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“Good morning, love…How are you feeling?” The Southerner gently brushed his fingertips over his partner’s shoulder blade before taking a few fast steps to his chair. The older man grumbled in response to the touch, sounding far more unappreciative than probably intended. Trip examined him carefully, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes, the unusually pale face and sore skin, the light tremor in his left hand. God really had no mercy for him, if there is one.
“You came late to bed last night, what did you do?”
“Not much.” Trip was expecting a few words further explaining anything at all but he was waiting for nothing. After a few moments of rather awkward silence he sighed, merely a little disappointed. His lover had never been a very eloquent man but lately he tended to keep his mouth shut for nearly every waking hour.
“Malcolm…You’ve got to talk to me…How am I supposed to tell the doc how you’re feeling if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”
“Trip, look. I just don’t fancy talking about it. I’m fine. See? I’m living, I’m breathing, I’m eating, it’d be great if I could do some more tasks because I can’t stand doing nothing all day and you from all people should know that best.” Entirely overwhelmed by the sheer wall of words – at least compared to the past days – the Southerner had to swallow the lump in his throat before he was remotely able to answer. Of course, Malcolm had never enjoyed days with little to do either, but especially now he was bound to indulge into a simple life. Still, when Trip noticed that the tremor in his lover’s hand was increasing, he put down the fork and shifted in his chair.
“Darling…I know you don’t like doing nothing but you’re not fine, we both know that. Okay, look, this is not fine…And, unless you can tell me you’ve been sleeping well for over a week and the tremor in your hand has stopped for at least a few hours in between, I cannot tell the doc you’re fine. You know that…” Trip wasn’t too surprised by the rather harsh hiss of his lover, the grumbling and groaning of disappointment, but he knew that Malcolm understood. Or, more, that he already knew it himself.
“I know it’s hard for you to accept that…I know most of your life people didn’t give a damn about your well-being but, Mal…I do. I give a damn…And right now, I can see that you need help…And some quiet change, maybe…”
“What were you thinking of…?” There was no hint of emotion behind the phrase itself, at most you could call it curiosity but even that was a lot of interpretation. The Brit just took a sip from his tea and stared at his partner with tired eyes.
“I’m thinking of moving, Mal. It’d be better.”
“For whom?”
“For you. And for Charlie as well, he’s about to turn three, we could get him into a nursery school soon. He’s safer in San Francisco, we all are.” Trip expected a lot of backtalk, insults, a fight even – none of that came. Instead, Malcolm simply leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.
“Fine. Just one more question. Why San Francisco?”
“The apartment was gorgeous, Mal. We could take it after all. I know maybe it’ll be hard at first because of what happened there but can’t we see it as a sign to start over with a new chance…?” There was a pleading tone in his voice, a nuance of hope and fear at the same time which caught Malcolm off-guard. He couldn’t help but give in, especially now that Trip deserved to get all hope he could find.
“Fine. I figure you have a whole plan worked out already, don’t you, Mister Tucker…?”
“I do, actually…Thank you, love…I promise, it’ll be for the best.”
“Of course.”
“Now, please finish your breakfast, I’ll go and talk to Jon about this…If this plate isn’t completely empty I’ll have to call the doc and we’re back to dietary supplements.” It was more of a joke he dropped while standing up, but his voice kept a daring hint, just to make sure his partner understood. He indeed did, a wry smile was certainty enough for the Southerner. In fact, Malcolm hadn’t eaten much before the incident, right after that they couldn’t help but work with liquid diet and pills. Now that he was back to normal nutrition, Trip had to watch his rations carefully, he couldn’t risk anything. Not now.
*
“San Francisco?”
“Yeah…I figured it’d make sense, you know, with the apartment down there and always close to Starfleet and the command…” Trip leaned onto the desk of his friend and captain who stood only a few inches away, facing the wall, his arms crossed, considering every word that was said. He didn’t like the idea of his friend leaving but he could understand their decision very well.
“Oh, trust me, I’d be the last one to complain if you move to my hometown! I’m just surprised.”
“He can’t do this anymore, Jon…He’s been strong for too long, you’ve seen what all of this is doing to him…” The two men looked at each other, sharing a soft, empathetic smile. Only two weeks had passed since the incident, talking about it was a common daily action, yet nobody really talked about it. After all, nobody had really expected anything like it.
“I sure have seen that, yes…How is he doing now, anyway?”
“He’s coping. It takes time, the medication is doing its job but it’s hard enough to make sure he actually takes it. You know, he isn’t the greatest proponent of meds…” Trip looked at the floor, shifting uncomfortably as all the pictures came flashing before his eyes. He tried to shake them off but, after pushing them away every now and then trying to keep himself busy, he couldn’t take it much longer.
Jonathan noticed the grief and the agony in his best friend’s eyes as he turned around to face him. He took a few steps towards him, gently placing a supporting hand on his shoulder.
“We’re all right behind you, Trip. We’ll support you and Malcolm no matter what. And little Charlie will always be Enterprise’s little baby boy, you know that…”
“I know, I know…Thank you, Jon. I just – I knew something would happen some time, the virus was the knell for black times but recovery was surprisingly good, it was like a miracle…So was Charlie but…”
“Miracles don’t last very long, do they…?” Jonathan didn’t let go of his friend, he knew for sure that Trip simply needed a bit of support, if only for a few minutes. Certainly, Charlie and Malcolm had been a great and healthy addition to his life and they definitely made him happy. As far as Jon could tell, Malcolm always supported Trip, even if they weren’t entirely in complete agreement. Still, life didn’t mean it too well with him, too many dark things had happened, crushing the positivity they had tried to keep up all the time.
“You’re right, they don’t last very long…War destroyed him, Jon…War absolutely destroyed him, he was a wreck, physically and mentally…We all have scars from those times but honestly? He’s still crushed…He’s never been made for this military life, the life in a uniform, suiting a role he was given decades ago, following orders to keep up his manliness…” Trip’s voice cracked as he took a sharp breath, trying to get a grip of himself. The captain wasn’t too sure but he could bet that his friend tried to hold back tears, swallowing the pain and fear he had captured for so long already.
“Trip – please, I’m your friend…It’s fine…”
“No. Really, thank you, but…I just wanted to let you know about our plans, not complain about my oh-so-bad life. After all, we’re lucky, aren’t we? They call us heroes, Charlie will have a happy and safe life now that the war is over. We don’t have any serious lasting injuries…”
“Just because you are lucky doesn’t mean you have to be happy. The luck of someone does not define the grief behind it. I’m glad you found a safe place and I am sure this is the right thing to do…Even though, I must admit, I’ll miss you. And there’s nobody who could remotely be qualified enough to take your place!” Knowing very well that it was meant to be a joke, Trip smiled at his friend, not strong enough yet to actually share a laugh, but glad enough for the mental support and the kind words of his captain. There was not much more that needed to be said and not much more he wanted to say for now, hence he took off without another word, heading back to his quarters.
**
It was late in the evening when Trip stood next to Charlie’s crib, holding the little boy in his arms. Charlie was a generally quiet toddler but once in a while he would throw a tantrum about the stupidest things. This time, he had started screaming because his food wasn’t warm anymore – which only happened because he insisted to let it cool down to room temperature.
Now, the little boy was still whimpering a little but the exhaustion was showing on his tiny face, his eyelids falling shut every few seconds, the mouth gaping wide open as he let out a yawn.
Finally, Trip could hear a snoring sound from the small body. A sigh of relief escaped his chest before he carefully put Charlie down, gently wrapping him into the blanket.
“Is he sleeping…?” Trip turned around in surprise, the voice of his partner had startled him as he hadn’t expected to speak to him before the next day. He threw a loving glance at the little boy before nodding into his lover’s direction.
“Yeah…Finally. I think all the crying made him tired…”
“Probably. What did Jonathan say?”
“Well…”, Trip lazily strode out of the room, turning off the lights before walking into the bedroom with his lover. He took his time considering what to say and what to keep as a matter for another day. “He’ll miss us but he definitely supports the idea…And, you can guess, he likes the idea of us living in his hometown…”
“Of course. You don’t mind if I leave all the planning to you for now, do you?”
“No…! No, no, don’t worry. I’ve got everything figured out already anyway…You better see that you recover quickly, else moving will be pretty tough, hm…?” Trip sat down on the bed, watching his lover pulling off his clothes. It seemed to be the first day they’d go to sleep together and not several hours apart. However, the tremor in his left hand made it impossible for Malcolm to unbutton his shirt and Trip could perceive his anger with the sudden cursing under his breath.
“Darling, watch your language, please…You can’t tell me to be all formal and nice with my choice of words and then cuss like there’s no tomorrow…Wait, let me do that.”
He stood and hastened to his lover, easily unbuttoning his shirt and helping him to pull it off. Malcolm would have loved to snarl at Trip for that comment but he knew that, after all, Trip was just caring for him. Too much cussing meant toxic negativity on his mind and that was, in fact, what he was supposed to get rid of.
“Thank you…Trip, love…say, would you mind holding me tonight?”
“Of course not, I’ll gladly do it…Darling…” Trip was after all startled by the sudden change in his partner’s demeanor, the amount of words they exchanged today, the early bedtime, the pet name – it had been several weeks since he had lastly used one on Trip.
The Southerner wrapped his arms around Malcolm’s hips, placing his chin on his shoulder. His hands were slowly fondling his lover’s stomach, caressing the sore skin. All the worry about his lover had made Trip push some distance between them in order to not get too sad over the cold, abrasive behavior of his partner. Now he was longing for his touch, noticing that, seriously, Malcolm wasn’t fine at all, but he was getting so much better.
“You’re looking pretty fine today, darling…”
“Why, thank you, Mister Tucker…” There was a hint of flirtatiousness in Malcolm’s voice as he leaned into his lover’s touch, longing for it just as much. The caring, gentle touch, warm hands caressing his chest and belly, the playful nibbling at his earlobe - he really had missed that as well. It was going to be better from now on, gradually, everyday a little more. Still, they’d have a long way to go, a very long and pretty exhausting way. It’d be worth it, that was for sure, because their reward would be happiness at the end of the road. And they were both ready to take that road after all this time.
*