent, easy to talk to…beautiful…"

"Friendly?" I ask, still teasing him.

He smiles wider. "I'm an officer and gentleman, Cap'n. We don't discuss such things."

"Uh huh."

He gives me a light smack on the back of the head. I just have to laugh, and it feels so good. We fall into an easy silence again.

We found this planet a week ago. I'd heard that they didn't much like the Xindi Insectoid species and that they may know something about the Xindi home world.

The Garde are a gentle people, one of the first worlds here in the Expanse that we've found totally at peace. They're advanced, have space capable ships—they're basically historians and scholars. Generous and friendly. Warm and welcoming. It's been an oasis for us, a sorely needed reprieve from the whole goddamn thing.

They've told us more about the Xindi council, gave us more information on the different species…even told us the rumors about Xindi Avians who may have survived—who, due to their nature, may be interested in assisting us in stopping their brethren.

But the Garde's government is made up of academicians. Which means they're not only full of esoteric traditions, but really long-winded as well.

When we got here we went through a four-hour greeting ceremony. Then ten hours of talks and information exchange, ending in a three-hour formal 'good morrow' ceremony.

And it all started again yesterday. And the same thing today. Later tonight is a banquet in our honor. Once that's out of the way, they'll finally allow the rest of my crew to visit. I've set up a lottery for shore leave tomorrow.

One of their more rigid traditions is that the Provost's Cadre performs as an honor guard with any official acting on the planet's behalf. Which means respecting their custom that our security force remains with anyone in our party acting in an official capacity. I didn't know that when I brought only Malcolm along for security; and by that time, we weren't allowed to bring any more people down. So that first night, while the rest of us retired, he had to accompany T'Pol to their main data library to wade through the information the Garde was offering. Then he had to attend the next day's round of talks with Hoshi, Trip, and me, while T'Pol got some sleep. And then he had to go back to the data library with T'Pol after that to complete her task. She told me that he did sleep a little there, curled up on the floor for a couple of hours. It made me feel kind of bad for him. And a little guilty.

They gave us three rooms, each with a single enormous bed. Damn comfortable bed too, I might add. Since I'm the captain, I wasn't expected to share a room. But then again, Hoshi and Trip didn't have to share either, considering that their roommates were gone.

Last time I saw Malcolm, he was looking a little ragged, although I think he managed to catch a quick catnap during the 'good morrow' ceremony earlier. He was leaning against a wall, arms crossed and head down, like he was listening respectfully. But he didn't move a muscle for those last excruciating forty-five minutes.

That's a talent I'd like to learn.

These are really nice people. But as Trip said, they could talk the pants off a preacher. I'm not looking forward to the banquet later tonight.

I wonder where Malcolm is.

When the 'good morrow' ceremony ended, the Provost's entire Cadre invited him along for some sort of…well, neither Hoshi or the UT could translate it. But they assured us it was harmless.

Malcolm looked like he was caught between suspicion and panic, and I could see he was as tired as hell. But things have been going so well, I didn't want to offend our hosts. I spoke to the Provost who promised me that the tropik was safe. So I asked her if Malcolm could be excused from the banquet if he went. It was the least I could do.

I think he'll be happy to know that his evening is free.

"What the hell?"

I open my eyes and look at Trip. He's sitting up straight, squinting a little in the fading light, looking off to the left. Then I hear it. It sounds god-awful.

I see a group of people heading our way, and they're singing. Our UT doesn't pick up the words until they get closer. Trip looks at me and his expression is faintly shocked when we hear the translation. Then I spot Malcolm.

The members of the Provost's Cadre are all built like offensive linemen so Malcolm's easy to pick out. He's the one supporting 150 kilo linebacker.

Trip and I stand up as they draw nearer. Trip starts grinning and I can't help it. I laugh.

They're covered in mud, the Cadre members singing the obscene chorus at the top of their lungs, and they all look plastered. Except Malcolm. He looks sober, pissed off, and totally wiped out.

They surround us and I feel like I'm standing at the bottom of a well. Encircled by colossal winos. They're talking excitedly and the UT sputters, unable to follow them.

Malcolm slides out from under the sweaty armpit of the Garde he's half carrying. The man sways and almost falls, much to the amusement of his friends. He slaps Malcolm on the back and it staggers him. I catch Malcolm and hang on as he steadies himself.

"You should be proud of your lieutenant," he roars. "Most tenacious tropik holder I've ever seen. Plus, he out drank Skele!" That's when I notice the unconscious giant that two of the Cadre are toting. The others start laughing and congratulating Malcolm, who just stands there, looking like he's wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.

"You shall join us in song at the feast tonight, Lieutenant. We'll tell the women how good your hands are—they'll be lining up for you!"

This sets the Garde off again in a round of guffaws and I feel Malcolm slump. I realize I'm still holding onto him, and I can see a blush spreading across his cheeks underneath the coating of grime.

"Oh, fucking hell, no, please," he mutters and the Garde laughs and slaps him on the back again.

It sends him straight into my chest. I'm just beginning to enjoy the feeling of Malcolm against me when he rights himself as the entire Cadre break into another rude song and stagger off.

Malcolm is rubbing his eyes, avoiding ours, and he stifles a yawn. Trip grins even wider. He looks at me, then winks.

"Sounds like you're in for a night of wine, women and song, Lieutenant."

"I've had enough of the wine and song, Commander. And sadly, I'm too done in to do anything with the women."

I laugh, but I sympathize with him. Garde wine, while intoxicating to their species, just has a profound soporific effect on humans. I haven't slept so well in months. I felt fine until my head hit the pillow last night and I don't think that a roomful of Klingons in full battle cry would have woken me. And judging by Trip's well- rested appearance, it had the same effect on him.

"Well, maybe you can make up for that tomorrow before we leave, Malcolm," Trip says, still teasing.

"I plan on sleeping all day," Malcolm replies, a little surly. "Unless I die of old age first before that bloody dinner ends tonight."

"You don't have to go," I tell him, and I see the look of disbelief then relief right before he breaks into a huge smile. I commit that smile to memory.

"If you weren't my commanding officer, I think I'd kiss you."

His ecstatic grin and warm eyes send a thrill through me, but his words remind me of the barrier still between us. My own smile falters just a little, but he doesn't notice. Trip's captured his attention, asking about the tropik and that sends him into a scathing tirade.

I feel a little prick of envy as I see how easily he and Trip laugh and rag each other; how he lets his guard down with Trip. I've made it clear to everyone that during this mission Starfleet and I don't expect the fraternization rules to be followed. We're too far out, too isolated, for anyone to expect people not to seek contact or solace from their crewmates. We're all we've got out here. I wish I knew what Malcolm thought about that.

My musings are broken by a mammoth yawn from Malcolm and his embarrassed apology.

"Go to bed, Malcolm," Trip says. "But clean up first. I don't want to share my bed with your filthy ass."

"And I won't be responsible for my actions should you wake me with your clumsy fumblings about the room when you finally drag your sorry arse back." Malcolm gets that little sly smile. "Unless you plan on staying with Twalana tonight, Commander…"

Trip colors a little but he laughs. "Might be a good idea—better than listening to you talk in your sleep. And she's a hell of a lot better looking too."

Now I know Malcolm's bushed because instead of shooting back a snappy retort all he does is give Trip a weary grin as we start heading back. It's not far and Trip goes on up to their room. But Malcolm's hesitating and I look at him, wondering why.

He watches Trip leave and turns to me.

"Are you sure we won't offend them if I don't attend dinner? It's no trouble to go if it'll prevent any problems—"

I cut him off. He looks totally drained and I can see he's starting to worry.

"Malcolm, it's fine. I cleared it with the Provost. It's an unofficial official event—they don't require security present. Their Cadre will be there purely for social reasons."

It's funny how his whole body just relaxes as soon as he hears that. He looks down at his grubby clothing, then kind of looks up at me, just his eyes, like he's too tired to even raise his head, and that shy smile appears again. I'm struck by how the combination of his bedraggled appearance and the warmth in his eyes makes him just devastatingly appealing right now. It goes straight through me and I memorize that, too.

"Thank you, sir. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

He studies his caked boots and I see him beginning to color again. I can't help it. I reach out to him and put my hand on the back of his neck, ignoring the mud and dirt.

"You've earned it, Malcolm," I say. "We leave tomorrow night, so you'll have the day free too." I let my hand linger, because he's leaning into my touch. I don't mean too, but I give him a little caress, and I feel him shiver. I should let go, but I can't. I laugh to cover up my lack of control. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."

He chuckles and I see a spark of…affection?…as he looks at me. We connect at that moment, and I see something in his unguarded expression before he looks down at himself again. I force my hand away and immediately regret the loss of contact.

"I should just climb into bed like this; it would irritate Trip to no end."

That smirk is back on his face and I grin in response to it. I can't help that either. "Maybe he'll be…preoccupied…tonight and you'll have that big bed all to yourself."

That shy smile reappears. "Bit of a waste that. But then again, Trip isn't my type."

Our eyes meet and I search his face for any hint of something more than simple camaraderie before he looks away, a little ruffled. He says good night and leaves, and I stand there.

I want to ask him if I'm his type.