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The water was hot enough to scald; perhaps it might scald away his shame, he thought. He hoped. As he stood under the shower, washing away the grime of the last few days in the brig, hope seemed like a far-away dream as far as his peace of mind was concerned.
Sighing, Malcolm scrubbed at his face and hair with the shower gel, watching the last of the suds wash down the drain along with the shaving cream and remnants of his stubble that he’d removed before even stepping into the shower. He gave himself a cursory rub-down with the rough towel before dragging on a pair of sweats and a black t-shirt, throwing the towel back into the shower cubicle instead of hanging it neatly as was his wont.
He sank down onto his neatly-made bed, staring into space. Walking onto the bridge had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, seeing the shock in Travis’ eyes and even a flare of quickly-concealed surprise in T’Pol’s.
He’d glanced to his left upon exiting the turbolift, but Hoshi had been bent over her console, her back to him, one hand at the device in her ear as she concentrated on deciphering the codes in front of her. By the time he’d made it to his terminal and replaced the ensign there, she’d been alerted by Travis, and was looking up and across the bridge at him, her face neutral, her eyes hopeful but uncertain.
Malcolm had steeled himself to keep his face utterly blank, and had watched hers shutter in response. With the tiniest of nods, she’d turned back to her console, and there hadn’t been time to consider anything other than weapons preparations before the battle with the Klingons had begun.
He hadn’t had much chance to talk to Trip; the chief engineer was caught up with engine repairs and his own interpersonal issues with T’Pol and Archer. He’d sat at his regular corner table in the mess hall, isolated as usual, crew members giving him a wide berth; but Hoshi, Trip, and Travis had never made an appearance.
Now here he was, alone in his room, and - well. Just alone.
Not that he didn’t deserve it. He’d lied to Hoshi and the rest - let them believe that he was a good man. And he himself had started believing it, too. Right up until he’d seen that livid bruise on her face. He’d wanted to kill whomever had put it there. And so he’d given in to Harris and done - this. Allowed Phlox to be put in harm’s way, allowed the killers of the Rigelians to get away. The Rigelians who had hurt Hoshi.
She’d followed the trail he’d left for her and had had to be the one to throw him under the bus. He’d used her to get caught, and though it had been so she couldn’t be accused and could be avenged, the fact was he hadn’t actually given her a choice in the matter.
The door chimed. Malcolm sighed and stood up, expecting his visitor to be Trip, wanting to know what the hell was going on between him and Archer. But when he opened it, Hoshi stood outside. He stared at her blankly, and she fidgeted uncomfortably with the hem of her shirt.
“May I come in?”
He stepped back wordlessly and indicated that she should enter, and she walked to the middle of the room and turned, waiting for him to close the door and join her.
Malcolm stopped a few steps away from Hoshi, carefully keeping his hands at his sides. His throat felt constricted and his head had started pounding. He hadn’t expected to see her. He hadn’t expected that she still wanted to talk to him. He didn’t know what he could say to her to make it right.
“I–Malcolm,” she said uncertainly when he didn’t speak. One hand fluttered toward him and then back to her side, clutching at her shirt once again. She looked at him and then away, biting her lip in an agony of indecision.
Then, before he could move, she flung herself at him and latched on, her arms tight around him, her face buried in his shoulder. And as soon as she was pressed against him, he felt her let out a shuddering breath and relax. His arms went around her, almost involuntarily, and he heard her give a tiny, clogged whimper and then whisper, “I missed you so much.”
He was never sure afterward if it was the small break in her voice, the strength with which she held onto him, her clear trust in him, specifically, as she enfolded him, or the sheer relief that flooded him at her acceptance. He felt his chest heave, tried to keep himself in check, and then he was weeping into her neck, clutching at her like a lifeline.
His knees began to buckle and he sagged to the floor, sobbing as though his heart would break. Hoshi followed, her grip still firm and tight, and she knelt before him, murmuring soft words of encouragement and comfort as she rubbed soothing circles into his back.
“I–I’m sorry, Hoshi,” he managed, when he was finally able to catch his breath. “Can you forgive me?”
“I already have, Malcolm,” she murmured, her lips against his dark hair. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very brave, though. I went to see you in the brig a few times, but I couldn’t pluck up the courage to go inside. I just watched you from the outside.” She sighed, and drew him closer. “So I’m sorry, too. You must have felt so isolated and abandoned.”
He pulled away from her slightly so he could see her face. She met his wet eyes, biting her lip. “You have nothing to apologise for, Hoshi,” he reassured her. “I’m the one who made a stupid decision and nearly cost Phlox his life and myself my career. I’m the one who abused everyone’s trust.”
She reached up to gently wipe away the tear tracks with her thumb. “That’s over now,” she said softly. “I don’t know exactly why you did what you did; the captain told me it was classified. Frankly, I don’t know if I want to know.” She paused, and looked at him intently. “But I know that - subconsciously, at least - you wanted to be caught. It just happened that I was the one who did the catching.”
Malcolm swiped at his eyes; for some reason they were blurring once again. Hoshi knew what he’d done?
With a soft laugh at the look on his face, she continued, “You were so blatant about putting the device into a locker you’d used, with your name on it - if you’d wanted to, you could have made damn sure no one would find what you’d done. But you didn’t conceal your tracks at all, you left big red signs.” Again she paused, and wiped at the tear tracks once more. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
This time he reached up to take hold of her fingers and squeeze. “I should have known you’d figure it out,” he murmured. “In fact I probably wanted you to. Having you think the worst of me was excruciating.”
“Malcolm, we love you, and we know you,” Hoshi said reassuringly. “We’re your family. And the Malcolm Reed we know wouldn’t willingly send one of us into danger without a damn good reason, or a plan to get us out of that danger.” He dropped his gaze before hers, and she squeezed his shoulder. “Things might not have gone according to your plan, but we all know you wouldn’t knowingly do Phlox harm. Even in the captain’s anger, he could admit that much.”
Malcolm sighed. “I was so stupid, listening to Harris and trusting that he would do right by Phlox. I should have told the captain right away.”
Hoshi leaned forward and touched her forehead to his, her thumbs stroking his cheeks over the soft downy bits below his eyes. “Yes, you could have, and yet here we still are - Phlox safe, Klingon society staving off the worst effects of that mutation with his help, some outstanding heroics at warp speed under your supervision … and your Enterprise family knowing that you’ll sacrifice yourself for us at the cost of your career and reputation.”
His eyes darted to hers, a little disbelieving, and she smiled before sitting back on her heels.
“You'll need to speak to Phlox, of course," she said matter-of-factly. "It's all well and good for us to forgive you, but he deserves to hear the whys and wherefores from you directly. It's only right."
He wanted to argue, shrinking at the thought of facing the man he'd seemingly thrown to the wolves; but he knew Hoshi was right. He couldn't consider himself forgiven if not by Phlox, or, at the very least, until he'd confessed and cleared the air. If Phlox didn't forgive him, well, the Denobulan was well within his rights to make that decision. But Malcolm couldn't avoid what needed to be said to the doctor. To his friend. So he nodded, meeting Hoshi's concerned eyes.
"I will," he said, a little shakily. "I promise. I'll speak to him. It's only right." His voice firmed as he spoke, and he felt Hoshi's fingers tighten where she'd taken hold of his. She nodded, taking his promise at face value, and he felt his tension ease a little at her easy trust that he would keep his word.
"Now all we need is to persuade Trip to come back.”
Malcolm grimaced. “That’s something I can’t help with, I’m afraid.”
“No; we’ll have to leave it up to T’Pol.”
A small sigh slipped past her lips, and Malcolm straightened, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. Perhaps it was time to recover their routines. No matter what Hoshi said, she'd been rattled by what had happened, and a return to normalcy was needed.
“I didn’t do much reading while I was in the brig,” he said carefully. Hoshi’s eyes darted to his, and he watched them crinkle at the corners.
“Neither did I,” she acknowledged.
“Shall we pick up where we left off?”
“If you’ll do the reading this time. I didn’t bring my book, anyway.”
Malcolm nodded, and as he fetched his book, Hoshi arranged herself on his couch, so he could lean against her knees and she could sink her fingers into his hair as he read, scratching his scalp in a light, familiar rhythm, offering soothing comfort for both.