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S1.E16 ∙ Shuttlepod One
He lay quietly under the blankets, arms on either side of his body, so still that she kept a vigilant eye on his chest to make sure it was rising and falling. His chin was stubbled, his face drawn - not quite gaunt, thankfully - and dark shadows bloomed like bruises under the sweep of his eyelashes.
She wanted to reach for his hand, wanted to hold his fingers in hers and push her warmth into his skin, but she feared disturbing his slumber. He needed to rest and recover. Instead, she placed two fingers on the back of his hand, feather-light, feeling the coolness of his skin where usually there was warmth, heat, life.
He was her friend. One of her closest friends. She could have lost him. Her eyes lifted briefly to the other bio-bed, where a blond head lay, also in repose; she could have lost them both. But the dark head in front of her drew all her attention.
So she sat, eyes burning with unshed moisture, barely touching his skin, and thought back on the months since a silly question had led to one of the most genuine friendships of her life. Since boarding this ship had brought her one of the people who was becoming integral to her day-by-day equilibrium.
When he awoke, several hours later, both ensigns were at his bedside, welcoming him back with glad smiles and cheer. His friend, the commander, was awake, too, and they shared a smile.
He had no idea that she’d kept vigil. Only a faint memory of the gentle brush of fingers on his hand ghosted through his awareness before being swept away by the relief that his home had survived.
S1.E18 ∙ Rogue Planet
He’d known, as soon as he turned his eyes to her, that she knew what he was up to.
It was difficult to hide his glee from the commander, especially when he saw how her cheeks had rounded as she swallowed her smile. But when she opened her mouth and began embellishing his story, he knew he’d found a kindred spirit.
The way she stood up and walked off without even acknowledging him as a co-conspirator made him proud. He stared after her in admiration and couldn’t prevent a chuckle at the Chief Engineer’s look of horror.
The baton had been offered, and she’d picked it up and run with it.
He was impressed, and he’d make sure she knew it.
S2.E10 ∙ Vanishing Point
No one saw her. No one heard her. Even him. Even Porthos.
Still, he defended her. Even as an hallucination, he told Travis to leave her alone. He listened to her tale.
And throughout, she heard his voice, calling to her. That British accent, crisp, but sounding more and more desperate each time she heard his words.
His voice guided her, gave her strength and persistence to carry on.
And once she was back, the relief in his eyes was clearly visible.
She told him, later, that his voice had been her lifeline.
And he smiled.
S3.E6 ∙ Exile
She wasn’t on the ship. She wasn’t on the bridge. She wasn’t in the Armoury, practising her marksmanship.
She wasn’t there.
They had left her behind. He had left her behind. Left her with an alien, a creature unlike any they had seen before. An alien man who had an inordinate fascination with their communications officer; who had not only entered her mind, but had made her feel as though she was losing her mind.
And he had been unable to help her, unable to figure out that a real problem existed. He cursed himself for his inability to accept what she was experiencing instead of dismissing it as simply being inside her head, because he couldn’t see evidence on his scanners.
Now? He wasn’t with her. He wasn’t there to protect her. He wasn’t there to keep her safe from whatever it was this alien planned. Even though she insisted she wasn't defenceless, he needed to be her shield.
He had to stop thinking about it, or go mad. He’d ensured she was armed, at the least. He’d had to take refuge in the knowledge that she was one of his best pupils, that she was well able to take care of herself, that she was fearless when the moment required it, and fiercely committed to their mission and saving their planet.
She was no pushover. She’d moved beyond her initial trepidation and had proven more than once how competent and dedicated she was. And despite her innate pleasure at meeting new species, exploring new planets, learning new languages, she had never been naïve, instead developing a healthy sense of caution and a better understanding of danger.
Her eyes had flicked to his when the alien had made his request for her to stay, and he knew she wanted him there, her stalwart protector; but he also knew her stubbornness. She would not want him hovering. She would prove her own competence.
So he put his faith in her abilities, her scepticism, her intuition, her training. It was all he could do. And now they were on their way back to retrieve her.
Suddenly, the lights went out. All systems went down. Breathing became difficult. Then all at once, everything was back to normal. Her voice, strong and confident, came through the communications system.
And he could breathe again.
S3.E20 ∙ The Forgotten
She’d watched the temperature rising in his suit. Watched it go beyond acceptable limits. Raised the alarm, and listened as he’d dismissed it.
She knew he was dedicated. Knew he would do whatever it took to save the ship, even at the expense of his own life. It was one of the traits that she admired - and sometimes hated - about him.
Seeing that dedication in action, however, was an exercise in fear and frustration. Yes, his push to keep going was admirable, but dammit, did he not realise that she - that they - were aware of what he was doing?
She’d been hearing his breathing become more laboured, stertorous, as the heat baked him and his EV suit struggled to compensate. She wanted to scream into the microphone, but he wouldn’t thank her for the interruption, and it wasn’t her call to make.
The temperature rose. She couldn’t prevent the note of concern as she gave another warning. The frustration in the captain’s voice grated; she knew they needed this fix to be done, as much as he was concerned about Malcolm. But their leader had become so hard, so obsessed, that sometimes she wondered what - or who - he’d sacrifice to see it through.
He’d already sacrificed his honour, and Malcolm’s at the same time. Now Malcolm looked as though he himself would be the next sacrifice.
Why did their tactical officer have to be so damned bloody-minded? So prepared to risk his life?
Finally it was done, and Trip was calling for the doctor to meet them in the airlock, his voice frantic. It felt as though he was channelling her thoughts. Somehow she managed to keep her seat instead of rushing to the airlock alongside the captain. But she had no right, and she had no permission, so she had to stay where she was, despite the frantic need thrumming through her veins.
By the time she was able to get to Sickbay, he was asleep while they brought down his temperature. There wasn’t much chance for her to sit with him; they were on a tight schedule, and he would be on his feet within the next half-hour, if Phlox was to be believed.
She didn’t dare touch him this time. Unlike before, he was twitchy, clearly much more alert than previously, adrenaline running through him. One touch from her would wake him, and she didn’t want to think about the consequences.
But he was there, alive, in front of her. And that would have to do.
S3.E24 ∙ Zero Hour
She’d been taken. Right off the bridge. And he hadn’t been there. He’d had to watch from the shuttlepod as Enterprise warped away, and then when they’d rejoined the ship, she was gone.
Taken by a species that hated her, that hated them, and been subjected to gods knew what kind of treatment.
He hadn’t been allowed to go with the team to get her back. He’d had to leave her rescue in the hands of his one-time nemesis, Major Hayes. The man to whom he owed a debt he couldn’t repay. The Major had promised to bring her back, and he had, at the expense of his own life.
He’d seen her in Sickbay when he’d been summoned by the doctor to witness Hayes’ final moments. She’d been virtually unrecognisable; pale, almost corpse-like, with livid holes drilled in her delicate temples.
Aboard Degra’s ship, he’d had to give her a treatment for which he wasn’t trained, hoping he wasn’t damaging her brain any further. He’d carefully wrapped her in a blanket, trying to get her to rest. Then his heart had almost stopped in his chest when she’d muttered something about trying to jump, to stop herself from giving them what they wanted. She’d started shaking and crying, and he’d taken her into his arms to offer what comfort he could, careful not to touch the wounds on her temples, until she’d fallen into an uneasy sleep.
Now he watched her on the Xindi weapon, pride swelling in his chest as she pushed through her pain and fear to get the job done. Pushing into the back of his mind thoughts of how, just a short while ago, he’d had to restrain himself from outright attacking his captain for forcing her to carry on with decryption when she was barely conscious and clearly hurting.
He looked at her wan face, and knew he would never tell anyone - would barely acknowledge it to himself - of the sheer satisfaction he’d felt, knocking that Xindi off the platform and down into the core of the weapon.
For what they’d done to her, they could all rot in whatever hell they believed in.
S4.E17 ∙ Bound
Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. And she wanted to hurt him. Them. All of them. The men, gullible fools that they were. The women, green-skinned bitches with sly smiles and sidelong looks.
He’d fallen for their charms with barely a moment’s pause. Him, the captain, the MACOs. All supposedly so well-trained. Hadn’t he been trained to resist interrogation? Couldn’t he tell when he was being manipulated?
She wanted to kick him. Right where the sun didn’t shine, and other, less savoury places. The rest of the men, she’d happily knock some sense into their thick heads. Preferably using a wall.
She saw the same desire in Kelly’s face, looking at Rostov's infatuation. She saw the way Liz frowned at Travis and Tanner, and knew the women understood.
But him. For falling for the wiles of the Orion women? And looking at her across the bridge as though she didn’t exist? He wouldn’t need the transporter to render him infertile when she got through with him.
If only her head would stop hurting.
S4.E21 ∙ Terra Prime
He couldn’t stop the thrill of pride that raced up his spine when he looked at the security footage of the bridge and saw her determination. Watched her stand up to someone who tried to dominate her into following his orders. Saw how the other women in the room looked to her for guidance as the official tried to use his position of power into making her give way to his will.
But the apprehensive communications officer from four years earlier was no more. The woman who stood in her place, courteous but defiant, had a spine of steel, forged over years of experience, sharpened in the fight for their world’s survival.
She had not let their friendship stop her from doing what had to be done, when he’d made his move to let himself be found out. And then she’d pardoned his actions, held him while he’d sobbed, and pushed him to seek forgiveness and understanding from the doctor who’d suffered the most from his deeds. Because of her, one of his dearest friendships had been saved.
A few hours ago, they had seen two of their closest friends mourn a beautiful little soul, lost too soon, created out of hate but remembered with infinite love. And he knew he couldn’t keep going this way, pretending she meant no more to him than a beloved friend.
The door to the observation lounge slid open. He felt her presence without needing to turn his head. She slipped into the seat beside him without saying a word, and he held out his arm, silently offering comfort and seeking it at the same time. Her head on his shoulder, his free hand wrapped in both of hers, they let their sorrow for their friends mingle with the relief of reunion.
The future stared them in the face. They would need to embrace it together.