Gigi Sinclair

Trip loved kids. Right from the start, that dead miner's son had reminded him of his nephews back home. When the boy started asking him questions and talking about becoming a pilot—well, Trip's heart was lost. He didn't mind in the least when, after the last exhausting day of preparation, Tessic had come to their camp and told him, somewhat bitterly, that the boy was refusing to go to sleep until Trip came to say good-night.

The colonists were spending the night-possibly their last-huddled together in tents. The boy was lying in a sleeping bag beside his mother. When Trip arrived, she gave them a weak, indulgent smile and slipped outside.

"You know what you're gonna do tomorrow, right, buddy?" Trip sat on the ground beside him.

"Hide," the boy replied, reluctantly. "But it's not fair. I could help…"

"You will. When all this is over and we're on our way, you're gonna be a real good help putting the place back together. Not to mention all that extra deuterium they'll need a hand with."

The kid remained unimpressed. "But I want to help you beat the Klingons!"

"You know what? You're exactly like Brandon."

"Brann'Dohn?"

"My nephew. Two of you are like peas in a pod. Every time his daddy went out marlin fishing, Brandon wanted to go with him." Trip smiled at the memory, then realized the boy had no idea what a marlin was. Or a fish.

"That's a real big animal that lives in the water. Of course, it was never good enough for Brandon to steer the boat and hold the nets and that kinda stuff, he always wanted to bring the marlin in. And, you know what, once, his daddy let him do it. Know what happened?"

The boy shook his head, grinning in anticipation. "The marlin was pulling on his line, and Brandon was pulling right back. His arms were hurting real bad, but he wouldn't let his daddy take over. Finally, just when Brandon thought he had it, he slackened the line a little and…" Trip paused dramatically, the kid hanging on his every word. "The marlin pulled him right over the edge of the boat. His daddy had to get him out of the water. Course, everyone thought that'd be the last time Brandon'd ever go fishing, but the very next week, he was begging his dad to take him again."

The boy laughed. Trip leaned forward and tickled the kid's ribs, which only made him laugh harder. It didn't take long for Trip to tire himself out. He hadn't realized how much his back was hurting, not to mention his arms. He wouldn't have thought it would be that painful to physically move an entire village.

"You ready to go to sleep now?" The boy nodded. "Good. And don't forget what I told you. Tessic and your mama and the others are gonna need you to help bring in the marlins every week. And you can't do that if you're…" He was going to say 'dead', but then he realized that might not be the best thing to say to a kid. "Not around." He nodded and Trip stood up, his knees cracking. "Night."

"Good night, Commander Tucker."

The first person Trip saw when he got back to their part of the camp was Malcolm, sitting on the ground in front of the tent, his weapons beside him.

"Paying a little 'comfort call', Commander?" Malcolm stroked the phase pistol he was currently tending to. His voice had a distinctly sarcastic tone to it, which Trip put down to stress. He wasn't feeling that great himself.

"You could say that, Lieutenant."

"And who is the lucky lady?"

"What?"

"That you were visiting. Knowing you, it has to be a woman. Probably one of the young ones, definitely one of the pretty ones."

"You're wrong, Malcolm." Trip knew he should be offended, but he was too tired. "It was that kid. The one whose dad got killed by the Klingons. He's feelin' kinda bad cause I wouldn't let him fight." Trip thought about heading into the tent, but decided he needed a break before walking that far. Instead, he sat down beside Malcolm. "I told him your rule was you had to be as tall as the gun to carry it."

"Oh." Malcolm looked up, then back down. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK." Trip sighed. "I guess I can't really blame you." There was a lengthy pause, which Trip eventually broke with: "Where's everyone else?"

"I think they've gone to sleep. Preparing for tomorrow."

"Right. Good idea. We should join 'em."

"Yes."

Trip stretched, the muscles in his arms protesting. He was dead on his feet, but he knew there was no chance he would sleep, even if he went to bed. Feeling a little foolish, Trip swallowed and said: "Malcolm, can I ask you something?"

Malcolm put down the phase pistol and picked up another, without looking at him. "Yes."

"Are you…" He trailed off. Of course it was a stupid question. This was Malcolm, for God's sake. "Forget it."

"No." Malcolm put down the pistol, blinking. The sun had gone down hours earlier, and the only light came from the lanterns they'd set up around the perimeter. "What do you want to ask?"

"Are you scared?"

Another lengthy pause. Just as Trip was about to make his excuses and escape to the tent, Malcolm replied: "Yes."

Trip was amazed. Not so much at Malcolm's feelings, but that he'd admit them. "But you've faced the Klingons before."

"With a large, fully trained security staff. In a situation I was comfortable with."

"And here…"

"Here, I don't know what's going to happen." Malcolm shrugged. "Sorry. Did you want me to reassure you?"

"That was kind of the idea." Trip actually wasn't sure why he'd asked the question, but it seemed as good a reason as any.

"Everything will be fine, Trip." Malcolm declared, in a loud, falsely cheerful voice. "We'll be back on 'Enterprise' eating pecan pie and playing poker in no time. Won't that be lovely?"

"Malcolm."

"Too much?"

"A little." But Trip found himself smiling anyway.

Malcolm smiled back. "If we have to go, it won't be without a fight."

"I'd just as soon not go," Trip admitted.

"It's a worthy cause."

"According to the captain." The words were out before Trip could stop them. And before he could remember that, of everyone on board, Malcolm was probably the last person he should be sharing insubordinate thoughts with.

"Ours is not to reason why," was Malcolm's reply. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

They hadn't shared a tent since the rogue planet. Trip had enjoyed that, and he enjoyed this. He'd never admit it to anyone, but if he it was going to be the last night of his life, at least he was spending it near Malcolm.

Which was another kettle of marlin. Trip got into his sleeping bag and watched as Malcolm did the same on the other side of the tent. Malcolm was attractive. Very attractive. He'd noticed it for the first time when they'd been suffering from their obsessive disorders, when Malcolm had made him so angry Trip had wanted to kill him. But then, the anger had subsided, and he'd been left with the realization of just how dedicated, professional, and intense Malcolm was. Not to mention how sexy he looked when he was pissed off.

Not that Malcolm would ever go for it. Trip didn't know if Malcolm liked men, but he was sure he wouldn't ever get involved with a superior officer. He'd all but told Jon that.

Still, if this was the last night of their lives…

"Malcolm?" He whispered it, in case he was already asleep.

"Yes?"

"Do you…" Shit, Trip sighed. This shouldn't have been so hard. After all, they'd survived the shuttle pod together. The shuttle pod. Trip smiled in the dark. Perfect. "Don't you feel like writing farewell letters to all your old girlfriends?"

Silence. Just as Trip was wondering if he had said the wrong thing, or if Malcolm had dropped off, he said: "About that, Trip. They weren't…they weren't exactly girlfriends. Not all of them, anyway. Caitlin and I dated for a couple of months, but the rest were just friends."

"Really?" Trip didn't know whether that should raise his hopes or dash them. "You told me…"

"I know. I thought we were going to die. I didn't want you to spend our last hours thinking I was some kind of lonely loser."

"I wouldn't have thought that." More silence. "You know, Malcolm, as long as we're confessin', I haven't had that many girlfriends, either. I mean, there was Natalie, and Lisa, and a couple others, but that's about it." Trip stared at the barely visible ceiling. "Maybe that's why we ended up in the basement on Risa. We got lousy technique."

"Speak for yourself." Malcolm sniffed. "My technique is fine. It's just always worked better on men."

At first, Trip didn't know whether he'd heard right. Then, he wondered if Malcolm was joking. Then, he realized there was one ideal way to find out.

He climbed out of his sleeping bag and crossed the tent. Even in the dark, Trip's mouth had no trouble finding Malcolm. Kneeling beside Malcolm's sleeping bag, he hesitantly brought their lips together. Any doubts he had flew out the window-or at least the tent flap-when Malcolm opened his mouth and pulled Trip's tongue in.

"Malcolm?"

Malcolms arms came up around him, drawing Trip even closer. As Malcolm's tongue found Trip's earlobe, Trip distinctly heard: "I want you." And it was all the encouragement Trip needed.

***

The Klingons wouldn't be bothering the mining colony anymore. They'd made sure of that. Although, in hindsight, Trip wasn't sure why he'd worn the headband. The best he could come up with was that it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Just like having sex with Malcolm. They'd been back on 'Enterprise' for eight hours, and Malcolm hadn't even spoken to him. Of course, they'd both been busy.

First, there had been the mission debriefing, then Malcolm had been holed up the armoury evaluating all of his weapons and writing up the repair orders. Trip was in his quarters, wondering whether he should go and speak to Malcolm while knowing full well that he would do no such thing, when his door chimed.

"Malcolm?" Trip tried to sound pleasantly surprised, rather than nervously surprised. He could imagine what Malcolm was going to say next. How it had been great, once, when they thought they were going to die, but now they were back onboard ship, it would be better that things returned to normal. They'd already had that conversation, several times, in Trip's head, so when Malcolm said:

"Why haven't you come to see me?" Trip was taken completely aback. He hadn't expected Malcolm to deviate from the script.

"I thought…I mean…"

"Was it a one-night stand to you?"

"Of course not!" Trip put in quickly, then added: "I mean, unless you want…"

Malcolm leaned against his desk. "The thing about being out here, Trip, is that we never know what might happen. We could die at any time. Every night could be our last."

It was the most romantic thing Trip had ever heard. "Does that mean you want to do it again?"

Malcolm smiled, and Trip's heart seized. "Yes, please."

***

"Tessic…" Tessic looked down at the boy beside him, who was tottering under the weight of a heavy crate.

"Is that too heavy?" Ever since the strangers had left, there had been a renewed sense of hope in the community. People were smiling again, and Tessic hadn't seen that in years.

"No, I'm fine." The child puffed. "But could you take me out to the Darrick reservoir one day? I want to see if I can catch a marr'linn."