cloudy_fic

Title: Circle's End, Part Fourteen
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.
Summary: Ten years after an explosion on an alien planet, Jon and Malcolm deal with two very different realities.
Author's Notes: None really.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The low constant beeping sound beat softly against Jonathan's ears, pulling him very much against his will back to consciousness. He didn't want to leave his pleasant dream behind, a dream of holding Malcolm again, touching his smooth skin and kissing his soft lips. Waking up was bad, Jonathan knew. Waking up brought awful realization and bitter disappointment.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He groaned and opened his painfully stiff eyelids. Bright white light pierced his eyes, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the sick feeling of loss. It had felt so real. It always felt so damned real.

"Hey, you're awake."

Snapping his head to the side hurt like hell, but Jonathan did it anyway. Malcolm sat up in the chair beside Jonathan's bed, rubbing his reddened eyes, looking as if he'd been asleep recently himself. The events of the last few days came rushing back into Jonathan's mind, crashing in, flooding his heart with so many emotions, it took his breath away.

"You're here," he croaked, staring. His eyebrows crinkling with concern, Malcolm stood and moved to sit on the edge of Jonathan's bed, taking his hand.

"Where else would I be, love?" he murmured. Jonathan clenched his eyes shut and concentrated on the warmth on his hand, the feel of his bed dipping under Malcolm's solid weight.

"I've never...before, when I woke up, you weren't here." Too much emotion to speak louder than a whisper. Strong fingers brushed across his cheek, making Jonathan re-open his eyes. Malcolm leaned over him, near and very much alive. Jonathan grasped the hand on his face and pressed it close, gratitude, relief and a shadow of long experienced hurt flowing through him.

"I've been here this whole time, Jon," Malcolm assured him gently. "I wouldn't leave you."

Jonathan shook his head. "I mean...before. Before you found me."

Comprehension flickered in Malcolm's eyes. "Oh my love." Scooting up the bed to get closer, Malcolm bent down on his elbow and kissed Jonathan tenderly. "I guess it's going to take awhile before we can break old habits. But I'm here now, Jon." His expression became serious. "I'm here."

Jonathan nodded and closed his eyes again. "I love you."

"I love you too," Malcolm replied quietly before giving Jonathan another kiss.

Silence overtook them both for a brief moment and Jonathan used the time to calm his heart, taking deep cleansing breaths as Malcolm stroked the hair back from his forehead over and over. He was just becoming comfortable again when an image flashed across his mind of Teilani, aiming a gun at Malcolm's chest, his face eerily devoid of emotion.

"Malcolm?" Jonathan's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. "Matein, Teilani...?"

"Calm down, love," Malcolm admonished him, laying his palms on Jonathan's chest to push him back down again. "Everything's being taken care of."

Jonathan allowed himself to be lowered back against the pillow, but the urgency didn't disappear from his continued questions. "What happened? Where are they?"

"Teilani's dead," Malcolm said abruptly, dark anger in his eyes. "I killed him."

"Mal..." But there weren't any words. Jonathan vaguely remembered hearing more gunshots after that first one, but he hadn't been aware enough of his surroundings to know what was happening. The thought that he'd caused Malcolm to kill again made him feel ill, yet he couldn't apologize for it. He knew that, given the chance, he'd choose to jump in the way of that bullet again and again. "I..."

"It had to be done, Jon." There was no regret in his tone, unlike when they'd discussed Malcolm killing the unknown Alearan man. "He was determined to keep shooting until someone died."

He didn't say as much, but Jonathan suspected that, while Malcolm might have wished there was another way of ending the threat, there was some degree of satisfaction at being the one to kill the man who'd nearly killed them both. Remembering how he'd felt when he'd believed that Matein was hunting down members of the Trueain Patriots, Jonathan couldn't find fault in that.

"What about Matein?" he asked, wanting to move away from the subject altogether.

"Matein's in custody," Malcolm said, his lip curling in disgust. "Starfleet custody. That female governor...Belk? Bielk?"

"Bielk," Jonathan murmured.

"Yes, her." As he spoke, Malcolm fluffed Jonathan's pillows and fussed over his blanket. "With Teilani and Matein out of the picture, she's now in power, but she turned the investigation over to Starfleet. No one knows who to trust anymore, so she decided to let a relatively impartial third party handle it. Everyone's being questioned over and over." Jonathan was nearly cocooned inside his blanket before Malcolm was satisfied enough to calm his hands and look back at him. "It's a bloody mess down there."

"Down there?" For the first time since waking up, Jonathan looked, really looked at his surroundings. Hospital bed, monitors, curtains. He spotted the Reliant's insignia along the bottom of his blanket and smiled broadly. "Hey, you're in space again."

Malcolm chuckled. "Yes and let me tell you, I was not pleased with how they got us up here." He shuddered, though the smile didn't drop from his lips. "I didn't react well to seeing you disappear in a pool of blue lights."

"You never were fond of the transporter," Jonathan recalled, grinning.

"Well, I'm still not, but at least it got you to the doctor quickly."

It wasn't until Malcolm mentioned the doctor that Jonathan thought to wonder about his own health. The only thing that really mattered to him was that Malcolm was alive and that Jonathan was well enough to know about it.

Still, he was curious about how long he'd be stuck in Sickbay.

"What did the doctor say? How long was I out?"

"I'm not sure exactly how long," he replied, resting his hand on Jonathan's chest. "You...passed out before Dr. Cornell transported down. She said you had lost a lot of blood..." His voice seemed to die on the word 'blood' and he turned away, but not before Jonathan caught the deeply troubled look in his eyes. Unease stabbed at Jonathan's heart.

"Malcolm?"

When he finally began to speak, Jonathan could barely make out the broken words. "When she got there...she said you were going to make it. But I didn't...before that, we didn't..." His eyes found Jonathan's again, striking him breathless with the fear still swirling in their blue depths. "How did you live with this for ten years?"

Understanding blanketed Jonathan, cruel and terrible. Malcolm had thought he was going to die, was still feeling the after effects of being certain that he was going to lose Jonathan so quickly after finding him. Jonathan didn't think he could really describe how it felt losing Malcolm.

"Hey." Very carefully, Jonathan eased up in the bed, leaning on Malcolm's arms to help himself into a sitting position. "Don't think about it, ok? I don't want you to know. I'm ok. I'm here."

To his surprise, Malcolm flipped off the bed and spun towards him angrily. "Don't want me to know? I caused you pain, Jon. For years. I know how it feels. I thought you were going to die. I thought for sure you were going to die and it was the worst five minutes of my entire life!" Tears thickened his voice. "How am I supposed to live with knowing you felt that way for ten fucking years?"

Silence followed his outburst, Jonathan staring at him open-mouthed. It had never once occurred to him that Malcolm would feel guilty for the grief Jonathan had experienced. "Malcolm...that is not your fault."

Malcolm snorted, turning his head away violently.

"Don't do that," Jonathan said desperately. "Hey, look at me. Malcolm."
For a moment, he honestly thought Malcolm wasn't going to listen, but he finally looked back at him, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"I love you, Malcolm. You're my lover, my partner," Jonathan said. "I've never loved anyone like I love you. And it's wonderful, the best thing that ever happened to me."

Malcolm's pose began to relax somewhat, encouraging Jonathan into continuing. "There's no way it's not going to hurt like hell if something happened to you and I wouldn't change that if I could because that's how love works. I was lucky enough to find someone who meant more to me than I ever imagined anyone could and if that means I have to live with hurt that goes along with that, I'm willing to accept that. I was then too. You can't change that." A smile tugged hesitantly at the corner of his mouth. "You can't do anything to stop me from loving you. Trust me, I know. You tried and it just made me love you all the more."

"It's just..." Malcolm's shoulders sagged and he wiped a hand across his face. "It hurt so much," he whispered.

"I know," Jonathan murmured, holding out his hand. Any remaining tension drained out of Malcolm's body. In one fluid motion, he moved from his standing position straight into Jonathan's arms, burying his face in his lover's neck. "I know," he repeated quietly, holding Malcolm close as he trembled in his arms. Being there obviously comforted Malcolm because his shaking quickly subsided and that pleased Jonathan a great deal. It felt nice to be needed like that again.

"I can't believe you did that, Jon," he muttered against Jonathan's neck. "You could've been killed."

"His aim was dead center. If I hadn't, you would have been killed," Jonathan said, stroking his hair and neck comfortingly. "I've never been good at standing idly by while you were in danger." And despite having the opportunity to take a bullet meant for Malcolm, Jonathan still couldn't stand the thought that he'd been useless to him during his previous ordeal, that he'd accepted Malcolm's death, no matter how clear cut the evidence had been. Suddenly, the need to apologize overwhelmed Jon.

"I'm so sorry, Malcolm," he whispered against Malcolm's hair. "I'm so sorry I left you."

"Jon." Jonathan lifted his head and saw a serious look on Malcolm's face. "I've been talking with Trip. He told me about those days after the explosion. About how you stayed much longer than necessary. About how you had T'Pol scan the planet over and over despite the fact that Alearan and human biosigns are indistinguishable, just in case. He told me how he and T'Pol had to convince you it was time to leave, even though it hurt them to give up hope, to force you to give up hope." The memory of that day forced itself into Jonathan's mind and he saw T'Pol's unhidden sadness, heard Trip's voice echoing in his mind. He's gone, Jon.

"I just couldn't believe it, Malcolm." Jonathan reached out slowly and touched Malcolm's cheek, swallowing back an incredible amount of anger in order to continue speaking. "I shouldn't have believed it."

"They fooled everyone, Jon," Malcolm said softly, covering Jonathan's hand with his own. "Trip said that he and T'Pol never had any hope that I lived. He said you were the only one that ever tried to find a different answer. They were just too good at covering it up, Jon." He smiled. "There's no need to apologize."

"Yes, I do need to," Jonathan protested. It comforted him to know that Malcolm didn't blame him, but it couldn't help completely assuage his guilt. If he'd just been a little more diligent or cleverer, the last ten years would have been so different. "I just wish..."

A finger over his mouth halted his words. "I forgive you."

"Malcolm..." Jonathan pulled him back into a firm embrace, unable to put into words how much that statement touched him. Malcolm didn't reply, just held Jonathan tighter as he became steadier with each passing moment.

"I'm sorry too, Jon," Malcolm sighed some time later. He lifted his head from Jonathan's neck, eyes clear and dark. "I shouldn't have yelled earlier."

"Sure, you should have," Jonathan disagreed, enjoying the little half-smile that appeared at the corner of Malcolm's mouth at his words. "If you can't yell at me, who can you yell at? I'd rather you yell a hundred times over not hearing anything at all," he said, meaning to refer to Malcolm clamming up, but realizing it could apply to something else entirely. "I've got you back now; I want everything."

Malcolm's half-smile quivered and given the way he swept his gaze quickly down his lover's form, Jonathan guessed that came out more seductively than he had intended. Not that he was upset about it. Not if it got Malcolm to look at him that way.

"I've been thinking the same thing," Malcolm breathed. "So, if you do me a favor and get well quickly, I'd appreciate it."

Jonathan laughed even as he felt heated arousal drop through his stomach. "I'll try my best. Did the doctor say how long I've got to stay in here?"

"She was vague. A few days was the best I could get out of her. The bullet didn't nick any major organs or do any permanent damage, but I think she wants to watch you a bit because of the blood loss," he answered. "Truthfully, I could barely get her to talk about you after it became apparent you were going to be alright. She just wanted to examine me," he said, looking slightly ill.

"I don't blame her," Jonathan teased. "Though, I hope she didn't look too closely."
"She was more interested in my brain than my bum," he retorted. "Unlike some people."

"I'm interested in both; that's why it's love." Before Malcolm could come up with an appropriate quip, Jonathan leaned over and kissed him openly, deeply. "What did she say about your brain?" he asked breathlessly after breaking off the kiss.

It took Malcolm a moment to focus, but he managed it. "She said something about my skull bones being weak, leftover damage or some such."

"What does that mean?" Jonathan asked worriedly, straightening up some.

"It means she wants to do some kind of medical procedure on me, which she claims is perfectly safe. But I told her I'd lived like this way for this long, I could wait a few more days until after you were completely healed."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to risk anything-"

"Really, it's fine, Jon," Malcolm interrupted him gently. "My brains aren't in danger of leaking out the back of my skull, if that's what you're worried about."

"Well, no, but thanks for the mental image," he shuddered.

"It's just another, more descriptive way of saying the problem is not life-threatening. The procedure will just clear up some pain I could live without," Malcolm assured him. A large part of Jonathan didn't like the thought of Malcolm living with pain any longer than he had to, but he did trust Dr. Cornell's medical opinions and he didn't want to be accused of mother-henning. Not that he wouldn't do it; just that he would be more subtle about it.

"But you are going to have it done, right?"

Malcolm didn't quite roll his eyes and he kept smiling, so Jonathan felt he'd been successful. "Yes, I am."

"Good." He took Malcolm's hand, brushing his thumb over the palm and asked the question he'd been wanting answered since finding Malcolm again. "What about your memory?"

"Well, that's a little more complicated. She said that since I'd been getting memory flashes around familiar people and places that my best chance to recover more would be to continue being around them. Her recommendation was to...return to Earth," he finished with some hesitation.

"And what do you think of that?" Jonathan asked just as hesitantly. Now that the time had come to really discuss the future, Jonathan found that he was more nervous about it than he'd realized. He'd been perfectly serious when he'd told Senara that he'd rather move to Aleara than lose Malcolm. But he knew Malcolm needed this, needed to go back home and discover who he was, as well as reconnect with his friends and family.

"I think it's a sound idea," he said, not quite meeting Jonathan's eye. There was such a lengthy pause after that statement that Jonathan began to ask him to elaborate, but a deep sigh from Malcolm cut him off. "I want to go."

Jonathan frowned. "Are you sure? You don't sound happy about it."

"It's not that," he answered, finally meeting Jonathan's eyes. "It's more...I want to go very badly and I'm not sure it's a good idea. I don't know that I can just up and leave everything here like that."

Nodding his head in agreement, Jonathan squeezed Malcolm's hand and tried to let his understanding show on his face. "I don't think you have to, Malcolm. We don't have to make a permanent decision about the future right this second. Just come back for a few months, work on getting some memories back and we'll go from there. If you want to move back here, we'll move back." It wasn't until he saw Malcolm's eyes widen that Jonathan remembered he hadn't told Malcolm about his intentions. "I'm not losing you again, Malcolm. I don't care if we have to live on Vulcan. If Aleara really is your home, then I'll come here to live." He brushed a lock of Malcolm's hair away with his free hand. "I'll be at home wherever you are."

"Jon..." Malcolm swallowed hard. "You don't want to live in a village-"

"Doesn't matter," Jonathan insisted. "I'll get the Federation to appoint me ambassador to Aleara and get a transport into the city everyday if it come to that. Or maybe I'll just quit Starfleet and let you teach me how to grow..." He cocked his head. "What do you grow?"

"Grain," he muttered, growing red. The sight stopped Jonathan in his tracks, his mental image of Malcolm, sweaty and mussed from the day's work fading quickly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Except that our lives are a thousand miles apart now and I don't know how we're going to get them back together." The words spilled out rapidly, his face growing redder. Jonathan didn't have the time to form an answer before Malcolm's head fell onto his shoulder. "I hate farming," he said into Jonathan's shirt.

He wrapped his arms around Malcolm, pulling him close. "Then Malcolm, honey, you don't have to do it anymore," he said, glad Malcolm couldn't see his smile. It was just like him to put others before himself. "Senara's moving in with Talin soon enough. You could just sell the land or donate to the village or something and move to the city and get a job you do like. You'd still be close to her and you wouldn't be miserable." A gentle hand under Malcolm's chin encouraged him to look up. "And if you're worried about leaving her for a few months, bring her along. And Talin. Couldn't you find someone to take care of the land and things while you're away?"

The hesitant expression on his face covered one of excitement. Jonathan could see that Malcolm was letting himself consider it, but didn't want to agree before thinking it over very carefully. "I suppose I could. Harvest is over. It would just be keeping up with the soil." Jonathan nodded, though he wasn't completely sure he understood Malcolm's meaning. "And Talin works with his father. I'm sure Jahni could keep things running by himself for a few months."

"I think it'd be worth it, Mal. You need to do this, regardless of where we end up. And not just for yourself, though that's what's topmost in my mind." They hadn't spoken about this yet and Jonathan couldn't help, but honestly wonder how Malcolm's parents would handle seeing him again. "Your family will want to see you."

"Family...parents?" Malcolm asked quietly. Jonathan's heart constricted in his chest. It was such a complicated situation, one that would surely match any emotional upheaval they'd experienced in the last day. He knew there'd been real and deep sorrow for his parents when they heard the news, but the state of their relationship had been so terrible at the time of Malcolm's supposed death, Jonathan honestly didn't know what to expect. The thought that Madeline, at least, would receive Malcolm back home with unconditional happiness served to comfort him.

"And a younger sister, Madeline."

Malcolm's lips turned up at one corner of his mouth as he looked a little to Jonathan's left, clearly seeing something Jonathan couldn't. "I have an image in my head of a rather small blond child angrily shaking a doll that's had its hair cut in my face." His eyes flicked to Jonathan's. "Madeline?"

"I hope so, or else you've been tormenting someone else's sister," Jonathan said with a laugh. "She always said you were, and I quote, 'a horrid little wanker' growing up."

Malcolm snorted. "The doll's hair wanted cutting," he defended. "At least, that's the feeling I specifically remember." Quiet joy lit Malcolm's face and Jonathan wasn't sure if it was from the memory or just the ability to remember it at all. Probably both. "Do you still talk to her?"

"Yes, all the time," Jonathan confirmed. "I actually never met her until after it happened." They spoke about before and after so much, Jonathan had taken to calling the explosion 'it', not wanting to keep stumbling over the words 'after you died.' It wasn't going to get any easier talking about that, Jonathan knew. "But we had you in common, so it didn't matter. She still lives in England, where you grew up, so I don't see her as much as I'd like to, but we send messages and visit when we can."

An expansive sigh shuddered Malcolm's body. "All of which is to say that you're completely right. There's no way I can just stay here." To Jonathan's surprise, Malcolm sprang from the bed eagerly. "Senara's been wanting to see you. Would it be alright to bring her and Talin in?"

"Sure." While Malcolm went out of Sickbay to collect his daughter, Jonathan rearranged himself on the bed, making himself a little more presentable. He reached up to his hair and winced. Surgery, laying in bed for hours and Malcolm's petting had left his hair a wild tangled mess. But he couldn't do anything about that and Senara, it seemed when she entered Sickbay, did not care a bit.

"Master Archer!" In a flash, she was beside his bed, taking his hand in hers, a dark line of worry creasing her forehead. "I've been so worried for you!" Talin came up beside her, his own expression solemnly concerned. "Everyone's been so nice and they took us all around your ship to show it off, but I couldn't concentrate. I just kept praying to the holy leaders over and over that you'd be well again," she said sincerely.

"They must have listened," Jonathan said with a smile. "Besides a little soreness, I feel pretty good." Even better now that he could enjoy Senara's loving presence. He still wasn't sure what she was to him, whether their relationship would become like that of hers and Malcolm's or would stay in the realm of close friends, but either way, there was something about her that made him feel pleasant inside just by seeing her smile and warm brown eyes.

"Good," Senara declared, releasing his hand to fiddle with his blanket. Jonathan bit back a smile at the action, so similar to Malcolm's. "I would never thought after...well, I'm just glad there was such excellent medicines available," she said distractedly. It couldn't have been easy for her, seeing Jonathan hurt and bleeding like that just as Malcolm had been all those years ago. Jonathan grabbed her restless hands and held them between both of his.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I'm positive I wouldn't have healed so well if you hadn't been thinking of me." It didn't matter that Jonathan didn't know of or believe in the holy leaders; he believed that love was exceptionally powerful.

She smiled softly, blushing, as she gazed at their joined hands. "The leaders wouldn't allow you to die, Jon," she murmured. Her eyes met his once more. "There's been too much sorrow in your life. It's your time to be happy now."

Jonathan didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded jerkily, squeezed her hands once more and released them. Malcolm, who'd been watching the exchange from several feet away, stepped up and sat beside Jonathan on the bed. "I wanted to talk to you about that, elaen." He leaned forward a bit, speaking quietly, but with confidence. "Dr. Cornell told me that the best way to retrieve any memories I might be capable of retrieving was to return to familiar grounds, speak with people from my past. I have to go to Earth, at least for a little while."

Resignation accompanied the nod she gave him then. "I know you must, Father," she said, just as quietly. Jonathan noticed Talin placing his hand on Senara's back, offering her support. "I understand."

"I was rather hoping you'd join me," Malcolm said quickly. He ducked his head to peer up at her lowered face. "You and Talin. Come back with me for a few months."

She stared at him openmouthed. "Go to...Earth?"

"Yes," Malcolm said, grinning. "We can see it for the first time together. Sort of."

"But...what about our house? The land?" Her hesitation mirrored Malcolm's perfectly, hiding a definite spark of interest. He expected Malcolm to explain his plans again, but to his surprise, Talin jumped into the conversation.

"My parents and uncles could handle your lands, Senara." His deep bass voice held its own measure of interest. "I must admit, ever since I read about your world and its Starfleet, neither has left my mind for long. I would be most eager to journey to Earth, Master Reed." There could be no doubting the sincerity and genuine excitement in Talin's tone. Jonathan smiled at him, thinking to himself that perhaps he and the blacksmith had more in common than he'd realized.

Senara turned to him and they exchanged an entire conversation without speaking, just as Jonathan had seen so very many lovers do. He wondered idly how it looked when he and Malcolm did the same while he waited. It was not a long wait.

"Oh Father!," she suddenly squeaked, throwing her arms around his neck. "I...oh Father!"

The merry laugh that tumbled from Malcolm warmed Jonathan's heart immensely. "I take that as a yes," he said through his laughter, returning her embrace with enthusiasm.

"Of course, yes." When she pulled away to look at his face, Jonathan saw that her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. "It's just as Jon said," she said with some difficulty. Confusion crossed Malcolm's face, but then Senara hugged him again and he relaxed into the embrace, apparently deciding to leave it be for the moment. Jonathan made a mental note to tell Malcolm her meaning later.

After the issue had been settled, the four of them spent some time chatting easily, avoiding any serious topics, just spending time building a rapport they could all share. Jonathan enjoyed being with them, but despite his earlier assurance to Senara that he felt fine, it wasn't long before he felt fatigue washing over him. Talin was the first to notice Jonathan's head dropping towards Malcolm's shoulder. With a knowing smile, he took Senara's hand.

"We should go for now, 'Nara," he said quietly. "Perhaps now that you've seen Master Archer, you can finally enjoy seeing the stars."

"Oh." Her eyes fell on Jonathan and she nodded, understanding. "Alright." She laid a hand on Jonathan's arm and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "We'll come back again later, Jon," she promised before giving her father a kiss as well. "I hope you are feeling even better then."

"Thanks." Jonathan and Malcolm both received a kiss from Talin and then Malcolm walked them out. While he was gone, Jonathan laid back against the pillows, his body sagging with relief at being in a resting position once more. His eyes were closed when Malcolm returned and so he jumped a little when he felt a kiss being brushed along his forehead.

"I see that you're still good at sneaking up on people," he croaked. Malcolm grinned.

"Just go to sleep, Jon," he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. A hand stroking through Jonathan's hair brought the fatigue spilling back, drawing Jonathan towards sleep. "You need to rest." Jonathan felt him lean down on one elbow, his hand caressing still as he spoke against Jonathan's ear. "Because you're going to need your strength once I get you out of here." With his voice dark, his breath whispering along Jonathan's skin, there was no mistaking his meaning. Jonathan's body tingled at the thought, but there wasn't much he could do about just then except hope the feeling translated into his dreams.

"Love you," he sighed, settling in, grabbing Malcolm's free hand and holding it against his chest.

"I love you too, Captain," he murmured back and Jonathan had just enough time to wonder if Malcolm really had remembered his old habit of calling Jonathan by that rank in bed before he fell asleep.

Part Fifteen