cloudy_fic

Title: Zodiac: Gemini
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: # 75 "Party" for

slash_100
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: This isn't really a warning, but this is Moira!Fic. Yaye!
Beta: Jessica
Summary: Duality is your [Gemini's] most famous trait.-Joanna Martine Woolfolk, The Only Astrology Book You'll Ever Need
Author's Notes: This is the third in a series of 12 fics loosely based on 12 signs of the astrological zodiac. I say loosely because I am by no means an expert in astrology and I don't intend for these fics to portray every aspect of each sign. Rather, I'm picking out one aspect from the book mentioned in the summary and writing a story based on one or both of the boys displaying that aspect.

And just because I wanna say it, my mom's a Gemini, wheee!

I've known Malcolm Reed for eighteen years. For fourteen of those years, he's been my lover and my partner. Eleven years ago, we adopted a beautiful daughter, Moira and four years ago, we were married in a small ceremony in San Francisco.

Suffice it to say, I know him pretty well. Better than I've known anyone else in my life and I feel certain he could say the same about me. We've lived together for so long, I sometimes forget that others don't see him the way I do.

Case in point, last evening, he and I attended a Christmas party given by Starfleet's Security and Ordinance Department. Malcolm really didn't want to go, not because he dislikes Christmas or even Christmas parties, but because he dislikes parties at work. Malcolm likes to keep home and work separate. He tried to do it on Enterprise, but we wouldn't let him. On Enterprise, it was a bit different because the ship was both work and home.

But now we live in a Victorian style World War III Reconstruction house on Tilden Way, several miles from work and it’s easier to keep them separate. I don't really mind it now because I'm part of his home. Still, I think it's good to be friends with coworkers, so I told him in no uncertain terms that we were going to attend this party and have a lovely time. Hell, forcing him to be friends with coworkers might have been for old time’s sake.

And I think he might have finally agreed for the same reason.

Walking into that party was just a little frightening. There's nothing quite like a room entirely filled with security men and women trying to relax and have a good time. Dozens of pairs of eyes flicked around the room suspiciously for two hours. Actually, it was sort of amusing. Better than watching a bunch of drunk people.

Partway through the evening, I got separated from Malcolm. A group of young eager weapons officers dragged him off to discuss the latest modifications to phase cannons or phasers or you know, I'm not actually sure; they were babbling pretty incoherently. But Malcolm seemed to understand and I guess the thought of talking shop was more appealing than listening to the conversation I was having with one of the other husbands, who happened to have played water polo when he was in college too.

Eventually, that man's wife came and collected him to introduce him to someone else and I was left alone, standing next to a gigantic Christmas tree with an empty punch glass in my hand. I was just about to go in search of company when I noticed someone approaching me. It was Admiral Walter Dancy, the director of the security and weapons training department of Starfleet Academy. I had met him several times, mostly because Malcolm taught one or two classes for the Academy.

"Admiral Archer! How are you?" He grabbed my hand in a hearty grip and shook the hell out of it.

"Well, I'm standing here alone." I looked down at my glass. "With an empty glass." I grinned at him. "I've been abandoned in favor of shaping the minds of Starfleet's youth."

He chuckled. "I really wish I could convince Captain Reed to take on more classes. He's one of our most popular professors."

I had heard that before, though not from Malcolm. He certainly wouldn't have said it that way, but I hear things. Malcolm teaches only higher level classes, the final courses taken before security or tactical officers graduate from the Academy. His classes are always completely full.

"He does enjoy teaching. But he enjoys development more."

He enjoys active duty even more, but since Moira, neither of us had committed to off-world ships or outposts. However, that doesn't stop Starfleet Intelligence from utilizing his tactical expertise here on Earth.

"I can certainly appreciate that. Still, I wouldn't mind if more of our students left the Academy having learned directly from the best. Even if it kills them."

His amused tone piqued my curiosity. "Kills them?"

"You mean he hasn't told you?” He seemed surprised. “Of course, it’s possible he doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?" I began to feel a little alarmed.

"Ah, well. You see...hmmm, how to put this? He has a reputation as..." His voice trailed off and he looked like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was thinking.

"A hardass?" I helpfully provided. He laughed.

"Yes, exactly. He's become somewhat of a barometer for me actually. If I have a student come to my office, begging to switch out of his classes, I know they probably aren't ready for life on the frontlines."

That made sense. For obvious reasons, Malcolm’s classes are specifically related to working in deep space. From what he's told me, he doesn't sugarcoat how it can be out there and I wouldn't want him to. It can be hell, things can come up you've never even thought about preparing yourself for and his students need to know that.

"I have it on good authority that there is an unofficial club of sorts of people who have...survived one of the Captain's classes," Dancy continued.

I glanced over at Malcolm standing across the room, his eyes and voice animated as he discussed his beloved weapons and my grin widened. "A club? Do they have a secret handshake?"

"I'm afraid to say I'm not on the inside, Admiral. But I've heard the whisperings. And I've seen the panic on his student’s faces on test days."

"What the hell does he do to them?" I'd seen Malcolm teach a little, once or twice when I'd dropped by his class early to collect him for lunch and he seemed fairly normal to me. Strict yes, but not without a hint of his sardonic humor.

"Did you ever have a professor in officer training by the name of Ambrose Reynolds?" He asked me instead of answering my question.

The name sent an involuntary shiver up my spine. Professor Reynolds had taught leadership training back when I had gone through school and it had been one of the most difficult classes of my education. He was incredibly demanding and uncompromising. If you didn't give your absolute best, he'd figure it out in a second and make your life a living hell until you got it right. I couldn't wait to get out of that class. Although, I have to admit, even all these years later, I can still remember almost everything I learned from him.

"God, yes," I replied, shuddering slightly. "He was imposs...hold on a second. Are you telling me that Malcolm is the new Professor Reynolds?"

He just smiled and took a drink of his punch.

"But Malcolm's not like that. You couldn't talk to Reynolds. He didn't have a heart," I explained reasonably. "Malcolm's much more approachable." Even now, as I looked over at him with his collection of groupies, I could see his enthusiasm in the way he kept stroking a hand over his chin and the way his eyes were lit up. It was like his heart was right there on his face for all to see.

"How well did you know Professor Reynolds?" Dancy asked quietly, giving me pause. I hadn't had the opportunity to speak with him on a personal level, but then I never really tried.

"Not well at all, actually," I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

"Would it surprise you to know he was married to the same woman for nearly forty-five years?"

Honestly? It did a little, though I already felt stupid about it. "Perhaps."

"Don't feel bad about it. I felt the same way when I heard this story. I had that class myself and when I had it, my study group spent as much time complaining about him as we did actually studying. But someone told me later that he'd been completely devoted to his wife, so devoted in fact that when she lay dying in a hospital of an alien virus, he took a sabbatical from teaching to stay by her side for three months. And when she finally did die, he never stopped wearing his wedding ring. They had five kids. Five! Can you imagine having him a father?" One corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "If you had told me that during the class, I would have felt incredibly sorry for those kids. Now...well, now I'm thinking they were lucky to have such a good man for a father."

Images of Malcolm and Moira swirled through my mind. I saw Malcolm stretched out on our couch, a three-month old Moira lying on his chest, both sleeping peacefully. I saw him with Moira at four, sitting at her little table in a ridiculously small chair, being treated to a cup of tea with three teddy bears and a stuffed rabbit. And I thought of this morning, when they had danced through our kitchen together because Moira had wanted to practice a tango she'd seen at her dance school.

And while it was an incredibly sobering thought, I knew that if either Moira or myself was sick in the hospital, you wouldn't be able to pry Malcolm from our bedside.

"I had no idea," I murmured.

"Neither does Captain Reed's students. Truthfully, I think you're right. He is much more approachable than Reynolds. They do, however, have a similar teaching style. That's one of the reasons I wish he’d do more classes. I never forgot what Reynolds taught me."

After that, the conversation turned to other matters, work, politics and things of that nature, but I couldn't get what he told me out of his head. And I thought about it all night. For a long time, I couldn't reconcile the image of Reynolds standing at the front of his classroom, his face betraying nothing as he verbally sparred with us and the image I have of Malcolm in my mind, laying beside me in bed, a soft smile on his face. When I'd gone to his class those few times, I still saw that image. I still saw the man I've shared my life with for fourteen years, the man I love.

At one point, after Moira had been sent to bed, I walked into our living room to see Malcolm working at our computer. He had a look of intense concentration on his face and his body was rigid. It forcibly reminded me of how he'd been when we first met and knew each other only as Captain and Lieutenant. I can't tell you how many times I looked over at his station to see him with that same pose, but it was like I'd forgotten about that time. It seemed so far away, so removed from how we now saw each other.

He looked up at me after I'd been staring for just a moment and smiled. Any evidence of tension fell away, the lines smoothed and his eyes came alive. In that second, Captain Reed became my Malcolm and then everything I’d been pondering seemed perfectly clear. I felt gratitude heavily settle over me, like it was a blanket I could wrap myself up in and I smiled back at him. He must have noticed the change that came over me because he cocked his head at me and lifted an eyebrow.

"What?"

I just shook my head and sat on the couch, offering my hand to him. "Come here."

Apparently deciding to leave it be for a moment, he stood and carefully settled himself in my lap. I held him close, stroking his hair and thinking about my revelation.

There are two Malcolms. One is the consummate professional, the stern instructor, the young lieutenant who didn't believe in fraternization. That Malcolm is the one the world gets, the one I got for so long when I first knew him. The other is the man who danced with Moira this morning, the one who tells me he loves me every day, the one who cried himself to sleep on my chest when his mother passed away. Both are genuine. It's not as if Malcolm is reserved in public because he's trying to hide something. It's just his nature. He needs to trust completely before he can allow that other part of him show, before he's willing to share.

And it had been so long since I'd been let in that I had almost completely forgotten what it was like to be on the outside. I’d forgotten that just because I saw his soul in his eyes, it didn’t mean that everyone else did. Suddenly, I felt sorry for all those other people who hadn’t taken the time to find the private Malcolm and I vowed never to forget how fortunate I was ever again.

When we finally found our way to bed, I took him into my arms, kissed him and told him I’d love every part of him until the day I died.

It will be my greatest joy.

END