FIC: Circle's End, 6/16
Feb. 22nd, 2007 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloudy_ficTitle: Circle's End, Part Six
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairings: Archer/Reed, T'Pol/Tucker
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tookish_girl. Thanks!
Warnings: Still not deathfic. Also, major cursing on Jon's part.
Summary: Ten years after an explosion on an alien planet, Jon and Malcolm deal with two very different realities.
Author's Notes: Omg, so here's this part finally. Again, I'm terribly sorry about the delay!
"Jonathan?"
T'Pol's voice only just barely filtered into Jonathan's consciousness. The PADDs laid out before him on the desk filled his mind almost to the brink, allowing little else, but work to enter his thoughts.
"Hmmmm?"
The most difficult part of the negotiation would be getting all the Alearan governors to agree upon every part of the Federation's policies, especially the governors from the largely rural areas and those from the lesser continents. Matein hadn't been quite as eager to discuss those regions as Jonathan thought he would be. And he had a feeling it was really beginning to bother Teilani...
"Jonathan?"
He started in surprise, not realizing that T'Pol had walked fully into the room and now stood near his right shoulder. The look on her face suggested that she had said his name more than just the two times he'd heard so far.
"I'm sorry, T'Pol. I'm a little distracted," he apologized, gesturing to the many work PADDS on the desk. She glanced at them, her quick eyes scanning, possibly to count them, Jonathan couldn't be sure, never really could be sure what she was thinking at any given moment. "What's going on?"
"Trip and I are going to have breakfast out of the hotel this morning. He saw a restaurant yesterday he wanted to experience. He said it was, 'right fancy'," T'Pol explained without a hint of humor, which made Jonathan laugh more than her actual words. "I came to ask you to join us."
"Where's Trip?"
"He is not yet finished getting ready. Our room has a large bathtub." She wrinkled her nose. "I can only hope he does not decide to stay in it forever."
"I'm sure he'll find his way out eventually," Jonathan commented. "For food if nothing else."
T'Pol didn't quite roll her eyes. "I would not be surprised if he simply asked me to bring him something."
"Yeah, me either." He stretched his long arms over his head, grunting a little at the effort and lamenting the aging process. "Actually, I already ate breakfast in here. I'd love to go, but I have to finish this work. It'd be good to know I won't have any distractions actually."
"Yes, I am sure it would." She turned to leave, but stopped before reaching the door. "Are you certain you'll be ok by yourself?"
"Hmmm?"
His mind had already turned back to his work and for a moment, he didn't quite understand her question. Being alone had never been a problem for Jonathan, but then he remembered where he was and what was most likely on T'Pol's mind.
"Oh yes. No, everything's fine. I've felt pretty good since yesterday." Going to the memorial really had helped bring him a measure of peace with being on this world. It didn't mean that he was going to buy a house here anytime soon, but he could keep his mind on his work well enough now.
"Of course," she said, though Jonathan could see that she didn't really understand why it was ok now and hadn't been before. "Your meetings are over at 1800 hours, correct?"
He nodded. "Oh, meant to tell you this before. Matein's invited us all for dinner at the Assembly Hall. 2000 hours."
"I'll inform Trip then. Have a good day, Jonathan." And she opened the door and left.
Jonathan spared a moment to contemplate how the years had changed everyone he knew in ways he would have never guessed before work claimed his thoughts once more. He had only worked for about five minutes when his door opened again and Trip stuck his head in.
"Hey, you sure you don't wanna come? You gotta see this place, Jon. It's built inside of a mountain or something," he enthused. Jonathan just stared at him.
"Get out of here."
"I'm just saying, you can see the rock layers in the walls."
"Seriously, get out of here."
Trip snickered. "Don't work too hard, Jonny." Jonathan heard T'Pol saying something from the hallway and though he couldn't hear the words, she sounded slightly impatient.
"Yeah, yeah."
He shut the door behind them. Jonathan decided to call down to the lobby to ask for no interruptions, just in case. Last evening, he'd had several unexpected calls from various politicians hoping for private meetings with the head of the UFP delegation and he didn't want to deal with it again while he was working. Having quickly made the call, he turned back to the PADDs and was able to work in peace for nearly twenty minutes.
But then his comm buzzed. The noise was such a surprise that Jonathan almost didn't hear it. When his mind finally identified the niggling sound, he grabbed it up without thinking and answered tersely.
"Yes?"
A feminine voice echoed from the other end.
"Admiral Archer? This is Yoiru from the lobby. I'm terribly sorry to bother you."
His eyes still rested on the PADD he'd been working on, the chief agricultural products of Aleara scrolling through his mind's eye.
"It's ok," he said distractedly. Those gurean fruits would probably be a popular export to the Federation. He'd had some at dinner last evening and they were simply amazing.
"...to see you. He says it's a matter of life and death."
He? Life and death? Jonathan's mind immediately leapt to Trip and he had an irrational jolt of fear that something had happened to T'Pol. But he would have called Jon's room directly, right?
"What's happened? Who is it?" He asked anxiously. God, not another accident, not here. It just couldn't be possible.
"He didn't say what, sir, but he said to tell you his name is Malcolm Reed."
The barrage of panicked thoughts stopped so suddenly Jonathan's mind whirled. For a short moment, he couldn't speak, couldn't think. There was no way he'd heard right. His mind was playing tricks on him; it must be.
"I'm s...sorry," he stuttered. "Did you say Malcolm Reed?"
"Yes, sir. Shall I tell him to wait in the lobby?"
Anger surged through Jonathan's heart, making him leap to his feet, sending his chair back so forcefully that it fell over.
"Is this some kind of joke?" He shouted, unable to stop his ire from coloring his tone. "No, don't answer that. If there really is some sick fuck down there going by that name, I want to see him!" It was hard to think clearly. "You tell him...goddamn it. Tell him to go to that fucking conference room and make sure there's a guard on him. Don't let him leave." He'd been damned if he let someone get away with making a mockery of him or of Malcolm.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I'll tell him. Thank you."
He slammed the receiver back on its base, feeling a measure of petty satisfaction in the violent act. Without thinking, he turned on his heel, rational considerations of the outcome of this situation not daring to intrude upon his fury. All he could think was that he wanted to see the face of the man who wanted to take advantage of his pain; he wanted to look him in the eye and make him hurt as much as Jonathan did.
The lift couldn't possibly be slower, he felt sure. The Alearan symbols showing over the door clicked off sluggishly as he descended from the fifteenth floor to the lobby. Finally, the doors opened and he shot off the lift towards the first conference room. A pair of purple uniformed guards stood stiffly before the door. Jonathan barely looked at them as they stepped aside. He flung open the door, nearly seeing red, his eyes filled with angry tears.
A man stood in the room, his back turned away from the door. Recognition flared in Jonathan's mind, but he instantly pushed it away, not wanting at that moment to be bothered with his old habit of seeing Malcolm everywhere he looked. He opened his mouth, intent on asking the man just who the hell he thought he was, but then the man turned towards him and Jonathan's blood ran cold.
It was Malcolm.
Or at least, it looked like Malcolm. Stark horror filled Jonathan's mind, permeating throughout his entire body. I'm losing my mind, he thought frantically. I've finally lost it. It was just too much. He felt fear begin to grow in his heart, like the fear he'd known when Malcolm first died and Jonathan had been afraid he just wouldn't be able to carry on.
The man sought his eyes and their gazes locked. Jonathan saw blue and grey and love and disappointment and Malcolm. It didn't matter that he knew Malcolm was dead, it didn't matter that it didn't make sense, wasn't logical for this man to be Malcolm; Jonathan couldn't look into those eyes, even after ten years and not know exactly who it was. He wanted to clap his hand over his mouth, but he couldn't quite manage it. His hands shook, his entire body trembled as his mind leapt from the reality he'd known for all those years to what must have happened, that somehow Malcolm had survived the explosion.
"Mal...?"
Something in Malcolm seemed to crumble, his stance weakened and he had to hold onto a nearby chair to steady himself. The intense pain on his face pierced Jonathan's heart. He wanted to go to him and pull Malcolm, his Malcolm into his arms, but then Malcolm looked back up at him and spoke for the first time.
"So, it's true." His voice was strangled and tinged with despair. "You did leave me."
NO! No, never, I'd never leave you, Malcolm, oh god, oh god, oh god, I couldn't leave you, Iloveyou...
He couldn't speak; he couldn't move or even breathe. Guilt, disbelief, pain, such pain and grief, all welled up inside Jonathan's heart and mind and soul and it overwhelmed and exploded out in waves of agony. Jonathan stumbled under the weight of his torment and tried to hold on something, but nothing was there and he found himself leaning heavily against the wall, only just barely standing.
"It's good to finally know," Malcolm said quietly. "I'll just go."
"No!" Malcolm's words spurred Jonathan into action. He wouldn't, couldn't lose Malcolm again. "No, please...I didn't know. Oh god, Malcolm, I didn't know. You were dead, you died...we saw evidence...Oh my god, baby, my...Malcolm..." Jonathan didn't remember when the tears started, but all of the sudden, he could hardly see Malcolm's face through the wetness gathering in his eyes and pouring down the side of his face. He grabbed Malcolm by the shoulders, not yet ready to revel in touching his lover again because his need to explain that he would never leave Malcolm behind consumed all his energy.
"You were dead," he said desperately, pulling one hand away from Malcolm just long enough to wipe the moisture out of his eyes.
Malcolm gazed at him in wonderment, his lips slightly parted. He lifted a hand to Jonathan's face and slowly traced the line of tears down his wet cheek. His touch left behind a track of fire on Jonathan's skin, lighting Jonathan's heart and making him realize for the first time how big a difference there was between content and happy.
"You thought...you thought I died," he whispered. He lifted his other hand and gently cupped both sides of Jonathan's face. "Oh Jon. Oh my love. I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."
And he gathered Jonathan into his arms, pressing their bodies closely together, fitting as naturally and easily against him as he always had. "I'm sorry."
At first Jonathan didn't understand why Malcolm was saying that because it certainly wasn't his fault they thought he'd died, but it didn't matter because Jonathan was back in the embrace he'd been craving for so very long. He closed his arms around Malcolm's back, squeezing him tightly and buried his head into Malcolm's neck, taking deep long breaths full of his scent and it was so damn good.
But then he realized that Malcolm was rubbing small tight circles into Jonathan's back, like he always had when trying to comfort his lover. And it struck him that Malcolm wasn't apologizing for anything. In a way, it was like he was offering condolences, was trying to tell Jonathan that he wished he hadn’t gone through any pain at all. Something unlocked in Jonathan’s chest, the powerful sense of loss and grief that he’d always kept carefully hidden away, hadn’t ever let himself really feel and he began to sob against Malcolm’s shoulder. It was the kind of crying that hurt deeply, great wracking sobs ripped from the darkest places of the soul, the kind of crying that Jonathan had never allowed himself because he’d been afraid that if he came apart, he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together again. But it was ok to cry like this now because Malcolm was here to help him find the pieces and so he poured out all the agony and sadness he’d been feeling for so long and all the while, Malcolm was there, holding him safe.
“Malcolm…I missed you so much,” Jonathan whispered a long while later when the tears slowed and Malcolm’s shirt was thoroughly soaked. He pulled his head from Malcolm’s shoulder and lifted a hand to his face slowly, almost afraid to touch him, afraid that this was just a wonderful dream. His fingers grazed along Malcolm’s cheek and his skin felt warm and alive.
“I love you. I never stopped loving you,” he said emphatically. There were tears on Malcolm’s face too and Jonathan brushed a finger across them, wanting to feel the moisture there because it was precious to him. Malcolm’s eyes fell shut and he murmured his name with a love Jonathan hadn’t heard in so long. He was never sure who started it, but suddenly they were kissing, their lips pressed harshly, almost desperately together, the kiss deepening immediately as if each were trying to prove to themselves that the other really existed. Jonathan felt sparks of pleasure and desire throughout his entire body and it was just like it always had been and never was with anyone else before or after Malcolm.
When the kiss ended a very long time later, Jonathan pulled Malcolm close him again, running his fingers through his dark brown hair and stroking a hand down his back, letting himself relearn Malcolm’s body slowly. He knew that eventually the real world would come back in, especially since it occurred to him finally that there was still a lot he didn’t understand about what had happened, but for that moment, he just wanted to hold his lover and allow them both to steady themselves.
“I love you,” Malcolm sighed against Jonathan’s neck, his lips brushing lightly over Jonathan’s skin and sending shivers down his spine. He felt warm, safe and grounded in a way he hadn’t been in so long.
“I love you.”
They held onto each other for so long that Jonathan lost track of time. Eventually, though, the questions began to filter in through his happiness. So much time had been lost for them and he didn’t understand why Malcolm would have thought Jonathan would leave him behind or why he hadn’t tried to contact him before.
“Malcolm?” Jonathan reluctantly pulled out of the embrace. “I don’t understand what happened. Where have you been all these years?”
Malcolm took his hand and walked over to one of the chairs. “Do you mind if we sit? I’m exhausted.”
“No, of course not.” Jonathan felt exhausted too, from tears, too much emotion and years of holding everything together all by himself. They sat in chairs facing one another, their hands clasped to maintain the connection Jonathan felt building again.
“I couldn’t sleep last night when I realized you were so close by,” Malcolm started. He took a deep breath before continuing and Jonathan could see this was very hard for him. “I didn’t know enough about you to find you until yesterday.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows drew together, confusion pumping through his veins. Didn’t know enough about him? But Malcolm knew more about him than anyone else ever had.
“Didn’t know enough about me? Malcolm, I...”
“I lost my memory, Jon,” Malcolm interrupted him quickly.
Shocked silence followed his statement.
All this time, Jonathan thought Malcolm was dead and Malcolm didn’t know his own past well enough to find his way home. It was a wicked twist of fate, a cruel irony to be separated because of chance and the weight of it felt crushing.
“Oh my god, Malcolm. I can’t believe…all this time and you were right here. I should have looked for you. I shouldn’t have accepted it. There was evidence. In the building, but I shouldn’t have...”
Malcolm shook his head, placing his palm on Jonathan’s cheek. “You couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I thought...I just didn’t know. Jon, until last night, I couldn’t even remember your sodding last name. All I ever had were dreams and half memories.” His hand stroked down Jonathan’s face and rested over his chest. “My heart never forgot you, Jon. And it tried to help me remember, but it was so hard. All I knew was I loved you.”
It was unimaginable, impossible to really know how that must have been for Malcolm, to know his lover was out there somewhere and knowing there was nothing you could do to find him. Jonathan hurt for him, deeply and keenly.
“God, Malcolm.” He squeezed the hand lying over his chest, using his touch to convey his feelings because he knew he wouldn’t be able to with words. Understanding softened Malcolm’s gaze and it wasn’t a surprise because they had used touch to communicate for longer than they had words.
“I started dreaming about you almost immediately, but it was several years before I recalled your name and even then, all I could hear was Jon.” His face flushed slightly at the memory. “The only reason I remembered it at all was...I heard myself saying it in a flash of memory. Calling it out really,” he finished with a touch of embarrassment. Jonathan couldn’t help, but smile at the sight. Malcolm always had loved saying Jonathan’s name when they were making love and Jonathan had always loved hearing it.
“How did you find out the rest?”
Malcolm took his hand away from Jonathan’s chest to reach into the side pocket of his drab brown shirt and pulled out a small electronic pad. “Someone gave me this article.” He handed it to Jonathan. It was an article about the UFP delegation, complete with a photo of Jonathan and Chancellor Matein.
“I knew as soon as I read your name that it was you and of course, when I saw the picture. I almost ran right over here right then.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jonathan asked curiously. If it had been him, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.
“I thought about it. But it was just such a shock. I needed some time to process it. I thought…I didn’t even know I was from another planet. It was like everything I thought I’d known was completely wrong.”
Jonathan started. “You thought you were Alearan?”
“Yes. I thought you and I were from another continent and that was why I could never find you. It was the only thing that made sense at the time.”
It did make sense, but it still blew Jonathan’s mind that Malcolm couldn’t even remember something so intrinsic to his nature as where he grew up.
“What have you been doing this whole time? What’s the first thing you remember? Because you were in that building, Malcolm. We found evidence. I saw you go in. And it was totally destroyed. I don’t see how you could have survived that.”
Malcolm’s eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “I don’t remember anything about a building. The first thing I remember is waking up in a forest, quite a distance from the capital. I don’t know about evidence, but I know I had bled a lot. I almost died anyway. I was in and out of consciousness for days and I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks. If it wasn’t for Senara, I’m sure I would have died.”
“Senara?”
A gentle smile appeared on Malcolm’s lips and his eyes filled with genuine affection. For just a second, Jonathan felt a stab of jealousy, but he tried very hard to push it away. Malcolm’s manner of greeting him implied that he hadn’t formed another romantic attachment and if he’d found someone to take care of him, that made Jonathan very happy.
“My daughter.”
“Daughter?”
“Not my real daughter, obviously. She found me on her way back from the capital and took me home to care for me. Her own parents had been dead for several years and she lived alone in her childhood home. I’ve been living with her ever since.”
Jonathan thought back to all those times he’d wished he could have seen Malcolm as a father and he already was one, living far away on a distant planet with an adopted family. Another pang of jealousy unexpectedly struck him, a feeling of being left out.
“I’d love to meet her,” he said. “I owe her a lot, it seems.”
Malcolm grinned. “She’ll be happy to hear that. She’s wanted to meet you for years.” He paused, lost in thought. “She saved me, Jon. And she always believed you were out there, unable to get to me.”
“Then yes, I owe her...everything really.”
Another sense of loss overcame him at the thought of all the time they’d missed and how Malcolm had been forced to depend on someone other than Jonathan for years. He pulled Malcolm to his chest, clinging tightly to him, lifting him off his chair without meaning to, but certainly not complaining when Malcolm's weight settled comfortably in his lap.
"I missed you," he murmured once more against Malcolm's neck. "So much. It hurt so much. Hurt to breathe, to walk, to even exist." In the back of his mind, Jonathan knew it probably wasn't fair of him to lay all this on Malcolm immediately, but it had been in his heart for so long, like a malignant mass, growing larger with each passing day despite Jonathan's increasing ability to ignore it.
"I know," Malcolm said and gently kissed Jonathan's forehead. "I felt it too. I couldn't stand not knowing." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I have so many questions."
Jonathan reluctantly pulled his head from Malcolm's solid warmth. "Me too. We'll find the answers, Malcolm." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "We have time now."
*************************************
Part Seven
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairings: Archer/Reed, T'Pol/Tucker
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Beta:
tookish_girl. Thanks!Warnings: Still not deathfic. Also, major cursing on Jon's part.
Summary: Ten years after an explosion on an alien planet, Jon and Malcolm deal with two very different realities.
Author's Notes: Omg, so here's this part finally. Again, I'm terribly sorry about the delay!
"Jonathan?"
T'Pol's voice only just barely filtered into Jonathan's consciousness. The PADDs laid out before him on the desk filled his mind almost to the brink, allowing little else, but work to enter his thoughts.
"Hmmmm?"
The most difficult part of the negotiation would be getting all the Alearan governors to agree upon every part of the Federation's policies, especially the governors from the largely rural areas and those from the lesser continents. Matein hadn't been quite as eager to discuss those regions as Jonathan thought he would be. And he had a feeling it was really beginning to bother Teilani...
"Jonathan?"
He started in surprise, not realizing that T'Pol had walked fully into the room and now stood near his right shoulder. The look on her face suggested that she had said his name more than just the two times he'd heard so far.
"I'm sorry, T'Pol. I'm a little distracted," he apologized, gesturing to the many work PADDS on the desk. She glanced at them, her quick eyes scanning, possibly to count them, Jonathan couldn't be sure, never really could be sure what she was thinking at any given moment. "What's going on?"
"Trip and I are going to have breakfast out of the hotel this morning. He saw a restaurant yesterday he wanted to experience. He said it was, 'right fancy'," T'Pol explained without a hint of humor, which made Jonathan laugh more than her actual words. "I came to ask you to join us."
"Where's Trip?"
"He is not yet finished getting ready. Our room has a large bathtub." She wrinkled her nose. "I can only hope he does not decide to stay in it forever."
"I'm sure he'll find his way out eventually," Jonathan commented. "For food if nothing else."
T'Pol didn't quite roll her eyes. "I would not be surprised if he simply asked me to bring him something."
"Yeah, me either." He stretched his long arms over his head, grunting a little at the effort and lamenting the aging process. "Actually, I already ate breakfast in here. I'd love to go, but I have to finish this work. It'd be good to know I won't have any distractions actually."
"Yes, I am sure it would." She turned to leave, but stopped before reaching the door. "Are you certain you'll be ok by yourself?"
"Hmmm?"
His mind had already turned back to his work and for a moment, he didn't quite understand her question. Being alone had never been a problem for Jonathan, but then he remembered where he was and what was most likely on T'Pol's mind.
"Oh yes. No, everything's fine. I've felt pretty good since yesterday." Going to the memorial really had helped bring him a measure of peace with being on this world. It didn't mean that he was going to buy a house here anytime soon, but he could keep his mind on his work well enough now.
"Of course," she said, though Jonathan could see that she didn't really understand why it was ok now and hadn't been before. "Your meetings are over at 1800 hours, correct?"
He nodded. "Oh, meant to tell you this before. Matein's invited us all for dinner at the Assembly Hall. 2000 hours."
"I'll inform Trip then. Have a good day, Jonathan." And she opened the door and left.
Jonathan spared a moment to contemplate how the years had changed everyone he knew in ways he would have never guessed before work claimed his thoughts once more. He had only worked for about five minutes when his door opened again and Trip stuck his head in.
"Hey, you sure you don't wanna come? You gotta see this place, Jon. It's built inside of a mountain or something," he enthused. Jonathan just stared at him.
"Get out of here."
"I'm just saying, you can see the rock layers in the walls."
"Seriously, get out of here."
Trip snickered. "Don't work too hard, Jonny." Jonathan heard T'Pol saying something from the hallway and though he couldn't hear the words, she sounded slightly impatient.
"Yeah, yeah."
He shut the door behind them. Jonathan decided to call down to the lobby to ask for no interruptions, just in case. Last evening, he'd had several unexpected calls from various politicians hoping for private meetings with the head of the UFP delegation and he didn't want to deal with it again while he was working. Having quickly made the call, he turned back to the PADDs and was able to work in peace for nearly twenty minutes.
But then his comm buzzed. The noise was such a surprise that Jonathan almost didn't hear it. When his mind finally identified the niggling sound, he grabbed it up without thinking and answered tersely.
"Yes?"
A feminine voice echoed from the other end.
"Admiral Archer? This is Yoiru from the lobby. I'm terribly sorry to bother you."
His eyes still rested on the PADD he'd been working on, the chief agricultural products of Aleara scrolling through his mind's eye.
"It's ok," he said distractedly. Those gurean fruits would probably be a popular export to the Federation. He'd had some at dinner last evening and they were simply amazing.
"...to see you. He says it's a matter of life and death."
He? Life and death? Jonathan's mind immediately leapt to Trip and he had an irrational jolt of fear that something had happened to T'Pol. But he would have called Jon's room directly, right?
"What's happened? Who is it?" He asked anxiously. God, not another accident, not here. It just couldn't be possible.
"He didn't say what, sir, but he said to tell you his name is Malcolm Reed."
The barrage of panicked thoughts stopped so suddenly Jonathan's mind whirled. For a short moment, he couldn't speak, couldn't think. There was no way he'd heard right. His mind was playing tricks on him; it must be.
"I'm s...sorry," he stuttered. "Did you say Malcolm Reed?"
"Yes, sir. Shall I tell him to wait in the lobby?"
Anger surged through Jonathan's heart, making him leap to his feet, sending his chair back so forcefully that it fell over.
"Is this some kind of joke?" He shouted, unable to stop his ire from coloring his tone. "No, don't answer that. If there really is some sick fuck down there going by that name, I want to see him!" It was hard to think clearly. "You tell him...goddamn it. Tell him to go to that fucking conference room and make sure there's a guard on him. Don't let him leave." He'd been damned if he let someone get away with making a mockery of him or of Malcolm.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I'll tell him. Thank you."
He slammed the receiver back on its base, feeling a measure of petty satisfaction in the violent act. Without thinking, he turned on his heel, rational considerations of the outcome of this situation not daring to intrude upon his fury. All he could think was that he wanted to see the face of the man who wanted to take advantage of his pain; he wanted to look him in the eye and make him hurt as much as Jonathan did.
The lift couldn't possibly be slower, he felt sure. The Alearan symbols showing over the door clicked off sluggishly as he descended from the fifteenth floor to the lobby. Finally, the doors opened and he shot off the lift towards the first conference room. A pair of purple uniformed guards stood stiffly before the door. Jonathan barely looked at them as they stepped aside. He flung open the door, nearly seeing red, his eyes filled with angry tears.
A man stood in the room, his back turned away from the door. Recognition flared in Jonathan's mind, but he instantly pushed it away, not wanting at that moment to be bothered with his old habit of seeing Malcolm everywhere he looked. He opened his mouth, intent on asking the man just who the hell he thought he was, but then the man turned towards him and Jonathan's blood ran cold.
It was Malcolm.
Or at least, it looked like Malcolm. Stark horror filled Jonathan's mind, permeating throughout his entire body. I'm losing my mind, he thought frantically. I've finally lost it. It was just too much. He felt fear begin to grow in his heart, like the fear he'd known when Malcolm first died and Jonathan had been afraid he just wouldn't be able to carry on.
The man sought his eyes and their gazes locked. Jonathan saw blue and grey and love and disappointment and Malcolm. It didn't matter that he knew Malcolm was dead, it didn't matter that it didn't make sense, wasn't logical for this man to be Malcolm; Jonathan couldn't look into those eyes, even after ten years and not know exactly who it was. He wanted to clap his hand over his mouth, but he couldn't quite manage it. His hands shook, his entire body trembled as his mind leapt from the reality he'd known for all those years to what must have happened, that somehow Malcolm had survived the explosion.
"Mal...?"
Something in Malcolm seemed to crumble, his stance weakened and he had to hold onto a nearby chair to steady himself. The intense pain on his face pierced Jonathan's heart. He wanted to go to him and pull Malcolm, his Malcolm into his arms, but then Malcolm looked back up at him and spoke for the first time.
"So, it's true." His voice was strangled and tinged with despair. "You did leave me."
NO! No, never, I'd never leave you, Malcolm, oh god, oh god, oh god, I couldn't leave you, Iloveyou...
He couldn't speak; he couldn't move or even breathe. Guilt, disbelief, pain, such pain and grief, all welled up inside Jonathan's heart and mind and soul and it overwhelmed and exploded out in waves of agony. Jonathan stumbled under the weight of his torment and tried to hold on something, but nothing was there and he found himself leaning heavily against the wall, only just barely standing.
"It's good to finally know," Malcolm said quietly. "I'll just go."
"No!" Malcolm's words spurred Jonathan into action. He wouldn't, couldn't lose Malcolm again. "No, please...I didn't know. Oh god, Malcolm, I didn't know. You were dead, you died...we saw evidence...Oh my god, baby, my...Malcolm..." Jonathan didn't remember when the tears started, but all of the sudden, he could hardly see Malcolm's face through the wetness gathering in his eyes and pouring down the side of his face. He grabbed Malcolm by the shoulders, not yet ready to revel in touching his lover again because his need to explain that he would never leave Malcolm behind consumed all his energy.
"You were dead," he said desperately, pulling one hand away from Malcolm just long enough to wipe the moisture out of his eyes.
Malcolm gazed at him in wonderment, his lips slightly parted. He lifted a hand to Jonathan's face and slowly traced the line of tears down his wet cheek. His touch left behind a track of fire on Jonathan's skin, lighting Jonathan's heart and making him realize for the first time how big a difference there was between content and happy.
"You thought...you thought I died," he whispered. He lifted his other hand and gently cupped both sides of Jonathan's face. "Oh Jon. Oh my love. I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."
And he gathered Jonathan into his arms, pressing their bodies closely together, fitting as naturally and easily against him as he always had. "I'm sorry."
At first Jonathan didn't understand why Malcolm was saying that because it certainly wasn't his fault they thought he'd died, but it didn't matter because Jonathan was back in the embrace he'd been craving for so very long. He closed his arms around Malcolm's back, squeezing him tightly and buried his head into Malcolm's neck, taking deep long breaths full of his scent and it was so damn good.
But then he realized that Malcolm was rubbing small tight circles into Jonathan's back, like he always had when trying to comfort his lover. And it struck him that Malcolm wasn't apologizing for anything. In a way, it was like he was offering condolences, was trying to tell Jonathan that he wished he hadn’t gone through any pain at all. Something unlocked in Jonathan’s chest, the powerful sense of loss and grief that he’d always kept carefully hidden away, hadn’t ever let himself really feel and he began to sob against Malcolm’s shoulder. It was the kind of crying that hurt deeply, great wracking sobs ripped from the darkest places of the soul, the kind of crying that Jonathan had never allowed himself because he’d been afraid that if he came apart, he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together again. But it was ok to cry like this now because Malcolm was here to help him find the pieces and so he poured out all the agony and sadness he’d been feeling for so long and all the while, Malcolm was there, holding him safe.
“Malcolm…I missed you so much,” Jonathan whispered a long while later when the tears slowed and Malcolm’s shirt was thoroughly soaked. He pulled his head from Malcolm’s shoulder and lifted a hand to his face slowly, almost afraid to touch him, afraid that this was just a wonderful dream. His fingers grazed along Malcolm’s cheek and his skin felt warm and alive.
“I love you. I never stopped loving you,” he said emphatically. There were tears on Malcolm’s face too and Jonathan brushed a finger across them, wanting to feel the moisture there because it was precious to him. Malcolm’s eyes fell shut and he murmured his name with a love Jonathan hadn’t heard in so long. He was never sure who started it, but suddenly they were kissing, their lips pressed harshly, almost desperately together, the kiss deepening immediately as if each were trying to prove to themselves that the other really existed. Jonathan felt sparks of pleasure and desire throughout his entire body and it was just like it always had been and never was with anyone else before or after Malcolm.
When the kiss ended a very long time later, Jonathan pulled Malcolm close him again, running his fingers through his dark brown hair and stroking a hand down his back, letting himself relearn Malcolm’s body slowly. He knew that eventually the real world would come back in, especially since it occurred to him finally that there was still a lot he didn’t understand about what had happened, but for that moment, he just wanted to hold his lover and allow them both to steady themselves.
“I love you,” Malcolm sighed against Jonathan’s neck, his lips brushing lightly over Jonathan’s skin and sending shivers down his spine. He felt warm, safe and grounded in a way he hadn’t been in so long.
“I love you.”
They held onto each other for so long that Jonathan lost track of time. Eventually, though, the questions began to filter in through his happiness. So much time had been lost for them and he didn’t understand why Malcolm would have thought Jonathan would leave him behind or why he hadn’t tried to contact him before.
“Malcolm?” Jonathan reluctantly pulled out of the embrace. “I don’t understand what happened. Where have you been all these years?”
Malcolm took his hand and walked over to one of the chairs. “Do you mind if we sit? I’m exhausted.”
“No, of course not.” Jonathan felt exhausted too, from tears, too much emotion and years of holding everything together all by himself. They sat in chairs facing one another, their hands clasped to maintain the connection Jonathan felt building again.
“I couldn’t sleep last night when I realized you were so close by,” Malcolm started. He took a deep breath before continuing and Jonathan could see this was very hard for him. “I didn’t know enough about you to find you until yesterday.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows drew together, confusion pumping through his veins. Didn’t know enough about him? But Malcolm knew more about him than anyone else ever had.
“Didn’t know enough about me? Malcolm, I...”
“I lost my memory, Jon,” Malcolm interrupted him quickly.
Shocked silence followed his statement.
All this time, Jonathan thought Malcolm was dead and Malcolm didn’t know his own past well enough to find his way home. It was a wicked twist of fate, a cruel irony to be separated because of chance and the weight of it felt crushing.
“Oh my god, Malcolm. I can’t believe…all this time and you were right here. I should have looked for you. I shouldn’t have accepted it. There was evidence. In the building, but I shouldn’t have...”
Malcolm shook his head, placing his palm on Jonathan’s cheek. “You couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I thought...I just didn’t know. Jon, until last night, I couldn’t even remember your sodding last name. All I ever had were dreams and half memories.” His hand stroked down Jonathan’s face and rested over his chest. “My heart never forgot you, Jon. And it tried to help me remember, but it was so hard. All I knew was I loved you.”
It was unimaginable, impossible to really know how that must have been for Malcolm, to know his lover was out there somewhere and knowing there was nothing you could do to find him. Jonathan hurt for him, deeply and keenly.
“God, Malcolm.” He squeezed the hand lying over his chest, using his touch to convey his feelings because he knew he wouldn’t be able to with words. Understanding softened Malcolm’s gaze and it wasn’t a surprise because they had used touch to communicate for longer than they had words.
“I started dreaming about you almost immediately, but it was several years before I recalled your name and even then, all I could hear was Jon.” His face flushed slightly at the memory. “The only reason I remembered it at all was...I heard myself saying it in a flash of memory. Calling it out really,” he finished with a touch of embarrassment. Jonathan couldn’t help, but smile at the sight. Malcolm always had loved saying Jonathan’s name when they were making love and Jonathan had always loved hearing it.
“How did you find out the rest?”
Malcolm took his hand away from Jonathan’s chest to reach into the side pocket of his drab brown shirt and pulled out a small electronic pad. “Someone gave me this article.” He handed it to Jonathan. It was an article about the UFP delegation, complete with a photo of Jonathan and Chancellor Matein.
“I knew as soon as I read your name that it was you and of course, when I saw the picture. I almost ran right over here right then.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jonathan asked curiously. If it had been him, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.
“I thought about it. But it was just such a shock. I needed some time to process it. I thought…I didn’t even know I was from another planet. It was like everything I thought I’d known was completely wrong.”
Jonathan started. “You thought you were Alearan?”
“Yes. I thought you and I were from another continent and that was why I could never find you. It was the only thing that made sense at the time.”
It did make sense, but it still blew Jonathan’s mind that Malcolm couldn’t even remember something so intrinsic to his nature as where he grew up.
“What have you been doing this whole time? What’s the first thing you remember? Because you were in that building, Malcolm. We found evidence. I saw you go in. And it was totally destroyed. I don’t see how you could have survived that.”
Malcolm’s eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “I don’t remember anything about a building. The first thing I remember is waking up in a forest, quite a distance from the capital. I don’t know about evidence, but I know I had bled a lot. I almost died anyway. I was in and out of consciousness for days and I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks. If it wasn’t for Senara, I’m sure I would have died.”
“Senara?”
A gentle smile appeared on Malcolm’s lips and his eyes filled with genuine affection. For just a second, Jonathan felt a stab of jealousy, but he tried very hard to push it away. Malcolm’s manner of greeting him implied that he hadn’t formed another romantic attachment and if he’d found someone to take care of him, that made Jonathan very happy.
“My daughter.”
“Daughter?”
“Not my real daughter, obviously. She found me on her way back from the capital and took me home to care for me. Her own parents had been dead for several years and she lived alone in her childhood home. I’ve been living with her ever since.”
Jonathan thought back to all those times he’d wished he could have seen Malcolm as a father and he already was one, living far away on a distant planet with an adopted family. Another pang of jealousy unexpectedly struck him, a feeling of being left out.
“I’d love to meet her,” he said. “I owe her a lot, it seems.”
Malcolm grinned. “She’ll be happy to hear that. She’s wanted to meet you for years.” He paused, lost in thought. “She saved me, Jon. And she always believed you were out there, unable to get to me.”
“Then yes, I owe her...everything really.”
Another sense of loss overcame him at the thought of all the time they’d missed and how Malcolm had been forced to depend on someone other than Jonathan for years. He pulled Malcolm to his chest, clinging tightly to him, lifting him off his chair without meaning to, but certainly not complaining when Malcolm's weight settled comfortably in his lap.
"I missed you," he murmured once more against Malcolm's neck. "So much. It hurt so much. Hurt to breathe, to walk, to even exist." In the back of his mind, Jonathan knew it probably wasn't fair of him to lay all this on Malcolm immediately, but it had been in his heart for so long, like a malignant mass, growing larger with each passing day despite Jonathan's increasing ability to ignore it.
"I know," Malcolm said and gently kissed Jonathan's forehead. "I felt it too. I couldn't stand not knowing." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I have so many questions."
Jonathan reluctantly pulled his head from Malcolm's solid warmth. "Me too. We'll find the answers, Malcolm." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "We have time now."
*************************************
Part Seven
