Gigi Sinclair

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Malcolm had heard the cliché his whole life, and he'd always believed it. Until he realized that, the longer you waited for revenge, the more it took over your life, and the emptier you felt when it was finally over.

After two years, it was finally over for Trip. Two years of anguish, two years of pain, and he'd finally had his revenge on the creatures that had killed his sister and seven million other human beings. Of course, that revenge had not come without a price.

Nearly half of the 'Enterprise' crew had lost their lives in the Delphic expanse, including a large portion of Malcolm's armoury staff. That was hard enough for Malcolm, but his survivor's guilt was soon overshadowed by Trip's. Again.

He'd had two good years with Trip, and two miserable ones. Malcolm didn't mind that. They'd never formalized anything, but Malcolm had known, from that first moment when a heated argument over power usage turned into something different and they ended up making out right there in the armoury, that he was in it for better or for worse.

He stood by Trip, knowing the angry outbursts he directed at Malcolm weren't really about him, being there when Trip finally gave in to his emotions, listening to him rant for two years about how he was going to extract his payment for his sister's life. Malcolm had learned how to deal with depressed Trip, vengeful Trip, furious Trip and broken-hearted Trip. But now, he was presented with empty Trip, and Malcolm didn't know how to handle him.

During most of the voyage back to Earth, Trip spent his off-hours sitting in his quarters, more often than not just staring into space. Malcolm tried to interest him in the things he'd once enjoyed, but nothing stirred him. The closest thing Malcolm got to a reaction was when he showed up at Trip's door in nothing but his regulation underwear, and even then, all Trip did was smile a little and say,

"I'm not really in the mood, Mal."

Malcolm thought it would be better once they were back on Earth. He was wrong. For three months, Trip drifted through debriefing meetings and press conferences. He tagged languidly along when Malcolm went house hunting, saying nothing but: "Whatever you want, Malcolm," to every question Malcolm asked.

So Malcolm chose a three-bedroom house on his own. He arranged the viewing, the valuation, the purchase and the transportation of their belongings with no help from Trip, and the day they moved in was the day Malcolm snapped.

He was staggering under the weight of yet another box of Trip's knickknacks, trying to manoeuvre the doorframe without doing serious damage to himself or the property of which he'd just taken possession, when he saw Trip sitting on a box, staring blankly out the window.

"That's it." Malcolm dropped his box onto the floor, choosing not to hear the shattering that accompanied it. Trip turned around and blinked at him. "Trip, I know you're upset. I know the last two years have been hard on you. They haven't been a picnic for me, either. But you have got to stop this." Malcolm ran a sweaty hand through his hair. "I want to get on with my life. And if you're not interested in joining me, then I'm going to do it without you."

Malcolm had barely finished his outburst-and hadn't even begun to consider Trip's possible reaction-when the commander's arms were around him, squeezing him so tightly Malcolm could barely breathe.

"I'm so sorry, Malcolm. God, I'm so sorry." Trip's sobs rose to a near-hysterical pitch as he soaked Malcolm's already damp T-shirt.

"Trip, I didn't…" Malcolm put his arms around Trip. He didn't know what else to do. "I won't leave you." And then Trip was kissing him.

Over the last two years, Malcolm and Trip had had many kinds of sex. Angry sex, comfort sex, desperate sex when they didn't know if they were going to live to see another day. This was something else entirely. This, Malcolm realized, as Trip gently pulled him to the floor, was the kind of sex they'd had before seven million people had been decimated, before they'd even heard of the Delphic expanse. But for the fact that Trip sobbed apologies throughout, Malcolm could almost have imagined that they were back in that happier time.

They did it twice, once on the living room floor surrounded by boxes, and then, later, on the hastily set up bed in the master bedroom. When they woke up the next morning, Trip kissed Malcolm on the mouth, said, "I love you," for about the fiftieth time since the previous night, and followed that up with the surprising-to Malcolm, anyway-non sequitur: "I want to have a kid."

***

"Ah, Lieutenant Commander Reed. Congratulations on your promotion. Long overdue, if I may say so." Phlox beamed at him with one of his scary grins.

"Thank you. How's Trip?" Malcolm would have much preferred that Trip talk to a properly trained and certified human psychiatrist, but he wouldn't have it. "Phlox's the only one who knows what we've been through, Mal," Trip had explained. "I trust his advice way more than some high-an'-mighty head shrinker's." Malcolm had satisfied himself with the fact that at least Trip was talking to someone. Someone who had hopefully told him what a bloody stupid idea this was.

Phlox sighed, then indicated a chair. Malcolm sat, and Phlox perched on his desk. Although the doctor had been scheduled to return to his own planet after their mission, he seemed to have made himself very much at home at the Starfleet Medical Centre. Malcolm had heard he was giving a lecture series on the medicinal properties of extra-terrestrial invertebrates.

"Commander Tucker, like all of us, was quite understandably disturbed by the events of the last two years." Phlox finally began. He sounded like he was trying to be tactful. Malcolm had passed that point about a year and eleven months ago.

"I know. What can I do to help him?"

Phlox smiled, a little more humanly this time. "Commander Tucker has an intense desire for offspring. I suspect you have known this for some time."

"He used to talk about kids." During their first two years together, and Malcolm had thought there would be plenty of time to deal with that in the future. Then, the future had arrived, and Trip had stopped talking about everything except revenge.

"He believes that now is the time to act on his desires. However, he told me quite firmly that he will not do so without your consent and active participation in every stage of the reproduction."

Malcolm sighed and stared at a poster advertising some kind of new birth control technique. The irony was not lost on him. "I don't want children."

Phlox tilted his head. "Is that your considered, informed decision, Lieutenant Commander, or simply what you have always told yourself?"

"What?" Malcolm looked up.

"Your own childhood was less than ideal. Is it possible that you do not dislike the idea of children, but rather the idea of becoming your own father?"

Malcolm stared at him. He didn't know how the man-Denobulan-did it, but it was damned infuriating. Always had been.

"Is that your advice, Doctor?"

"No, Mr. Reed. My advice is this." He looked at Malcolm evenly. "While, under normal circumstances, I would not suggest that a person with unresolved psychological issues undertake the responsibilities of parenthood, it is clear that this is something Commander Tucker has wanted for a very long time. I believe that a child may help to provide the positive focus his life has lacked since…" Phlox trailed off, obviously no more comfortable discussing the attack on Earth than the rest of them were. "The incident."

"You're saying that a baby will help Trip get better." Malcolm sighed. But if that was what it was going to take…

"I'm saying a child may very well be what you both need to move past the events of the last two years. Of course," Phlox smiled again. "You and Commander Tucker must make that decision for yourselves."

Not that there was much of a decision to make. When Malcolm left Phlox's office, he went straight to the Officers' Mess. Trip was already there, waiting.

"I ordered you some tea," he said, as Malcolm sat down across from him.

"Thank you." Malcolm smiled as Trip sipped his coffee and waited.

For three seconds. "You seen Phlox, then?"

"Yes." A steward arrived with a small silver pot. Malcolm dipped the teabag into the hot water.

"Before you say anything, Mal," Trip continued, when the steward had gone, "I gotta tell you somethin'. I always wanted a kid, and I think now's the right time." Malcolm stirred in his sugar. "But it's gotta be the right time for you, too. Because I don't wanna have a kid, Malcolm, I want our kid." He smiled uncertainly. "And I want us to do it together."

There was nothing Malcolm could say to that. No, Malcolm corrected himself, there was plenty he could say, but nothing he was going to. Because he loved Trip, and more than anything he wanted him to get better, to finally get over what everyone else had already started to move past. And Malcolm didn't care what it took for that to happen.

"All right."

"I…" Trip furrowed his eyebrows. Obviously, he'd been expecting more of a fight. "What?"

Malcolm smiled. "I said all right. Dad."

If they had been in a less austere environment, Malcolm was sure Trip would have jumped up, whooping. As it was, he leaned across the table and kissed Malcolm squarely on the mouth, drawing the attention of nearly every officer in the mess. He reached the ones he'd missed when he sat back in his own chair and declared, much more loudly than necessary:

"God, I love ya, Malcolm."

Two years ago, Malcolm would have been mortified beyond endurance at such a public display. A year ago, he would have had Trip committed for it. Now, though, Malcolm was just glad to get any kind of non-tearful reaction out of him. Besides, he thought as he glanced around the mess hall, it wasn't like he had anything to be ashamed of. His voice was still restrained when he agreed:

"I love you, too, Trip."

"I know, Mal." Trip lowered his voice, but only marginally. "And I know I'm the luckiest guy in the universe."

Malcolm was halfway through his beef Wellington before he realized that it had been more than two years since Trip had referred to himself that way.

***

Malcolm knew T'Pol and her ex-friends in the High Command weren't the only Vulcans on Earth. When Phlox referred them to a Dr. Sipek, though, he still expected to meet a human of Eastern European origin.

The first thing Dr. Sipek told them was that there was no way Trip could carry the baby himself. "The human male body was not designed for pregnancy, Commander Tucker, as you are well aware. I've looked over the data I received from Dr. Phlox, and it would be quite impossible for you to carry a child to term." For a Vulcan, Sipek seemed almost cheerful. For a Vulcan.

"But don't worry," he continued, looking between Malcolm and Trip. "I have been making babies for thirty years, and this is the most advanced genetics laboratory on Earth. We will produce a child for you. We have done it many times before." Sipek indicated a large frame behind his desk, in which there was a collage fashioned out of hundreds of baby photographs, both human and Vulcan.

Malcolm had never seen a Vulcan infant before. He stared, fascinated, at what looked like a miniature T'Pol while Trip asked:

"So what do we gotta do?"

"Provide the genetic material. There are many ways of doing that, but the simplest is to have both of you ejaculate into containers." Malcolm felt himself blushing, but Trip just nodded, like Sipek was talking about changing the oil on his flitter. "Then, the laboratory will combine your DNA into an embryo, which we will implant in a specially designed sac virtually indistinguishable from a human uterus. You will be able to visit the foetus and, indeed, studies have proven that deep bonding can occur even as your child is growing here in the laboratory."

Trip glanced over at Malcolm, who was fighting mental images of Trip cradling a foetus in a plastic bag. He didn't know whether to be amused or be sick. "Sounds good to me. Malcolm?"

Malcolm gritted his teeth, but he hadn't come this far to back out now. "Fine."

"How soon can we get started, doc?"

Sipek glanced at his chronometer. "If you have a spare few minutes, we can collect the genetic samples now."

Malcolm stiffened, although not in a way that was going to help him provide a genetic sample. Trip, looking concerned, reached out and took Malcolm's hand. "Can we…" He cleared his throat. It comforted Malcolm to know that he wasn't the only one feeling a little uncomfortable. Trip, however, recovered very quickly. "You know, take care of business together?"

"It is essential that the samples not be mixed, Commander. It would be safer if you were to…" He raised an eyebrow and, for a moment, Malcolm flashed back to their first days on 'Enterprise', when he first met T'Pol and his self-abusive inferiority complex kicked into gear. He was still grateful that Trip had been there to save him from his ill-considered crush on T'Pol. "Take care of business individually. Although I can provide you with adjoining cubicles."

Malcolm had never felt so depraved in his life as he did marching through the clinic in a paper dressing gown, carrying an optimistically large sample vial in his hand. When he arrived at his appointed cubicle, he pulled the curtain, reminiscent of a sickbay privacy screen, shut and sat on the plastic bench, turning the sample vial over in his hands. He was doing it for Trip, he reminded himself, as he glanced at the selection of pornographic PADDs thoughtfully placed at one end of the bench. They did nothing for him, not even the one that featured well-built naked men astride massive cannons.

"Malcolm?"

He nearly dropped the vial. "Trip?" He turned and looked at the back wall, which was made of some kind of easily cleaned plastic polymer.

"Right here, darlin'." Trip whispered from the other side of the wall. "Hey, did you get 'Horny Biker Babes Volume Four'?"

"No." Although volumes one and three did appear to be in his pile of pornography.

"Too bad." Trip laughed. "The centrefold looks just like that Klingon chick we met."

"Trip…"

"Know what I was thinkin' of?" Trip lowered his voice even further. "That time when we were trapped on the shuttlepod. Remember that, Mal?"

"Yes," Malcolm whispered back. He could scarcely forget it. It wasn't the only time he'd come close to losing Trip, not by a long shot. It was, however, the first time he'd admitted he'd gladly give his life to keep Trip safe, and not because it was his professional duty to do so.

"I sure do," Trip continued. Malcolm was sure Trip was deliberately thickening his accent. Automatically, his hand went to his crotch. "That was when I finally realized I was in love with you. Course, I'd always thought you were real hot and everything. How could I not? The way you look, the way you sound, the way you're so protective of everyone. Including me."

Trip's voice faltered. Now, Malcolm was sure he was doing it on purpose, but he didn't really care. He began to stroke himself as Trip went on:

"Especially me. Even when I'm bein' a complete ass. Did I ever tell you how lucky I am that you were there with me? Anyone else woulda let me throw myself out the airlock. You're the only one who cared enough to stop me. You're the only one who's cared enough to stand by me through all this shit, Malcolm. You were there for me from the moment it happened, and you've never left me.

"And now you're doin' this for me. I don't know how I'm ever gonna thank you, but I'm gonna spend the rest of my life tryin'. I love you, darlin'. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." Trip gasped, and Malcolm did the same. "I'm the luckiest man alive, Malcolm."

That was enough. Malcolm was glad Trip wasn't in the same room with him, because he would never have retained the presence of mind to fill the vial. He was leaning against the stain-repellent wall, panting, when the curtain opened and Trip appeared, his disposable bathrobe askew. "Anybody home?" Pushing the PADDs to the floor, Trip sat down and put his arms around Malcolm. Malcolm leaned in, resting his head on Trip's shoulder. Trip's vial was just as full as his was.

"Nothing like makin' babies the old-fashioned way, huh?"

Malcolm laughed. Trip leaned his cheek against Malcolm's forehead, and sounded nervous as he said: "Do you think we'll be good parents?"

After three years, Malcolm was used to Trip's mood swings. He just kissed Trip on the cheek and said: "You'll be great, love." He believed it. Trip was made to be a dad, and Malcolm knew the baby would be good for him. He just wished he had the same confidence in himself.

***

They had been back on Earth for more than three months before Starfleet decided to let them get back to work. Malcolm had been given a desk job in the weapons research division. At first, he thought he would be bored to tears, but then he'd actually started the job. He had regular hours, including a full hour's lunch break every day (not that he ever took more than twenty minutes, but it was nice to know he had the option), he got to play with the newest toys, and he got to go safely home to Trip every night. He couldn't remember ever being happier.

This was in large part due to the fact that Trip was happier. He was even getting some of his old impulsiveness back, as Malcolm realized when he came home from work one day to find Trip assembling a crib in the living room.

"Sorry, Mal. I know I shoulda consulted you, but I was passin' by the store on the way home and I saw it was on sale."

"That's fine." Malcolm smiled, and Trip grinned back.

"Then get changed and give me a hand, would ya? Two engineering degrees and I can't figure how the hell these bars are supposed to attach. I think these instructions were translated from Klingon."

By the time Sipek called to tell them they could visit their baby, Trip had put together nearly an entire nursery. At first, he'd tried to involve Malcolm in the decision-making, but Malcolm could-and did-honestly say that he didn't care whether they got the 'rubber-ducks-and-toy-boats' wallpaper border or the 'teddy-bears-and-rocking-horses' one, and Trip soon stopped asking. Malcolm didn't mind one bit. It had been so long since Trip had shown so much enthusiasm that Malcolm was happy to give him free rein to buy whatever he wanted. Although, he had to admit, he cringed a little when he saw the antique changing table Trip had got from his mother. Malcolm doubted it was up to current safety standards.

It was to make Trip happy, as well, that Malcolm agreed to visit the clinic the very evening that Sipek called, even though he was nervous. Which was silly, he told himself firmly, as he and Trip entered the clinic. He'd faced down Suliban agents and Klingon warriors. He'd been pinned to the hull like a dead butterfly and he'd very nearly been hanged as a spy. He'd survived the Delphic expanse. It was ludicrous for him to be afraid of a foetus.

They couldn't see it, but a nurse showed them where it was. At the back of the clinic was a large room, divided into cubicles. In each cubicle, there was an opaque, gelatinous-like sac suspended from the ceiling, attached to feeding tubes and monitors. The nurse stopped in front of one cubicle and pointed at the hanging sac.

"This one's yours." She smiled at them. Trip gazed in wonder while Malcolm tried not to be sick. There was something about the way the sac was hanging there, liquid dripping slowly into a hole at the top, that made him feel vaguely nauseous.

"Can we touch it?" Trip asked, apparently oblivious to Malcolm's discomfort.

The nurse nodded. "It will be a few months before you can feel her move, but you can talk to her."

"Her?" Trip blinked at the woman.

The nurse's smile disappeared. "Sorry. Did you want it to be a surprise?"

"No, that's fine." Trip's grin became life threatening. "Thank you." The nurse left and Trip turned to Malcolm.

"A girl. Our daughter, Malcolm. Isn't that…" He trailed off. "God, it's so amazing." Malcolm watched as he took a reverential step forward and, very carefully, lay a hand on the sac. "Come here, Malcolm." Malcolm didn't want to, but he didn't see how he could possibly refuse.

Breathing deeply, like he was about to engage a fearsome adversary, Malcolm stepped forward and put his hand next to Trip's. It was like touching hardened Jello. Malcolm was seized by the memory of his mother's favourite dessert, a moulded green jelly with cherries and whipped cream, a staple of childhood birthday parties and special occasions. This was suddenly the funniest thing he had ever considered, and he laughed. It only got funnier as Trip, misinterpreting the laughter, put his hand over Malcolm's, trapping Malcolm between Trip and the jelly. Trip kissed him on the cheek, then slid his lips over to whisper:

"Just think, darlin', in a few months, she'll be here. For the rest of our lives." Malcolm abruptly stopped laughing.

***

Every day after that, Trip stopped to visit the baby on his way home from work. Malcolm didn't. At first, Trip seemed disappointed, but he had accepted Malcolm's excuses-that he had to work late, that he wanted to get dinner started, that he had to give his commanding officer a lift. One day, about a month after the first visit, Trip came home as Malcolm was re-heating some spaghetti. Without comment, he fell to one knee on the kitchen floor, looked up at Malcolm, and said:

"Want to get married?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Trip grinned. "Mama'll kill me if we have the baby out of wedlock. She's been after me to make an honest man of you since she saw us in Florida." Since, Trip meant, they'd gone to offer Trip's parents their condolences after Lizzie's death. It was the first time Trip had mentioned it without crying. Malcolm looked down carefully, but his eyes were dry, and he was still smiling.

"All right." Malcolm didn't need to think about it. They were already having a baby, he supposed marriage was a logical step to take. Trip jumped to his feet and kissed him with more ardour than Malcolm could remember him displaying in a good long while.

Malcolm, surprised but not displeased, kissed back. And kept kissing until Trip pulled away and panted: "Bed."

"I'm in the middle of…" Malcolm protested, then realized what he was protesting against, and stopped.

"Later." Grabbing his hand, Trip all but dragged Malcolm up the stairs to their bedroom. Malcolm didn't argue. Anything to support Trip, he thought as Trip pushed him onto the mattress and started frantically kissing his way down Malcolm's chest.

***

The wedding was a quiet affair, in their back yard. Trip's parents came, as did his older sister. Madeline and her family were off on an adventure holiday to the Seregenti, so she had to decline. Reluctantly, at Trip's insistence, Malcolm sent an invitation to his parents, as well, but they also declined. Without giving an excuse.

There were only a handful of other guests, including most of their friends from 'Enterprise': Jonathan Archer, Travis Mayweather, Dr. Phlox, Captain T'Pol in her Starfleet uniform. Lieutenant Sato was already back in space, working on Jupiter Station while she waited to ship out on the 'NX-02.'

Trip waited until after they'd cut the cake (complete, thanks to Admiral Archer, with miniature plastic Starfleet officers under tiny marzipan wedding bells) to announce: "There's somethin' else me and Malcolm have to tell you all." Malcolm glanced over at his new parents-in-law, who already knew about the baby. Junior Tucker flashed him the thumbs-up, while Trip's mother tried to wipe a spot of icing off her husband's garish palm-tree patterned tie.

"Don't say it." Jonathan grinned. "You're moving to Australia because Trip enjoyed it so much last time." Malcolm wondered just how much Jonathan had had to drink as Trip continued:

"No. We're havin' a baby."

It was funny, Malcolm had to admit that. Three pairs of eyes, automatically and in perfect unison, swung over to Trip and stared at his dress-uniform-clad abdomen.

"Not that way." Trip smiled. "In the genetics lab. Phlox helped us set it up." There was a moment of stunned silence. It was T'Pol, of all people, who broke it.

"May I be the first to offer my congratulations, Commander, Lieutenant Commander."

"Thanks, T'Pol." Trip grinned, and that opened the floodgates. Before Malcolm knew what was going on, he found himself in the middle of a comprehensive group hug. He tolerated it, just as he tolerated Jonathan repeatedly slapping him on the back and Travis's slightly awkward jokes about diapers and midnight feedings. But all he really wanted, he realized, was to be alone with Trip.

***

The baby was conceived and incubated scientifically, and she was born scientifically as well. Sipek informed them two months in advance that she would be removed from her artificial womb on Sunday, June 20, 2156. It was Trip who realized this was Father's Day. Malcolm was too busy trying to figure out how far along his prototype photon torpedoes would be by then.

The night before the birth, Malcolm woke up at 0230 to find himself alone. Sighing, Malcolm got out of bed and went to find Trip. It didn't take a lot of searching.

As well as being an adventurous explorer, a respected admiral, and the saviour of humankind, Jonathan Archer was also, apparently, a shopaholic. The day Malcolm and Trip came back from their 'honeymoon' (which had consisted of three days of sex and visiting the baby, because they were saving their leave for when she was born) Jonathan showed up at their door with his Titanium American Express and said:

"I love kids, we're never going to have any of our own, the least you can do is let me spoil my goddaughter." Trip was very eager to let him do just that, but Malcolm had to ask.

"We?"

Trip had never spoken about any women in Jonathan's life, and he hadn't brought a date to their wedding. Jonathan blushed, but answered.

"I'm too old and Travis is too active. They don't make Snugglies that go with climbing gear. I checked." Trip laughed and, that evening, climbing Snugglies or not, Malcolm came home to more baby paraphernalia than he'd thought existed in the known universe.

Most of it was in the nursery now. Malcolm found Trip sitting in the rocking chair, the handmade quilt over his knees and a stuffed duck in his hands.

"Trip." Malcolm leaned against the new, fully secure changing table he knew Jonathan had bought expressly for him. Trip's old family heirloom had been reborn as a toy shelf.

"Hi, darlin'." Trip looked up at him. "You should get back to bed. We got a big day tomorrow."

"What's the matter?" Malcolm reached over to lay a hand on Trip's shoulder.

"Just nervous."

Malcolm had expected that. He smiled. "There's no need." He could afford to be reassuring, because he himself hadn't been nervous in four months.

Malcolm hated talking about himself at work. It was only due to a misdirected memo from one of Trip's baby shower-organizing subordinates that the weapons research division heard Malcolm was expecting a baby. Naturally, they then felt they had to make a big deal out of it, which made Malcolm even more uncomfortable. The baby shower in Engineering had been bad enough, and being given diapers and baby bottles by people under his direct command was far worse. The only part of it Malcolm appreciated was when Lieutenant Morgan said:

"Jeez, I remember when Jenny was pregnant. I was scared as hell. Thought I'd never be able to handle it. Then Nicholas was born and I fell in love." Malcolm had never exchanged more than a few words with the man, who wasn't even in his division, but he was so relieved, he seized by a sudden urge to hug Lieutenant Morgan. Malcolm was fine. He was normal. And when the baby came, everything would fall into place naturally. Thank God.

He tried to convey this to Trip, stroking his spiky hair and saying: "You're going to be a wonderful father."

Trip smiled a little uncertainly and squeezed the duck. It quacked in response. "I just hope she agrees with you." Trip tossed the stuffed duck into the crib and stood up, putting an arm around Malcolm. Leaning over, Malcolm switched off the Noah's Ark lamp before hugging Trip and leading him back to their bedroom.

***

When they learned they were having a girl, Malcolm had assumed Trip would want to name her after his sister. He was surprised when Trip said:

"What do you think of Katherine?"

"It's nice. But I would have thought…"

"Katie Chen. She was Lizzie's best friend growin' up. Cute as a button and she had a crush on me." Malcolm laughed, then felt bad when Trip continued: "She died when they were in high school. One of them cancers they still haven't found a cure for. Lizzie promised she'd name her first kid after her. Never got the chance."

Once they'd decided on Katherine, they naturally had to discuss the last name. Trip was in favour of Reed-Tucker, which Malcolm found ridiculous.

"I'm not giving her a name she can't even fit on her…high school diploma." He'd been about to say on her Starfleet armoury certification, but then he remembered he wasn't doing that. He wasn't going to turn into his father. Katie could have whatever career she wanted, as long as she didn't go into the navy.

"She might be the only kid we have, Malcolm," Trip replied, and Malcolm wasn't too sure he liked that 'might'. "Don't you want someone to carry on your name?"

"I'm not that bothered. Anyway, Madeline's got two kids." To their father's great disgust, she had never married her long-term partner, and they were Reeds. "Tucker's fine, Trip."

Katherine Tucker arrived exactly on schedule. Malcolm didn't witness her actual moment of birth, principally because he, the man who had once stood at his post for ten hours on a broken leg, passed out the moment he saw Sipek approach the artificial womb with a scalpel. He must have hit something on the way down, because when he woke up, he was lying on a biobed even less comfortable than 'Enterprise's' with a splitting headache and a bandage on his right temple.

"Looks like Daddy's awake." Trip had moments of mushiness, but he had never addressed Malcolm in that kind of besotted tone. And, even before Malcolm instituted his ban on all but the most general of pet names, Trip had never referred to him as 'Daddy.' Malcolm raised his head to see that Trip wasn't speaking to him at all.

Trip looked up from the well-wrapped pink bundle in his arms. "You OK?" That was his normal tone.

"I'm embarrassed as hell."

"Don't be." Trip's grin grew. "Sipek says a lot of guys do it." But a lot of guys weren't armoury officers who had survived the Delphic expanse. "Course, not many of them manage to knock themselves unconscious on the equipment. Want to see her?" Not waiting for an answer, Trip moved to sit on the edge of the biobed. He angled the bundle so Malcolm could get a good view.

"Beautiful, ain't she?" Trip's voice was awed.

Malcolm looked at the baby. She had a lot of dark hair and a red, scrunched-up face, and she was holding two tiny fists in front of her chest. "God, Malcolm." He glanced up at Trip, to see there were tears in his eyes as he gazed at their daughter. "Thank you so much."

Remembering Lieutenant Morgan's words, Malcolm looked at some beeping machine on the other side of the bed, then back at the baby. Love at first sight, he reminded himself, trying desperately to feel it.

Trip evidently did. "She's perfect." He nudged one of her fists with a forefinger. Katie stirred a little and opened big blue eyes. She was cute enough, Malcolm supposed, but he wasn't enraptured. He felt the same way he'd felt when he'd seen Porthos for the first time. Like he could tolerate this new acquaintance, as long as they didn't have to spend too much time alone together. And he hated himself for it.

"Malcolm?" Trip tore his eyes away from Katie and glanced at Malcolm. "Are you OK, darlin'?"

"Just a little…overwhelmed." Malcolm looked away. He felt Trip's hand on his shoulder, but then Katie made a sniffling noise, immediately followed by a piercing wail. Malcolm flashed back to the expanse. He was only glad that Trip didn't notice the sweat that appeared on his forehead. He was too caught up in bouncing and cooing at the baby to pay any attention to Malcolm.

***

Malcolm didn't know how something that slept nearly twenty-four hours a day could take up so much time. It seemed like Trip always had Katie in his arms: feeding her, talking to her, and, more often than not, just watching her while she slept. Malcolm couldn't understand it. Trip got up three or four times a night with Katie. He would have thought Trip would take advantage of her naps to get some sleep himself.

Her first night home, Malcolm had got up with Trip when they heard Katie crying. He sat in the rocking chair, stiffly holding the screaming infant at arm's length, while Trip went to get her bottle. Smiling sleepily, Trip handed the bottle to Malcolm and Malcolm held it, staring like it was an undetonated grenade.

"It's not rocket science, Malcolm." Trip teased. "Just put it in her mouth." Malcolm did. She spat it out and continued to wail. "Here." Trip held out his arms and Malcolm handed over the baby. She accepted the bottle from Trip, sucking ravenously while Trip walked around the room, singing. When she'd finished, he took a cloth from the changing table and put it over his shoulder like he'd been doing this for years. He rubbed Katie's back until she spat up on the cloth, then, with a kiss to her forehead, Trip lay her back in the crib with the teddy bears and stuffed animals Jonathan had spent a considerable percentage of his income on.

"Come on, darlin'. Let's go back to bed."

Malcolm had never admired Trip more, and he had never been more unsure of how to tell him that.

Two hours later, Malcolm awoke to the sound of crying from down the hall. He felt Trip get out of bed. Opening his eyes, he was about to do the same when Trip waved him down.

"Go back to sleep, Mal. I'll take care of it."

"I…" He rubbed his eyes and watched Trip navigate the room in the dark.

"No sense in us both gettin' up." Malcolm had to agree with that. Trip pulled his bathrobe over his T-shirt and boxers and left the bedroom. Malcolm lay back down, listening as Trip prepared the bottle and talked softly to Katie. He was asleep before Trip came back to bed.

***

Less than three days later, Trip's parents arrived.

Trip and Junior were in the living room, trying to interest Katie in Florida Marlins baseball. Malcolm was tidying up the already-spotless kitchen when Mama Tucker came and found him.

"Don't worry, Malcolm." She smiled and headed over to the teakettle. "I went through exactly the same thing."

"Really?" Malcolm's embarrassment at being so obvious was superseded by his relief at knowing he wasn't the only one. The hope Lieutenant Morgan had given him made a brief resurgence. Maybe he was normal after all.

"Three times." She sat at the kitchen table. "If I hadn't breastfed them, I wouldn't have seen the kids till they were in college. Trip's exactly like his father." She smiled fondly. "Only calmer. Don't worry. He'll settle down in a couple of months and you'll have all the time you want with Katie." But, Malcolm thought a little forlornly, as Mama arranged the teacups on a tray, he didn't want time with Katie. That was the point. He was happy to let Trip take care of everything. Trip was clearly head-over-heels in love with the baby, while Malcolm thought she was boring and a little bit frightening.

As Malcolm went into the living room to ask what they wanted to drink, he found his husband and his father-in-law lolling on the couch, Katie on Trip's lap, Junior absently stroking her head as he and Trip questioned the eyesight of the umpire. Looking at them, he wondered if whether he might have more in common with his own father than he'd thought. Or hoped.

***

Malcolm knew he wasn't particularly interested in Katie, but he didn't understand why until Jonathan and Travis visited.

Jonathan, of course, arrived with tons of presents, most of which were wrapped in pink paper and hauled in by Travis. Jonathan was immediately besotted by the baby, holding her on his lap as he sat next to Trip, saying:

"Almost enough to change your mind, huh, Trav?"

Travis didn't look changed. Instead, he stared at Jonathan in wide-eyed horror. Malcolm hadn't seen him that frightened since their first days in the expanse. If he hadn't had his own problems, he would have laughed.

"It's the greatest, Jon." Trip grinned widely at his friend and, for a moment, Malcolm thought that was how they should have ended up. Trip and Jonathan with half a dozen babies, Malcolm and Travis spending their holidays mountain climbing and spelunking. There was just one problem with that scenario. Malcolm hated spelunking. And he loved Trip.

Very much so. When Jonathan said: "I can't remember the last time I saw you so happy," and Trip replied:

"It's her. She saved my life," Malcolm was seized with an emotion that was finally identifiable. Jealousy. He was jealous of Katie, because two weeks with her had done what two years with Malcolm hadn't. She was better for Trip than Malcolm had ever been, and Malcolm always strove to be the best.

Suddenly, Trip, who had never been self-conscious around their friends, leaned over and kissed Malcolm on the cheek. Malcolm gave him a weak smile in return and, with a squeeze of his hand, Trip turned back to where Jonathan was making faces at the baby. Immediately, Malcolm passed judgment on himself. He was worse than Stuart Reed, he decided, disengaging his hand from Trip's. Malcolm's father was a piece of work, but not even he had sunk so low as to be jealous of his own child.

***

A lot of people, those who chose to believe the persona Trip presented rather than look any deeper, thought he was insensitive. Malcolm knew him much better than that. Wrapped up as he was in Katie, Trip still noticed there was something wrong with Malcolm. Malcolm's first clue was when Trip climbed into bed one night, removed the PADD from his husband's hands, and said:

"What's up, darlin'?"

"I'm sorry?" Malcolm tried to look innocent.

"Come on." Trip grinned. "I know you." He moved closer to Malcolm. "Although not as well as I'd like to lately."

Katie was now six weeks old, and they hadn't had sex since the night before she was born. Malcolm could hardly complain about this. It was difficult to feel indignant about a lack of sex when Trip was expending all his time and energy taking care of their child. A child, Malcolm reminded himself, he was jealous of, because he was a despicable human being.

"Aren't you tired?"

Trip shook his head. "I had a nap."

"Still, Trip, you don't have to…"

"I want to." Entirely of their own accord, Malcolm's eyes closed as Trip slid his nose up Malcolm's cheek.

It may have been a while, but Trip clearly remembered exactly what Malcolm liked. Malcolm felt lips on his eyelids, then on his forehead. Hands ran through his hair, and Malcolm shivered as they stroked down the sides of his face and settled on his bare shoulders. The mattress shifted as Trip positioned himself on top, his weight on his own legs on either side of Malcolm's body.

"I love you, Malcolm." He brushed his lips over Malcolm's ear as he whispered it. Malcolm put an arm around Trip and pulled him closer, inhaling deeply. As well as his normal scents, Trip smelled of talcum powder and formula, a smell Malcolm didn't find as off-putting as he might have expected.

"I love you, too."

"Tell me what's wrong," the voice coaxed, as the hands moved further down, stopping to rest on Malcolm's hips. Agonizingly slowly, a hand found its way under Malcolm's shorts.

He would have told him. Malcolm trusted Trip, and he got a vivid reminder of that when he felt his boxers being pushed down his thighs. Malcolm opened his mouth and was about to say it, about to pour out everything he'd been torturing himself with for the last six weeks, when a familiar scream came from down the hall.

"Damn." Trip rested his head on Malcolm's shoulder for a moment, then he sat up, pausing only for a quick kiss on the mouth. "Hold that thought, darlin'. I'll be right back."

Malcolm waited, lying naked, for forty minutes. Finally, not wanting to traumatize Katie any more than he was already going to, he pulled his shorts back on and padded down to the nursery.

Trip was in the rocking chair, Katie resting on his shoulder under a blanket. The empty bottle was on the floor beside them, and they were both fast asleep.

Malcolm flicked off the Noah's Ark lamp and went back to bed.

***

Malcolm was leaving Trip. He didn't want to, but he didn't have any choice. Malcolm had never made a habit of staying where he wasn't needed, and it had been clear for nearly nine months now that Trip didn't need him any more.

For four years, Malcolm had been the centre of Trip's universe. Even when revenge had consumed him, Malcolm had been the only person Trip would talk to, the only person who could talk to him. Even Phlox called Malcolm down to sickbay when he needed someone to calm Trip down, and Malcolm loved every minute of it. Now, Trip didn't need calming down. He hadn't been worked up since Katie was born.

Malcolm missed being needed, but more than that, he missed being wanted.

Before Trip, Malcolm had found sex physically satisfying and emotionally disappointing. Then he and Trip had finally done it, and it had blown Malcolm's mind. Not because Trip's technique was especially refined-even in the throes of passion Malcolm didn't have any illusions about that-but because he made Malcolm feel like there was no one else in the universe. Now, on the rare occasions when they made love, Malcolm knew Trip always had one ear open for Katie.

So he had to leave. It would hurt Trip, Malcolm knew, but not much, and not for long, if he timed it right. And he was gong to. Trip's yearlong parental leave was coming to an end, and Malcolm decided he would move out shortly after Trip went back to work.

That was the plan, anyway. Malcolm himself had returned to the weapons research complex several months earlier. He came home from work one day to find Katie chewing on a plastic spoon and babbling to herself in her highchair, while Trip put the icing on what looked suspiciously like a pineapple cake.

"What's this?"

Trip smiled. "Just a little treat, darlin'."

"Why?"

"Cause I love you." He kissed Malcolm on the cheek to prove it. Malcolm's cautious side was less than convinced and, as always, it was right.

Trip waited until Malcolm was halfway through a big slice of cake to say: "Mal, what would you think about me not goin' back to work?"

"You want to leave Starfleet?"

Trip shook his head. "Not really. But I don't wanna leave Katie. I can do part-time contract work at home."

Malcolm tried to wrap his mind around this. Trip had worked very hard for a long time to get his career to the point where it was now, the point where he could have any assignment, any job he wanted. And, apparently, he wanted to give it all up. "That will make you happy?"

"Being with her makes me happy." Trip grinned, and Katie laughed in response. "And I once said I didn't want to be a working mother. Of course, that'll kinda depend on you."

For a moment, Malcolm had no idea what he was talking about. Then, it dawned on him. Money. Trip had saved the world, but he hadn't been that well paid for it, none of them had. If he wanted to spend the next eighteen years doing part-time contract work, he was going to need someone to help support him and Katie. And that was what he was asking Malcolm to do.

There was nothing Malcolm could say. He was selfish, he'd determined that, but he wasn't a complete bastard. Trip, his husband, needed him. He didn't want him, but he needed him. And Malcolm had to reply:

"Of course, Trip," and resign himself to playing second fiddle to someone who was currently scattering Cheerios across the floor.

It wasn't all bad. Even if he wasn't the most important person in Trip's life any more, it was nice being around him, coming home to him every night and waking up with him every morning. Second place wasn't so bad. And, he reminded himself repeatedly, it wouldn't be long before Katie was off at college.

***

Just before Katie's first birthday, Trip decided he wanted to go to Florida.

"Are you sure?" Malcolm asked, meaning 'Do you remember how hard it was last time you went?'

Trip nodded. "Mama wants to see Katie again. And I've gotta go back there sometime."

They had repaired most of the damage that had been left by the Xindi. There was none of the post-apocalyptic wasteland feeling that Malcolm remembered from the last time that he had accompanied Trip home. Of course, this time, Malcolm was too busy hauling the mountains of baby equipment to take much notice of the scenery.

When they were first together, on 'Enterprise', Trip had implemented something he called 'spontaneous dates.' Not that there was much one could do spontaneously on a starship, but Trip had tried. Without warning, he'd pick Malcolm up from the armoury after a shift, and take him back to his quarters to watch a movie, or to the mess hall for a specially-prepared dinner. There wasn't much Chef wouldn't do in exchange for a little extra power when he wanted to make a soufflé. Once, Trip had even taken Malcolm to the observation lounge, 'accidentally' locked the door and taught Malcolm a few of the dance moves he'd picked up at disco night at Club 602.

At first, Malcolm, who preferred a predictable existence, hated these surprise dates. But, like Trip, they grew on him until they were the highlight of his week. They had disappeared during Trip's depression, but back on Earth, when Katie was in the lab, Trip had started up again, arriving at Malcolm's office with flowers and dinner reservations or theatre tickets.

They had even, Malcolm recalled, picked up one Friday afternoon and gone to New York for the weekend. Now, as they prepared for a day at the beach like they were mounting an expedition up the north face of Everest, Malcolm wondered when they'd next be able to do that. Eighteen years or so, he thought, as Trip gathered Katie up in her carrier and left Malcolm to juggle the umbrella, the picnic basket, the blanket, the diaper bag and the inflatable dinosaur.

Malcolm hadn't been enthusiastic about the beach trip in the first place. He saw all the beaches he wanted in California, and he didn't need to see that many. But Trip was insistent that Malcolm and Katie (principally Katie, Malcolm had no illusions about that) visit the beach where Trip and his sisters had played as children.

Obviously, a lot had changed since those days. When they arrived, the beach was entirely empty. Malcolm wondered how much of that had to do with the fact that it was ten o'clock on a Tuesday morning, and how much had to do with the population loss Florida had suffered.

In either case, Katie wasn't interested in the beach or its familial significance. She sat on the blanket under the umbrella, covered from head to toe in sunscreen, gazing around impassively and occasionally waving her arms, until Trip took her down to the water.

Malcolm hated it, but, even after everything he'd been through, he was still petrified of the water. It seemed ridiculous, but there it was. He had survived the Delphic expanse, he had seen things that would-that had-drive lesser men insane, but he couldn't watch his husband and daughter playing in the surf. Instead, he took a PADD out of the diaper bag and scrolled through a technical journal.

About ten minutes later, a scream distracted him from the latest in warp-coil technology application for armaments. He looked up sharply, just in time to see Trip, about fifty metres from the shoreline, disappear under the surface.

Malcolm jumped to his feet and ran down to the water. He could just see Katie, buoyed up by her water wings, crying as the waves lapped over her, occasionally pushing her under the surface. He couldn't see Trip at all.

Malcom's heart was beating so hard, he wondered if it was going to seize up entirely. He couldn't do this. He could swim, of course. It was a required element of the Starfleet admittance test, and he'd spent a good deal of time in the Starfleet pools. But those were swimming pools, with shallow ends, lifeguards, walls that were never more than a few strokes away. This was the ocean, with big waves, a powerful undertow, and his family who needed him.

Before he could change his mind, Malcolm pulled his T-shirt over his head, kicked off his sandals, and stepped into the water. He ran out as far as he could, stopping cold when he felt the sand disappear from beneath his feet. But another wail from Katie reminded him why he was doing this, and, taking a deep breath, he headed towards her.

The instant he was within reach, Katie clung to him, her chubby arms tightening around his neck. He remembered his training, but Katie was too small for her panic to impede her rescue. He brought her back to shore, peeling her arms off him and setting her down in her carrier, haphazardly clipping one of the belts to one of the buckles to keep her from getting out. He left her, dripping and screaming, under the umbrella and headed back.

From the surface, he couldn't see Trip at all. Which meant one thing. Without stopping to think about it, he dived under the surface and opened his eyes. He saw nothing but green water and occasional wisps of seaweed. He surfaced for a breath and went down a second time. That was when he saw him.

Trip was the size and kind of person they'd had in mind when the trainers had talked about panicking victims. He was bigger and stronger than Malcolm, and if he'd panicked, Malcolm didn't know how he would have rescued him. Reason enough, Malcolm supposed, to be glad Trip was unconscious.

As soon as he could touch the bottom, Malcolm put his feet down and heaved Trip onto the beach. The cause of the problem was immediately clear. A long, bright red gash like a whip-mark ran diagonally from the top of his right thigh to the side of his left calf. All the time he'd spent in sickbay had left Malcolm with a certain knowledge of extra-terrestrial animals, but it was his childhood trips to the seaside that let him recognize a jellyfish sting when he saw one.

Tilting Trip's head back, Malcolm lowered his mouth to his husband's, breathing in and waiting for Trip's chest to rise. Time stopped for a long few moments, until suddenly, Trip gagged, rolled onto his left side, and brought up what looked like half the ocean.

As Trip coughed and gasped, Malcolm went and took Katie out of her carrier, knowing that Trip would want to see she was safe. When he picked her up, Katie's arms went around Malcolm's neck again and she buried her face in his shoulder. Malcolm hugged her back as the enormity of what had happened caught up to him, and he let himself cry.

***

"Looks like Daddy's awake." Malcolm smiled as Trip opened his eyes. As soon as they'd arrived home from the hospital, his mother had insisted Trip go straight to bed, and Malcolm had seconded the order. Mama Tucker had then gone out to buy what she needed to make Trip a consoling five-course barbecue, which meant that Malcolm was alone with Katie. And it was lunchtime.

Well, he thought, he'd already braved the ocean twice today. Surely he could handle a jar of pureed peas and a bit of applesauce. He sat Katie in the highchair and went to get the food. As he turned around, he heard her say, distinctly and very clearly: "Malcolm." It was more like "Malm", actually, but Malcolm didn't care. He turned around and saw her grinning at him, and it happened. He fell in love. And it had only taken a year.

"Hi, darlin'." Trip rubbed his eyes and turned his head on the pillow.

"How do you feel?"

"OK." Katie shifted in his arms, and Malcolm sat her down on top of Trip. Trip kissed her, and Malcolm felt a strange sensation: nothing. No jealousy, no awkwardness, no self-loathing because he didn't feel the way Trip did. He was just happy that his family was safe. His entire family. "How are you?" Trip looked at him, concern evident in his eyes. "What you did, Mal…"

"It was nothing." He sat on the bed beside Trip, Katie crawling over his legs. Malcolm grabbed her before she fell off the edge and kissed her on the forehead before setting her back down between him and Trip. "I feel great."

*** Travis stifled a sigh as he said his good-byes to Malcolm and Trip and waited for Jonathan to join him outside. He liked visiting them. It was a kick to see Malcolm—regimented, controlled Malcolm of all people—wrapped around the little finger of a precocious, talkative three-year-old. And the new baby, the long-awaited Charles Tucker the Fourth, was as cute a kid as Travis had ever seen, and there had been a lot of kids on the 'Horizon.' No, there was only one problem with visiting Malcolm and Trip. Jon couldn't tell the difference between visiting children and living with them, and an afternoon with the Tuckers inevitably led to a discussion about children of their own.

It was going to be the same this time. Five hours of reading stories to Katie and cuddling Charlie and Travis knew Jon was going to start campaigning again. Travis steeled himself to reply to the same old arguments in the same old way (kids were too limiting, Travis was too busy, Jon was too 'mature') as Jon joined him in the flitter.

For a good five minutes, they rode in silence, Travis waiting for what he knew was coming. Except it didn't come. Finally, when they were almost back at Jon's condo, Travis prompted: "Nice seeing the kids again, huh?" Better to get it over with now, Travis told himself.

"Yes," Jon replied, almost absently.

"Katie's a little sweetheart." And clearly very attached to both her parents, although when the time came, she'd wanted Malcolm to put her to bed.

"She's just like Trip."

Travis had to agree with that one. He knew Trip was partial to Malcolm's goodnight kisses, as well. When Jon didn't say anything else, Travis continued: "Do you want to have kids of our own?"

"I don't think so, Trav." Jon smiled at him. "I'd just as soon visit theirs. It's much less work." Travis waited. He knew there was more to it than that, and he was right. "And we can have sex whenever we want. You know, Trip told me they're down to once a week, if they're lucky. Damndest thing, he doesn't even seem to care. I told him I'd baby-sit if they ever want a night to themselves."

"Yeah, OK. Whatever." Travis smiled as he pushed the button to open the garage. He waited until Jon's back was turned before he pumped his fist in the air. As far as he was concerned, if Trip had talked Jon out of the kids idea once and for all, not only he would he baby-sit, he'd pay for a romantic weekend on Risa. Or a night in a no-tell motel with a vibrating bed, whichever they preferred.