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Chapter Text

Hoshi’s attention on her book wavered, the letters suddenly seeming to shimmer and blur, and she looked up with a start, her skin crawling, as though she was being watched. Nothing was there, of course, but that’s what it had seemed like before - with Tarquin - and then she hadn’t even realised that her mind was being invaded, picked through, memories chosen to be used against her. 

She shuddered, then tried to shake off her unease and return to her reading. But the story no longer engaged her attention, and the prickling on the back of her neck grew stronger. She tossed the book to the bed and got to her feet, looking around. She only had her bedlight on, so the room was fairly dark, but she could pick out shapes here and there. Nothing seemed amiss. 

Still, she was on edge, and growing more so by the minute. She wouldn’t be able to sleep here if this continued, and that was a frightening - and annoying - possibility. How could she do her job properly if she startled at every little shadow, even where none existed, like some high-strung horse?

She turned up the lights to 50 percent, banishing more of the shadows, and felt a little better. Perhaps some warm milk or chamomile tea would help, she decided. Maybe if she calmed down a bit, she’d be able to sleep, and be able to function properly during her shift in the morning. As it was, the constant lack of sleep, or disturbed sleep, of the past few weeks was taking its toll. She couldn’t concentrate as well as usual, and she was hard-pressed to not yawn right there on the bridge. She could only imagine what the captain would say, let alone Subcommander T’Pol, if she actually dared to yawn while on shift. 

Sighing, Hoshi dragged on a shirt over her t-shirt and pyjama pants, leaving it unbuttoned, and tugged on a pair of soft slippers. She slipped her book PADD into a pocket; perhaps she could pick up the story while she drank her warm beverage of choice. 

She headed out into the dim, quiet corridor; it was Gamma shift, and most denizens of the ship were fast asleep, preparing for Alpha shift - as she should have been. Padding along on silent feet, Hoshi wrapped her arms around herself. She really had felt like something - or some one - was watching her in her quarters, and the thought made her uneasy. 

It had been a year since the incident with Tarquin, and she still hadn’t shaken off the disquiet of having had someone rummaging around in her memories, her thoughts, without even an inkling that he was doing so. Coupled with the horror of having been infected with parasites by the Xindi some time later, the sense of violation was profound. 

For all Tarquin’s vaunted concern about her wellbeing, her sense of isolation, what he considered her loneliness, he hadn’t even spent a moment on imagining what she might have felt about his unwanted, unwelcome intrusion into the sanctity of her thoughts. Rather, he’d used what he’d found against her, trying to isolate her further from her crew, her friends; trying to make her dependent on him, with his - lying, manipulating, conniving! - attempts at using her memories to sway her to consider him her anchor. 

Hoshi frowned as anger washed through her at his blatant manipulation and disregard for her consent, not realising that a scowl had made its way onto her face and she was now stomping her way toward the mess hall. 

“Glad I’m not the target of those thoughts,” said a quiet voice from in front of her. Startled, Hoshi jerked to a halt, her eyes lifting to the man standing a few feet away, on the opposite side of the mess hall doors. Lieutenant Reed, also in a t-shirt and wearing sweatpants. A very tight t-shirt, she realised, which set off a particularly nice set of abs. A pity the sweatpants weren’t as tight, she considered, then mentally scolded herself for such thoughts. 

“My eyes are up here,” the lieutenant’s voice continued, and Hoshi jerked her eyes back up to his amused gaze, blushing. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant! I’m not all here at the moment,” she said hastily. Her hands twisted together in front of her, fingers clenching and unclenching, and he dropped his eyes to them, then looked back at her face. 

“Are you alright, Hoshi?” he inquired, amusement gone and concern threading through his crisp English accent. 

“I’m okay—I just can’t sleep properly, and—and—” Hoshi floundered to a stop, aware that his keen eyes were catching all her signs of discomfort and unease. He wasn’t the tactical officer for nothing. She sighed. “Honestly, sir, no, I’m not alright. I came to the mess to see if I could get something to help me sleep—and to get away from my quarters.” 

She stopped, miserable, and simply wanting comfort. But she couldn’t exactly hurl herself at a senior officer and demand that he keep her safe, much as she wanted to, and as much as she thought he could. Lieutenant Reed gave off the aura of a protector, and that’s what her tired brain wanted right now.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he inquired, and when Hoshi ventured a glance up at him, she saw nothing but concern and friendship in his gaze. She opened her mouth to refuse, not wanting to be a burden; then stopped. He wasn’t one to make idle offers, and she could use a listening ear. 

She nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind, sir, it would be nice to have someone to talk to,” she said honestly. 

He smiled. “I think we can dispense with the formalities at this hour, Hoshi,” he teased gently. “Let’s get a warm drink, since I imagine that’s why we’ve both come to the mess.” He pressed the entrance button and gestured for her to precede him through the mess hall doors.

They got their drinks in companionable silence, both choosing hot cocoa for the luxury and the comfort. As she turned to head for one of the tables, he forestalled her. 

“Shall we go to the observation deck?” he asked. “It’s a little cosier and maybe it’ll help calm your nerves a bit further.”

She assented, and led the way to the small room near the mess hall. Plopping down on the couch and setting her mug on the small table beside it, Hoshi stretched out her legs and dropped her head against the back of the couch, blowing out a heavy sigh. Lieutenant Reed took the other seat, his posture as upright as ever, and turned to face her. 

His eyes searched her face over the rim of his mug and he blew on the hot liquid inside before taking a sip of the contents. He didn’t push her to talk, simply watched her as he drank, until finally she sat up and curled herself into a corner of the couch. 

Picking up her mug, Hoshi drank some of the cocoa, staring through the observation port but not seeing the vista of space outside. 

“It’s absurd … but not that funny,” she said slowly. “I haven’t been sleeping very well, if at all, lately. I’m tired all the time, I can’t concentrate, and I know it’s affecting my performance. I’ve been to Phlox,” she said, with a quick glance at the tactical officer. He said nothing, simply waited for her to continue, his face inscrutable. She sighed. 

“He prescribed sleeping aids, but … I don’t want to take them. It’s silly, I know, but I—I feel … vulnerable. Exposed. As though while I’m sleeping, anyone could come in and poke around.” She hesitated. “In my mind, I mean. Like he did before.” Not wanting to say more at that moment, she drank more cocoa, then set her mug down on the side table once more. Her hands found each other again and began twisting restlessly in her lap.

Lieutenant Reed still didn’t say anything, but his posture had stiffened, and he carefully put his mug on the floor beside the couch. Turning more fully toward Hoshi, he reached out and took hold of her hands. She jumped a little, startled; but his hands were warm from holding his mug of hot cocoa, and she welcomed the feeling; her own had gone cold as she spoke, she realised. As though she was afraid, and exposed. 

“Hoshi, does it feel as though that telepath—Tarquin, was it?—has returned?” the lieutenant finally said, a strange note in his voice. Is that anger or concern, or both? “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping? Is he invading your mind again?”

Looking down at their entwined hands, she gulped. That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t know, Malcolm,” she finally ventured, looking up at him. “That’s the scary part. I don’t know . He could be in my mind right now, watching, and I wouldn’t know.” Her hands convulsed within his, and he tightened his grip. 

“I never knew when he was inside my head,” she continued, her voice stronger now. “I never knew when he was poking around in there. And then he’d bring up one of my memories, or what he considered my isolation, and make it seem as though I was lonely and alone on Enterprise. As though all I needed was him in my head to make my world, my life, better.” 

She looked up again, her eyes fierce. “But I wasn’t lonely, and he refused to understand that. We humans, we need our time alone, whether that’s in our heads or simply physically. I’m used to being alone because I was a language prodigy, so I didn’t have classmates, I had tutors. I didn’t really have friends—my own friends, not my family’s—until I joined the Academy. Until I boarded Enterprise. And so being around people all the time is still a little overwhelming, and I still need my time alone, to—to recuperate and recover. And people here understand that.” Her eyes suddenly sparkled with unshed tears. 

“How dare he taint my thoughts and memories? How dare he try to make it seem as though my crew, my Enterprise family, don’t care about me? The captain, Travis, and Trip, Doctor Phlox, Liz, Anna, Janelle, even T’Pol, and you, of course. When every single one of you understands privacy.” Her hands spasmed again, and she turned one to grip his fingers tightly. She was watching their hands, and missed the way his eyes softened as he looked at her bowed head. 

“He got inside my head without me knowing, and he violated me, he plundered my mind without my consent, he saw all of me, all my hidden parts that no one knows, that no one should know but me, and he had no compunction about using what he found against me, no sense that he wildly overstepped the line. 

“He saw everything, but he understood nothing. He used Phlox to persuade me, to talk to me through one of my closest friends. He used Captain Archer to try to trick me into staying with him, and it was only due to an accident on his part that I realised he was lying. How am I supposed to know what’s real?” 

Tears were trickling down her face, and she turned her cheeks against her shoulders, first one side, then the other, wiping them away. She’d basically spewed venom all over him, and he’d just sat there and let her ramble and vent; now she realised how much she’d needed that.

Malcolm’s hands tightened on hers again, then he released her, and for a moment she felt the loss of his warmth. But all he did was move closer, put his arm around her, and draw her head to his shoulder, resting his own dark head against the top of hers. His free hand came over and took hold of her hand again, and she sighed, then sniffled. 

“This is real, Hoshi,” he told her. “The fact that we’re a crew, we’re a family, we would all die for each other and importantly, live for each other—that’s real. We worry about each other, we care, we don’t try to manipulate and use each other. It probably sounds mawkish and too sentimental for the real world—but that’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it? That’s something you can cling to when you’re not certain what’s real and what’s not.”

Hoshi sighed again, but it was a lighter, less burdened sound. Her slender fingers squeezed Malcolm’s hands again, and she turned her cheek into his shoulder gratefully. She found that she couldn’t verbalise how his words made her feel—strange for a linguist, she knew—so she let her actions speak for her.

But now that she’d let out the darkness that had been consuming her, she could focus on the light, and tell him what he meant to her.

“You know, you’ve been a source of steadiness in my life, or at least ever since we joined Enterprise, ” she murmured, and felt him turn his head to look down at her. 

“Tell me,” he said softly, and she swore she felt him press a light kiss to the top of her head. 

“Well … I was so worried about joining, about being here, feeling like I didn’t belong, before we departed. Then you teased me about thinking I had frostbite when we were setting up on the bridge that first day.” An amused huff of air against her head indicated that he remembered. 

Emboldened, she pressed on. “Even though you’re a senior officer, you took the time to help relax a junior. That helped me feel like less of a twit, just being teased without malice. And you encouraged me when I struggled with being on a starship. You even wanted to escort me back to that ship of dead aliens so I wouldn’t be afraid.” She couldn’t help shuddering at the thought, and his arm tightened about her, drawing her closer. 

“And then you helped me with phase pistol practice, and self-defence classes, and when I was stuck in the transporter buffer, I kept hearing your voice—” She dropped her own voice and imitated his English accent. “‘You can do it, Ensign. It's as easy as one, two... three...’ I kept hearing that, and it gave me the confidence to jump onto the alien pad - even if it was only a hallucination.”

“You heard me say that?” he asked, surprised, looking down at her again. 

Hoshi nodded. “It might have been only a few seconds for you, but it felt like hours to me. And there was your voice, over and over again, guiding me back like a verbal beacon. It grounded me.” 

“I had no idea,” he mused, pulling her closer again and returning his head to rest against hers. His thumb began drawing circles on the soft skin where her thumb joined her hand, and she let out a small sigh of contentment. 

“And then you didn’t reprimand me for disobeying a direct order when we were on that Klingon ship. In fact, I think you liked that I wanted to use all the torpedoes, admit it!” He chuckled against her hair, his warm breath ghosting along her scalp. 

“I will admit I fell a little in love with you that day,” he teased. “You weren’t afraid of using big weapons, and you were so defiant and confident. It was captivating to see you take command that way. So, no, there wasn’t any reason to reprimand you; besides, your idea got us out of there, and I could hardly take you to task after that, could I?” He chuckled again, and she huffed out a little laugh of her own. She had behaved rather imperiously, after all. 

Still, his admission had sent a little wave of warmth through her, and although she wouldn’t let herself examine it too closely, it was nice that he felt comfortable enough in their friendship to tease her that way.  

“And then, that time with him,” - she didn’t want to say Tarquin’s name, she realised - “you were the first person I called when he appeared to me, both times. You tried to help me, even though the sensors picked up nothing. I know you weren’t happy about leaving me on the planet alone with him. And—I’ve never told anyone this—but when he appeared to me in human form, he took the shape of a dark-haired man about your height. A man with light eyes. Maybe he was trying to latch on to the way I feel safe when I’m around you. Just another way he tried to manipulate me.”

“Well,” he said carefully - and she heard the restraint in his voice as he controlled what he clearly wanted to say - “I’m glad I make you feel safe, but I can’t help feeling a little peeved that he used that against you.”

Hoshi let out a sardonic chuff. “Yes,” she said bitterly, “he has a way of twisting my good memories to suit his own agenda. Still,” she continued in a less annoyed tone, “he can’t stop the way I feel, and I feel glad that you’re the ship’s protector. And my friend. If there’s one person I can rely on to try and keep me safe, it’s you. Even if you can’t physically protect my mind, I bet you’d give it a damn good try. You’re Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, after all.”

He hadn’t done all that well at protecting her from the Xindi, he mused, but didn’t say. But she still trusted him to watch over her, so by God, he’d do it.

She exhaled, and leaned a little closer to his heat, shivering a little. “Cold?” he asked, his hand rubbing up and down her arm as if to warm her. 

“A little,” she admitted, then yawned as sudden drowsiness overtook her. “But you’re nice and warm, and it’s so cosy here. I could fall asleep right now. Maybe I’d get better rest here than in my quarters, anyway,” she said sleepily. 

She felt rather than heard his rumble of amusement, then he shifted his legs. “Scoot up here,” he instructed. “The couch is wide enough to hold both of us, and you can have a nap without being alone. You certainly need it. Don’t worry, I’ll wake us in plenty of time to get ready for our shift.”

He lay back, his legs awkwardly angled onto the floor, and Hoshi kicked off her shoes, then crawled up the couch to give him room and to get back into the circle of his arm. He toed off his shoes, too, lifted his legs onto the cushions, and turned onto his back so she could nestle into his shoulder between him and the back of the couch. That way he could be between her and any physical danger that might appear. 

“There,” he said, “now you can stay warm and you’ll have your own personal security officer to keep watch over you.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and she murmured something unintelligible. His proximity, the warmth, his steady heartbeat, and her own exhaustion were conspiring to drag her under, and within moments she was asleep.

Malcolm lay quietly for a while, his fingers idly stroking Hoshi’s hair as she lay sleeping quietly, pressed against his side. He considered what she had told him, about feeling as though she was being watched, about her unease in her quarters, about the sense of violation she’d experienced at Tarquin’s hands. 

There had to be some way to help her. He had no doubt that Tarquin was back inside her head, angry at having been rejected, possibly wanting to mete out some sort of revenge against the woman who had spurned him and left him alone with his thoughts and four graves on that isolated planet.

He’d also noticed how her language had changed from past to present; “he has a way of twisting my memories”, not ”had”. Even if Hoshi had difficulty admitting it, she knew that Tarquin was at the root of her trouble.

Malcolm sighed, his brain whirling. A thought nagged at him, but too far in the recesses of his brain to make sense. He was also tired, and needed to sleep before their shift started in five hours. He set his internal clock for oh-five-hundred; that should give them enough time to get back to their quarters and prepare for the day. With the thought meandering through his brain, Malcolm draped his free arm over Hoshi and fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

Three things woke Malcolm; his internal alarm clock, the sound of the door opening, and a whimper from Hoshi. He came awake instantly, as he had long trained his body to do, but lay still, taking stock of his surroundings. 

He was still on his back, holding Hoshi, and she was cuddled into his side, one hand gripping his t-shirt. She’d draped a leg over his, and her head was tucked into his shoulder, hair against his neck. She whimpered again and her body twitched, her hand convulsing on his chest.

A familiar face - no, three - appeared over the back of the couch; as was his wont, Trip was smiling, the blonde chief engineer gleeful at possibly having caught out his friends in a semi-compromising position. The Vulcan was stoic as ever. And—the captain? Damn, he thought sourly, was he going to get an earful, judging by the look on Archer’s face. 

Trip opened his mouth to speak and Malcolm immediately raised his free hand with a quick, imperious shake, silencing the man. Hoshi was starting to shake and cry out. 

“Leave me alone! I told you, get out of my head!”

With a warning glare at Trip, Malcolm gently stroked his free hand down her arm. “Wake up, Hoshi. You’re safe. You’re on Enterprise. Wake up.” His voice was quiet, not wanting her to wake with a start. She did anyway, clutching at him in panic.

“Malcolm? Are you real? You didn’t leave me alone?” Her eyes were huge in her delicate face, her voice constricted.

“Of course not. I promised to protect you, didn’t I?” He shifted as the expressions on Trip and Archer’s faces turned to bemusement. T’Pol’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but we have company. Real company, I mean.”

Hoshi looked up and almost jumped straight off the couch; if Malcolm hadn’t been holding onto her firmly, the start she gave would have sent him tumbling onto the floor. As it was, he had to tighten his hold to prevent himself from falling. 

“Sirs! I didn’t—we didn’t—oh no…” Hoshi exclaimed, then groaned. 

“It’s alright, Ensign,” Malcolm soothed as he sat upright, bringing her with him by virtue of having his arms around her. “I doubt anyone is going to give you a formal reprimand. That would fall on me as your senior officer, in any event.” 

She gave him a panicked glance. “Please don’t punish Lieutenant Reed, sir!” she blurted at the captain. “He was looking after me. We’re not late for our shift, are we?”

“No, we came in here to have a coffee as we were early and found you,” Archer said. “Why are you not in your quarters?” He was clearly torn between annoyance at the situation and concern for his communications officer. His eyes promised Malcolm that there would be consequences if he’d compromised the junior officer in any way.

Malcolm ignored the unspoken threat, slipping off the couch to crouch beside Hoshi, holding her hands. “Look at me, Ensign,” he said. Her eyes met his apprehensively and he tried to communicate confidence and support through his gaze and the pressure of his hands on hers. “Don’t you think it’s time you told the captain what’s been happening to you?”

Hoshi started to shake her head and he squeezed her hands again, putting more authority into his voice. “I know you don’t want to, I know it’s frightening, but I won’t let anything happen to you. Remember what’s real. We’re your friends, your family. We’re the ones who are going to find a way to help you. You’re not alone, and we won’t let you do this on your own.” 

He felt rather than saw Trip’s confusion and Archer’s dawning awareness, but kept his eyes on Hoshi’s until he saw her tiny nod of acquiescence. Giving her a comforting smile he rose, using his grip on her hands to draw her to her feet. She shifted uncomfortably, withdrawing one hand and pulling her shirt closed over her t-shirt. 

“Captain,” Malcolm said, his eyes not leaving hers, “would you mind if the Ensign and I prepared ourselves for our shift and met you in your ready room? I don’t think she’s entirely comfortable talking to you while she’s in her nightclothes.”

Archer frowned, clearly wanting to know what was happening but unwilling to discomfort his communications officer any further than necessary. He could see that she was already on edge, in the middle of all her seniors in just her pyjamas, and would be unlikely to relax enough for them to get the story out of her. 

So he nodded curtly at the lieutenant but modulated his voice as much as he could for Hoshi. She would undoubtedly hear the frustration in it no matter how gentle he tried to be, but he tried anyway. “Very well, Lieutenant,” he agreed. “My ready room, one hour.”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm responded, then looked at T’Pol. “Commander, if I may.” She looked at him silently, and nodded. “This is presumptuous of me, but would you mind accompanying Ensign Sato to her quarters and keeping her company while she gets ready? Given the circumstances to be related, perhaps it’s best she not be on her own right now.” Hoshi’s eyes flew to his and a blush reddened her cheeks. 

“I don’t want to put the Commander to any trouble,” she began, but T’Pol interrupted her. 

“Certainly, Lieutenant Reed,” the Vulcan said, inclining her head. “Ensign, the lieutenant is correct. You seem … troubled. I will not get in your way, but perhaps it is best that you are not alone at this time. At least not until you have both spoken to the captain.”

Hoshi muttered something under her breath, forgetting that T’Pol’s Vulcan hearing was at least as sharp as her own. “You are certainly not a child,” the Commander said blandly, “but as your superior, it is my duty to ensure your wellbeing.” 

Malcolm swallowed a smile at the recalcitrance on Hoshi’s face; he had the feeling she would be more than happy to kick him in the shins for this. He finally released her hands, picked up their shoes and handed Hoshi's to her, and turned her toward the door with a gentle hand at the small of her back, giving her a surreptitious wink as he did so. 

She sniffed - or was that a snort? - as she took the shoes and lifted her chin as she walked around the couch, flicking a glance at Trip and Captain Archer as she headed out of the room, T’Pol beside her. Eager to escape the questions he knew were coming and which he didn’t feel comfortable answering without Hoshi there, Malcolm followed on their heels, with a quick nod to his CO and the chief engineer as he hurried out of the room, shoes in hand. 

“Hoshi,” he called as he entered the corridor. She stopped, but didn’t turn. T’Pol walked on a few steps, giving them some privacy, and waited calmly for her junior. Malcolm stopped beside Hoshi, but didn’t attempt to take her hand again. 

“I’m sorry for being pushy and putting you on the spot,” he said in a low voice. “I know you think I’m interfering and I suppose I am. But this situation … I didn’t do such a wonderful job of protecting you from the Xindi, and I’ll be damned if I let you be hurt again when I could have done something to help.”

Frowning, Hoshi kept her eyes lowered. He could see her struggling to remain calm and hid a smile; Hoshi had a formidable temper and he was already likely to be on the receiving end of it. No need to tempt fate further by letting her catch him smiling. 

For a moment she glared up at him, and then her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “I know you’re helping, Malcolm. And I appreciate it, I do,” she said, looking at the floor once more. ”I was just blindsided by waking up with the captain looking like a thundercloud and me in my pyjamas in front of all my senior officers, and then suddenly it turns out I’m going to be telling them about something weird that’s happening in my brain. It’s … a little overwhelming.” 

Hoshi hesitated, and looked up again. “But I didn’t say thank you for last night. For listening, and keeping me safe while I finally got some sleep.” She smiled, and he felt his heart thump at the sweetness in that smile. “When I met you at the mess hall last night, I wanted to demand that you protect me. And you did. So, thank you.” 

She went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then stepped back. For a moment they stared at each other, then Hoshi wrinkled her nose charmingly and walked off to T’Pol with a quick backward glance. “See you in the ready room soon, Lieutenant.”

“You have 48 minutes,” T’Pol said prosaically , and they both started and hurried off to their respective quarters. 

Chapter Text

As Hoshi opened the door to her quarters, she hesitated for a second before stepping in. It felt like just a normal room, empty but relatively tidy, the bed rumpled where she had lain, trying to read. She still felt uneasy in the space, though. 

T’Pol entered behind her and stood in her customary pose with her hands loosely grasped behind her, looking around. Is she judging? No, Hoshi decided, she wasn’t going to worry about that, and she certainly wasn’t going to do anything as silly as show human embarrassment, rushing around apologising for the place being a mess, when it clearly wasn’t. The logical Vulcan would only raise an eyebrow if she did so. 

“Please, have a seat, Commander,” she offered. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” So saying, she grabbed a fresh uniform and underwear from her locker and headed for the bathroom. Just before she reached the door, she stopped and turned to the Vulcan. “Thank you for accompanying me. I know it’s illogical, but it does feel better to have someone else here and not be alone.” 

“Certainly, Ensign,” T’Pol replied. The first officer turned and sat down on the desk chair, perfectly upright, focusing her attention on the PADD she had been carrying. As Hoshi turned back to the bathroom door, T’Pol looked up and halted her. “Ensign. You appeared disconcerted when Lieutenant Reed asked me to accompany you to your quarters. Do not forget that it is perfectly logical to seek aid when needed.” Clearly considering that she had said all that needed to be said, the Vulcan turned back to her PADD.

Blinking at the thought that T’Pol had been attempting to reassure her, Hoshi hurried into the bathroom, letting the water heat while she brushed her teeth and tied her hair back. Hopping into the shower, she sighed in enjoyment of the hot water, making quick work of washing herself, before towelling off and dragging on her underwear, undershirt, coveralls, and socks. She quickly brushed her hair and put it into its customary double ponytail.  

As she turned away from the mirror, she caught a glimpse of a figure standing in the corner, and spun around with a cry. 

It was Tarquin after all. Or, at least, his Malcolm-like avatar. He didn’t say anything, just stared at her. There was something a little different, though. The avatar’s face seemed more bitter than she remembered. It was understandable, she mused, since he was now more alone than ever after she had rejected his overtures. 

But that didn’t mean he could just show up - in her bathroom, no less, where she’d just been naked! It might have provided incontrovertible proof that he was around and very likely delving into her mind again, but showed yet again that he had no concept of boundaries. At least she wasn’t physically naked now, but that meant very little when he had the habit of stripping her mind bare.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, Tarquin?” she said angrily. “Why do you keep following me around? I told you I don’t appreciate you invading my mind at your leisure, when I don’t even know you’re there! It’s invasive and controlling and I don’t want it!”

Tarquin’s avatar remained silent, but his face twisted slightly, and Hoshi felt a shiver run through her at the undisguised anger she glimpsed for a moment. 

Then T’Pol called through the door, “Are you alright, Ensign?” and she half-turned to reply, “Yes, Commander.” When she looked back, he had disappeared. 

Rubbing at her forehead, Hoshi opened the door and walked through to find that the Vulcan had risen from her seat and come closer to the bathroom. 

“Who were you talking to?” she inquired.

“The telepath—Tarquin,” Hoshi explained. “Or at least his avatar. He didn’t speak, but I did. I told him to leave me alone and stay out of my mind. But from his expression—I don’t think he will.”

T’Pol kept her thoughts to herself, waiting for Hoshi to put on her boots before gesturing for the junior officer to precede her out of the room. They maintained silence as they headed toward the captain’s ready room, arriving a minute before the designated time. 

Malcolm stood outside, his hair slightly damp but neatly combed, uniform pristine despite the rush with which he’d dressed, boots shiny. He nodded at T’Pol, and gave Hoshi a quick, reassuring smile, squeezing her arm for a moment before dropping his hand back to his side. 

The ready room door opened, and T’Pol walked inside, Hoshi following, and Malcolm bringing up the rear, the door closing behind him. The captain and Trip were already waiting, both standing near the window. 

Hoshi came to a stop, swallowing hard. She suddenly felt like a young school child called in front of the headmaster. She could see from his profile that Captain Archer was frowning, doing nothing to dispel the notion that she was in trouble. 

Then Malcolm put his hand on her back as though to direct her, giving her a quick rub down her spine, and she felt some of her apprehension ease as he came to stand beside her, allowing his shoulder to touch hers as they both stood at parade rest. 

T’Pol continued to the centre of the room, where she stood between the two groups, her face inscrutable. Trip moved to stand near her, leaving the captain near the viewport. 

Turning to look more directly at his two officers, Archer’s expression softened from its frown as he saw the tension in Hoshi’s shoulders and how close Malcolm was standing to her, clearly in a protective mood. The look on the tactical officer’s face seemed to dare anyone to discomfort Hoshi, even though he kept his eyes firmly fixed above Archer’s eye-level. 

Hoshi, on the other hand, simply stared at the table in front of her until Malcolm said, his voice quiet but firm, “Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato reporting as ordered, Captain.” Then she started almost imperceptibly, casting a quick glance at Malcolm’s profile before straightening to match his pose, her eyes lifting like his. 

Archer hid a smile at his communications officer’s unconscious imitation of his tactical officer, coughing before acknowledging Malcolm’s words. “Lieutenant, Ensign. At ease.” As they both relaxed their shoulders - Hoshi once again following Malcolm’s lead - he followed up with, “Now I’d like to know just what’s going on, and why the two of you were sleeping in the observation room instead of each in your own quarters.”

Hoshi barely stopped herself from snorting at the captain’s none-too-subtle implication that they should stay far apart, preferably not touching in any way. Malcolm didn’t say anything, so she took the lead and repeated his words to her. “Lieutenant Reed was acting as my personal security officer so I could sleep without interruption, sir.” 

Archer looked taken aback. “Has someone been bothering you, Hoshi?” he demanded. “A member of the crew?” He seemed to have forgotten his unspoken threat to Malcolm on the observation deck. 

“Yes, sir, and no, sir,” Hoshi replied. This time it was Malcolm throwing her a sidelong glance. She hadn’t been so certain when they’d spoken earlier. Although Hoshi knew he was looking at her, she kept her eyes on the captain, who was frowning once again as he parsed her words. Then his brow cleared as the implication became clear. 

“That telepath?” he asked, in a voice that boded ill for Tarquin. Though what he imagined he could do, Hoshi wasn’t sure. 

She nodded. “Until now I just suspected, but while I was getting ready, he appeared in my bathroom.” She forbore from mentioning that he’d appeared in the form in which he looked similar to Malcolm; she hadn’t told anyone but the tactical officer about that. 

“Did he say what he wanted?” Captain Archer asked.

“No, sir,” Hoshi replied. “He didn’t say anything. But … he looked pretty angry. So I don’t think it’s anything good.” 

This time Malcolm turned his head and looked at her, a slight frown on his face. “Do you think he would hurt you?” he asked, his tone serious. 

Hoshi hesitated. Would he hurt her? She wanted to say no, but the look in his eyes had been almost murderous. “I’m … not sure,” she said slowly, her eyes tracking past the captain and through the window as she considered the question. “An hour ago I would have said no, but the way he looked in my quarters … he might.” 

“And you can’t feel whether or not he’s inside your head?” the tactical officer probed. This time Hoshi looked at him. His frown had deepened, and he looked worried. She shook her head. 

“He could be here right now, and I wouldn’t know,” she acknowledged. “And that’s what I told him over and over; that I wasn’t comfortable with someone whose mind I couldn’t see, but who could enter mine at will when I had no way of knowing. Especially now, seeing his anger—who knows what he’s doing in there? Because I have no doubt he’s combing through my memories again.”

“Captain, we have to do something!” Malcolm blurted, turning to Archer. “The situation is untenable. We can’t have some telepath lurking around in Hoshi’s head like this, especially so soon after…” his words trailed off, and Archer’s face tightened. No one needed reminding of what she had gone through at the hands of the Xindi. That still didn’t make it any easier to talk about. 

Archer frowned even more deeply, and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter a word, the door chime sounded. “Who is it?” he called, and a familiar voice came through the speaker. 

“Let me in, pinkskin,” said Shran, his voice sounding tinny through the comm panel. “Jhamel has something she wishes to say.”

Chapter Text

The captain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get rid of them quickly,” he said to Hoshi, and then called, “Come in.”

The door opened with a hiss and the short, sturdy Andorian allowed the paler-skinned Aenar to precede him into the room. 

Although they both had white hair, Jhamel’s skin was tinged a pale green and she carried herself with grace, her blind, unseeing eyes a cloudy blue with thick white lashes surrounding them. Shran’s skin was a deep, healthy sapphire, and his mannerisms were far more abrupt and heavy than Jhamel’s. His warrior-like bearing carried with it an unconscious arrogance, but he was clearly protective of Jhamel, solicitous of her comfort and safety. Very much like Malcolm’s behaving toward Hoshi , Archer realised with a start. 

“Archer,” Shran said without preamble, his antennae waving almost arrogantly, “Jhamel has picked up…” He paused as Jhamel laid a gentle hand on his arm, turning toward the blind Aenar and covering her hand with his own, larger one. His antennae drew together and then seemed to relax as they pointed toward her.

“She is here, is she not?” Jhamel asked, her voice light and musical. Despite the lines left on her face by the trauma and grief of losing her brother and the neurological shock of the past few days, she remained composed and calm, her antennae waving gently as though tasting the air. Withdrawing her hand from Shran’s, she stepped forward, her blind gaze tracking around the room until it centered on Hoshi, her antennae following suit. 

“He has hurt you terribly,” she said, her voice sorrowful. Her antennae drooped, then lifted again. “But you are angry, and so you fight.”

“I won’t allow him to control me, or to take my thoughts, any longer,” Hoshi replied, not even questioning how the young Aenar knew of her predicament. Her tone was determined, and Malcolm felt a surge of pride in her as he heard it. “Can you help me?”

“I will try,” Jhamel responded. “It may mean you will have to let me enter your mind.”

For a moment Hoshi seemed uncertain; then she looked at Malcolm, and he smiled at her encouragingly.

Taking a deep breath to brace herself, Hoshi nodded, even though she knew Jhamel couldn’t see her. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The Aenar’s antennae waved delicately. She held out her hands, and Hoshi stepped forward and took them. 

Malcolm watched in some trepidation as the gentle-seeming young alien joined hands with Hoshi. Both women looked at each other, Jhamel’s blind eyes closing at the same time as Hoshi’s. 

He looked at Shran, who was also watching the two. He’d expected to see concern on the Andorian’s face, the same as he felt inside. But Shran’s expression was not only unconcerned, it was confident, even proud. 

The commander’s eyes shifted to Malcolm’s, as though he was aware of the Brit’s gaze—of course he’s aware, he isn’t a member of the Imperial Guard for nothing—and he nodded fractionally, as though in reassurance. Malcolm felt his stiff shoulders easing somewhat, and he nodded back before returning his gaze to the two women. 

He could see, in his peripheral vision, that T’Pol, Trip, and Archer were all watching as well; T’Pol calmly—her eyebrows aren’t even raised—Trip with some puzzlement and dawning awareness, and Archer with concern and perhaps even sorrow in his green eyes. Why would the captain be sorrowful?  he wondered. Perhaps because of Jhamel’s loss?  That was all that came to mind. He dismissed his thoughts and concentrated on Hoshi instead. 

Her eyelids were beginning to flutter, and he saw her muscles starting to loosen. Taking a quick step forward, he caught her as she slumped, her hands sliding from Jhamel’s even as the Aenar dropped into Shran’s waiting embrace. Malcolm lifted Hoshi at the same time as Shran lifted Jhamel, both men moving to the table and pulling out chairs with their feet to sit down, holding the women in their arms. 

“We should keep them close together,” Shran said to Malcolm. “Whatever Jhamel was doing, it seems prudent that she be near your officer for the moment.”

Malcolm nodded in agreement. He gathered Hoshi closer and unconsciously started rocking her soothingly until he caught Archer’s eye and realised what he was doing. Self-consciously straightening in his chair, he saw Trip hiding a smirk and narrowed his eyes at the chief engineer, silently promising payback at a later date. Trip’s face froze in alarm and he seemed to shuffle slightly toward the Vulcan first officer as though seeking shelter, Malcolm noticed with some satisfaction. 

Dismissing the by-play from his mind, he looked down as Hoshi began to stir. Her hand came up and clutched at his uniform, and her eyelids fluttered again as her lips parted and she sucked in a breath. Across from him, Jhamel was behaving similarly in Shran’s arms. 

The women opened their eyes at the same time, Hoshi staring into Malcolm’s grey eyes, Jhamel looking unseeingly into Shran’s blue ones - though Malcolm was increasingly convinced that she could ‘see’ without needing physical awareness. 

For a moment Hoshi’s eyes were unfocused, then they cleared and she blinked up at him. “Malcolm?” she said uncertainly, and he smiled down at her. 

“That’s my name,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“A little muzzy,” she confessed. “But—” she let go of his uniform and raised her hand to her head. “My head feels … emptier. Freer.” She looked over at Jhamel, who was speaking to Shran in Andorian, her voice low and slightly pained. As if sensing Hoshi’s gaze, the Aenar turned her sightless gaze their way. 

Answering an unspoken question, Jhamel said in her soft, musical voice, “He is not gone entirely. There is yet much to do. But for now, I have set up some defences for you. You should be able to get some rest for today, at least.” Her eyes shifted to Malcolm. “Keep your protector close. He will give you the strength you need and watch over you while you sleep.”

Shran looked over her head at Malcolm, and nodded again. As Jhamel shifted as though to stand, he gripped her tighter and stood, himself. She protested, and he said firmly, “I am taking you to our quarters. You need to rest, if you are to help your new friend. And I am certain the lieutenant will be doing the same with his charge.”

Jhamel subsided reluctantly, then turned to Hoshi once more. “We will meet again tonight, at your quarters in eight hours.” She looked at Shran for confirmation. 

“Eighteen hundred by Earth hours,” he supplied. 

Jhamel nodded, and her head turned, seeking out T’Pol. “Your assistance would be most appreciated.” T’Pol’s eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly before she nodded politely. 

With no further preamble, Shran nodded to Archer, inclined his head to T’Pol and Trip, and strode toward the door. Jhamel murmured something too low for even Hoshi’s ears to catch, and he laughed and said, “No, I will not put you down. You weigh almost nothing, anyway. It will be faster for me to carry you to our quarters so you can get to rest sooner.” His tone was both fond and exasperated. Their quiet bickering continued as he stepped through the door, and was cut off as it closed behind them. 

Though small, Shran bore the presence of a much larger man, his confidence and arrogance seeming to fill the room. With his overwhelming presence gone, the room felt strangely quiet. Archer looked over at Malcolm, still holding Hoshi, whose hand had once again clasped itself onto Malcolm’s uniform and whose eyes were closing. He watched as she snuggled her cheek into the tactical officer’s shoulder and let out a small sigh. 

Malcolm looked down at her fondly, then up at the three senior officers watching them. His back straightened as he drew Hoshi closer protectively. “She’s asleep again, sir,” he said to Archer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take her to my quarters to rest, as Shran recommended.”

“Your quarters, Malcolm?” Archer said, frowning slightly. Malcolm shifted under that green gaze, but his face remained impassive. 

“Yes, sir. She said she felt uncomfortable in her quarters, like someone was there, watching her. That’s why I asked Commander T'Pol to accompany her earlier. And,” he added, seeing that Archer looked unconvinced, “Shran’s quarters are just down the corridor from mine, should I need to get Hoshi—the ensign—to Jhamel in a hurry.”

“The lieutenant’s reasoning is sound,” T’Pol remarked. “And Ensign Sato seems to have decided subconsciously that she is safe with him.”

“How do you know that?” Archer asked. T’Pol’s eyebrow went up, and she gazed at him impassively. 

“She told him what was happening before anyone else, she slept beside him all night, she listened to him when he asked me to accompany her, and she designated him her personal security officer,” the Vulcan listed, her tone as calm as if she were reading off a shopping list. “In addition, she has only released her hold on him once in the past five minutes, and has fallen asleep in his arms.” She looked at Hoshi, then back at the captain. 

“I am certain that, were she in the right frame of mind, Ensign Sato would be mortified at being so vulnerable in front of her captain and senior officers. However, she is not in her right mind, and should Jhamel’s plan come to fruition, she will need all the rest she can get.” This time, she looked directly at Malcolm. “I recommend that Lieutenant Reed be allowed to convey Ensign Sato to his quarters and watch over her while she sleeps. This will have the added benefit of reassuring her should she awaken.”

Archer’s mouth had compressed into a thin line, and it was clear that he was not best pleased with the advice. Before he could speak, though, Trip had added his voice to the argument. 

“T’Pol’s right, cap’n,” he said in a low voice. “Hoshi’s on edge. Takin’ her back to her own quarters and leaving her alone is probably not a good idea. And I’m certain that Malcolm will be the perfect gentleman.” He shot a sunny smirk at Malcolm with the last. Malcolm wisely remained silent. 

For a moment Archer looked recalcitrant while he thought it over. Then his brow cleared, and he nodded to Malcolm. “Very well, Lieutenant, you may take Hoshi to your quarters. I would have liked you to stop by Sickbay first, but I’ll send Phlox directly to you instead. Make sure the ensign is at her quarters at precisely eighteen-hundred. Dismissed.”

Malcolm nodded and rose, shifting Hoshi in his arms as he did so. She grumbled incoherently, but stayed quiet and acquiescent. Without any further words, he headed for the door, pressing the button with the hand under her knees and heading through sideways, careful not to bump her into the doorframe. 

Chapter Text

He ignored the stares from Travis and the bridge crew stand-ins as he headed for the turbo-lift, Hoshi’s head still tucked into his shoulder, one hand still gripping the front of his uniform. The sound of running feet came from behind him, and Trip called, “Hey, Malcolm, wait up!”

He paused, turning slightly, and Trip came up and pressed the button. The doors opened, and Malcolm stepped inside, Trip joining him and pressing the button for B-Deck. The two stood in silence for a moment, the Floridian shifting uneasily, while the Englishman stood firm and silent. 

“Malcolm … you know I’m behind you on this, don’t you?” Trip suddenly blurted. Malcolm looked at him askance, but said nothing. “I mean, I might tease you about Hoshi sometimes-” Malcolm snorted indelicately, and Trip had the grace to look abashed. “Okay, a lot of the time. But that’s only because you’re so easy to tease.” 

The chief engineer sucked in a breath. “Thing is, I kind of see Hoshi as a little sister. So I—I guess I’m a touch overprotective, is all. But Mal—colm,” he finished the name, as the tactical officer’s mouth pinched at the diminutive, “I know this is going to sound mushy, but—I want her to be with someone who’ll be kind to that big heart of hers, and protect her without smotherin’ her, knowin’ that she’ll look out for them, too. And I can’t think of anyone who fits the bill for that more than you.” 

This time Malcolm looked up at Trip with some surprise, mingled with guarded appreciation. The blond man met his eyes unflinchingly, his expression serious. For a moment the Brit hesitated; then his expression cleared, and he said quietly, “Thank you. She means … well, everything to me.”

“Have you told her?”

The shorter man bent his dark head to look at the woman asleep in his arms. “Not yet. I didn’t want to push her, especially after—you know.”

Trip let out a small, exasperated noise. “Malcolm. You’ve loved her for years. Everyone knows you’ll protect her with your life.”

“Everyone?” Malcolm looked a little shocked.

“Everyone who counts,” Trip confirmed. “Even the captain, though he wouldn’t say anythin’.”

“T’Pol?”

Trip shrugged. “Maybe a couple of years ago T’Pol might've kicked up a fuss, but you’re not in the same chain of command. You’re security, she’s science. And Starfleet is relooking its policies on fraternisation on long-term voyages, anyway. Not to mention that the cap’n is prepared to look the other way as long as no one brings anythin’ directly to his attention.”

At that moment the turbo-lift halted and the door slid open. By tacit consent, the men ceased their conversation, heading toward the tactical officer’s quarters. Once again Malcolm ignored any stares, while Trip glared if anyone looked for too long. He opened the door for Malcolm, letting the shorter man precede him. 

He was impressed that the Brit did not seem at all discomposed by carrying Hoshi all the way from the ready room. She was a small woman, but that didn’t mean she was light enough to carry long distances. Malcolm wasn’t even breathing hard when he stepped into his quarters, which were neat as a pin, as always. Trip closed the door behind them as the tactical officer carried Hoshi toward the bed, bending to lay her down gently on the coverlet. 

Hoshi, it appeared, had other ideas. She stirred, protesting unintelligibly, her hand tightening on his uniform. Although he slid his arms out from under her, gently arranging her head on his pillow, Malcolm was unable to straighten with her hand clutching at him. 

“Hush now, Hoshi, you’re safe here,” he murmured, carefully disentangling her fingers from his uniform. 

“Don’t leave me, Malcolm,” she fretted, her sleepy eyes opening. “You promised to protect me.”

“And I will,” he soothed, reaching into the drawer beneath the bed to pull out a comforter and draw it over her. “I’m not going anywhere. Here, scoot over and I’ll sit with you. Trip’s here, and he’ll stay for a while, too.” He perched on the edge of the bed.

“That’s nice. Trip’s nice,” Hoshi murmured, trying to force her eyes open. They felt so heavy. 

She vaguely saw a blurred face topped with light hair draw closer, and heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, Hoshi, how’re you doin’?” in a tone that was determinedly cheerful and trying to hide concern. She was too exhausted to try and parse the hidden meanings, though.

“M’okay now, Trip,” she mumbled, and yawned. “Malcolm’s got me.” Her eyes closed again. “Alone in m’head. Gotta sleep.” And she turned onto her side, threw her arm across Malcolm’s legs where he sat beside her pillow, and fell asleep again. 

Malcolm sighed and shook his head at Trip. “She’s really out of it. Whatever Jhamel did took it out of both of them. I guess we’ll have to wait to find out what’s going to happen this evening.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Trip agreed. “I’ve got to get back to work, but comm me if you need anythin’. If you’re gonna be here for eight hours, you’ll need food and drink, and leavin' Hoshi alone to fetch that is not an option.”

Malcolm looked thoughtful and nodded. “Good point. Thanks, Comman—Trip... I’ll try to get some work done from here, too, if and when I can move to my desk.” A smile lurked in his eyes and Trip grinned in return. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to go, when Malcolm stopped him. 

“Trip.” He turned. “Will you send Doctor Phlox this way? The captain was quite adamant that he have a look at Hoshi—and Jhamel, I presume—and that should probably happen sooner rather than later.”

Trip nodded. “Will do. Let me head that way right now.” And with a quick wave, he left. 

Malcolm leaned back against the locker and allowed his hand to come to rest on Hoshi’s back, rubbing it gently. She made a noise halfway between a grumble and a sigh, and tightened her grip on him before relaxing again as he made slow circles between her shoulder-blades.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do once this ordeal was over. He’d long held a torch for Hoshi, having watched her blossom from her initial discomfort at being on a starship - with all its noises that only she could pick up, and the knowledge that its hull was the only thing between them and the vastness of space - to a self-assured, competent officer whose skill was often the only thing standing between them and disaster. 

She’d taken steps to improve both her confidence and physical abilities, to the extent that she was able to take over phase weapon training and had had fair success against the MACOs in sparring sessions. And aside from those first couple of weeks aboard Enterprise, she had never been afraid to make her thoughts known, even when they contradicted those of her senior officers. 

The fact was, while he thought he was a good man now, his past rankled; a past which - well, could be described as sordid, he supposed, though he shied away from using that term himself. It was too discomforting. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of, all in the service of a group that hid itself from the very institution it was sworn to protect. Things that he didn’t want Hoshi to know about, let alone the rest of the crew. 

He’d felt quite daring as he’d teased her about ‘falling in love’ with her during that incident on the Klingon vessel; but the truth was, he’d pretty much fallen head over heels for her right from the start, when she’d turned to him worrying about frostbite, and he’d taken her slender fingers in his and looked up into those lovely brown eyes. 

In fairness, that had been a case of instant attraction to a beautiful woman - a combination of lust and desire (be honest, it was more lust at first); but over the years Hoshi had become one of his most trusted confidants and closest friends, and that initial physical attraction had turned into something deeper and more vital along the way. He would, without demur, lay down his life for anyone on the ship - even the MACOs, if it came to that - but for Hoshi, he would walk through the gates of hell itself and challenge the devil to single combat. 

Which was why it was so frustrating to be unable to help her in her current circumstances. He could be here for her physically, holding her, rubbing her back, watching over her as she slept; but he couldn’t help where she needed it most. I wasn’t particularly helpful the first time Tarquin was in her head, he thought miserably; even with all his scans, he hadn’t picked up anything on the ship, and he writhed internally as he remembered trying to soothe her with descriptions of his own unquiet Xindi-related thoughts, not really understanding what she was experiencing. 

And then, to see the alien who’d been inside her mind, and realising that she was expected to remain alone on the planet with him; every fibre of his being had rebelled against the idea, but she had insisted that she could take care of herself, and the captain had agreed; so he had had to rein in his immediate protectiveness and warp away with Enterprise, worrying about her the entire time. And take care of herself, she had; saving the ship into the bargain. She was no pushover, was Hoshi. To find out, only a few hours ago, that Tarquin had used a likeness similar to him, had made him so wrathful he’d had a hard time concealing it from the astute linguist; only the fact that she had indicated it was likely that Tarquin had chosen his avatar because she felt safe around Malcolm had allowed him to temper his immediate rage. 

It had hurt a bit when she’d given her verbal post-mission report and how she’d come to the realisation that Tarquin was deceiving her - the mention of Travis having tipped her off. But later, when recounting as much of the tale as she was allowed to Travis and Crewman Cutler, she’d turned to him and said that her immediate response upon finding herself trapped was, “What would Malcolm do?” - spurring her on to find the alien’s weakness and save the ship. He couldn’t stop the wave of pride that had surged over him at her words. I wonder if she saw how good that made me feel? She’s an expert at body language, after all, he mused, looking down at her sleeping face and carefully brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

He still hadn’t taken it any further than a close and comfortable friendship, however; and then she’d been taken by the Xindi, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He couldn’t even join the team that had gone to rescue her; he remembered telling Major Hayes that Hoshi was his good friend, his eyes saying what he could not. He’d seen understanding flash in the MACO’s eyes as the latter had nodded, perhaps the first time the two of them had understood each other without crossed communication. The major had died in the mission to rescue Hoshi, and Malcolm owed him a debt he could never repay.

He was interrupted in his musings by the sound of the door chime. Doctor Phlox was here.

Chapter Text

“Come in,” Malcolm called, and the door opened. 

“No need to get up, Lieutenant,” said the doctor cheerfully as he came through the door. “I’m simply going to scan the ensign and it would be best while she’s relaxed, anyway.” So saying, he ran the scanner over Hoshi, his keen blue eyes taking in her sleeping arrangements without comment. 

“Well,” he said, eyes on the scanner, “she seems to be in perfect health. A little more neural activity than is usual for someone sleeping. Are you able to tell me what happened earlier? Commander Tucker was rather vague about the matter.”

For a moment Malcolm hesitated; it wasn’t necessarily his story to tell. But Hoshi was asleep and resting peacefully; he was loath to wake her. And the doctor needed some context, surely? He decided to be as vague as possible while still giving context clues. 

“I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tell you, doctor, but what I can say is that it appears Tarquin has reappeared and is—not best pleased that the ensign rejected his demand a year ago. She was complaining of feeling watched again, particularly in her quarters. Then the Aenar—Jhamel—did something that seemed to… what was it Hoshi said?” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Oh, yes, she said it felt like she was alone in her mind. She felt freer.” 

He looked down at her fondly, rubbing her back again, and suddenly realised that he’d used her first name instead of rank. He looked up sharply and caught the doctor watching him speculatively, his smile still in place. Malcolm flushed, but held the stare, and the Denobulan nodded, seemingly in approval. 

“Both Jhamel and the ensign fainted, though, and that’s why she’s here. I brought her to my quarters to watch over her in relative safety, and Shran took Jhamel back to their quarters for the same purpose.”

The doctor nodded again. “Yes, the commander mentioned that the captain wanted me to check in on both the ensign and our guest. I’ll be heading to their quarters as soon as I’m done here.” He paused, and that speculative look was back in his big, startlingly blue eyes. “Keep Ensign Sato under close watch, Lieutenant. While her scans may show that she’s in perfect health, the heightened neural activity and her concerns about the telepath indicate once again that there is something going on that we cannot fathom and therefore cannot prevent.”

Malcolm swallowed and nodded, looking down at Hoshi again and then back at Phlox. “I intend to do just that, Doctor,” he reassured the Denobulan. “I’m not letting her out of my sight, at least not until this is resolved.”

Phlox looked pleased. “Very good,” he agreed. “I might suggest that you talk to her while she’s asleep. Much as one does with a coma patient.”

“Talk about what, Doctor?” 

“Oh, anything. It’s the sound and tone of your voice that’s important. You could talk about your hobbies, or read her a book, or tell her—well, any number of things.” His smile turned into that particularly wide grin he tended to give when satisfied, and Malcolm flushed again, but said nothing. “Though if I were you, I’d be careful about mentioning the Xindi—it might trigger her subconscious and it’s better that that happens when she’s awake and able to control it. And perhaps, given her concerns about being watched, steer clear of tactical issues, hmm?”

“Agreed, Doctor,” Malcolm responded. “You never know who might be listening.”

“Precisely, Lieutenant! In fact,” the doctor said, now looking thoughtful, “perhaps whomever is trying to use our good friend’s mind to their own advantage would be best served by hearing about how important she is to us.” His face was suddenly serious. “I doubt that anyone on the ship would willingly allow Ensign Sato to be hurt on our behalf, and whatever this much-vaunted telepath might think, she is surrounded by people who care for her very much.” The doctor’s usually genial face hardened somewhat as Malcolm watched. Then the Denobulan seemed to collect himself and grinned at the tactical officer once more. “It wouldn’t hurt for both the ensign and the telepath—if he’s listening again—to know just how important she is to her Enterprise family. We won’t give her up without a fight.”

Malcolm nodded. “My thoughts exactly, Doctor,” he said gravely. “I’ll be sure to make that clear when I talk to Hoshi, and I’ll keep a close eye on her condition.”

Phlox nodded. “I’m sure the ensign will be most gratified by your protectiveness and attention, hmm? In any event, that’s all for now,” he continued, not waiting for a reply. Putting away his scanner and stepping away from the bed, he headed toward the door.. “Call me immediately she wakes up or if anything untoward starts happening.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Malcolm agreed. “I’ll let you know right away.”

“Very well, then, I shall check on Jhamel and, barring any unexpected occurrences, I’ll return in four hours for a second check-up. Good morning, Lieutenant.”

The tactical officer nodded in return and watched the Denobulan exit the room. “Well, that went better than I expected,” he said to Hoshi quietly. She didn’t respond, of course, but he carried on talking anyway, keeping his voice low and soothing. 

“Have I ever told you how brave you are, Hoshi? Well, you are. I know you were apprehensive when you came on board, and jumped at every sound. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously enough when you were continually startled at the deflector sequencing. I didn’t really think about how sensitive your ears are and how much you can hear. But Trip can hear when the engine’s not running properly, even when he’s not in engineering, so I finally figured out that you’re sensitive enough to hear every movement or hum or thump of the ship itself, depending on where you are.” 

Malcolm sighed and leaned back against the locker again, stroking her hair gently. She shifted a little, and her hand spasmed where her arm lay across his legs. He took it in his other hand, careful not to wake her, and rubbed his thumb across the back to soothe her. She settled again, sighing, and he resumed rubbing her back.

“You really impressed me when you helped those dilithium miners with their shooting, Hoshi. I remember how you struggled at first with your own phase pistol training, but you never gave up. You wanted to be able to look after yourself and our crewmates. You weren’t doing it for anyone but yourself. I could see your confidence growing with every session, and when you started combat training it got even better.”

He paused, smiling fondly as he stroked his thumb across her hand. “Such little hands that pack such a punch. You’re the definition of dynamite in small packages, Hoshi. You look so demure and innocent, but I remember how you used to spar verbally with T’Pol right at the start. Everyone would think you were so timid and then you’d let loose with a tirade that let us know how you felt in no uncertain terms. Regulations never really seemed to bother you. They still don't.”

With a low chuckle, he carried on talking, using her name again to try and get the message into her sleeping brain. “You put me on the floor a couple of times when I was least expecting it, Hoshi. I should know better than to underestimate anyone because of their size. After all I use my own size to my advantage against bigger opponents.” 

“And you have a sharp mind, a mind that just won’t quit. Have I ever told you how much I enjoy our verbal jousts? Especially when you talk to me in French or German or Malay or Gaelic—I have to stay on top of my language game just to keep up with you. I can barely think in four other languages, but you do it in fifty, and learn new ones every few weeks.

“I know you hate it when people say you have a gift, Hoshi. Well, I see how hard you work at it, and I have to say it’s a skill. You may have a talent for learning new languages and thinking in them, but you really, truly work at it. I don’t understand how you do what you do, but you’ve pulled our fat out of the fire on so many occasions. I might be the one tasked with keeping us safe, but you’re the one who has to try and make sure that that initial contact goes well enough that my skills don’t have to come into play.”

Once again he paused, simply rubbing her back and hand quietly. 

“I don’t know how much you’re hearing of this, Hoshi. I don’t know how much your subconscious is taking in. But I hope you’re getting the message loud and clear that you’re a fascinating, incredible, mesmerising woman, and a competent and skilled Starfleet officer. Do you know how much your crewmates admire you? More than you probably think. You’ve saved us so many times, even when you didn’t think you could do it. You’ve pushed yourself even when you were afraid. I remember that ship we found right at the start of our journey. I could see the tears in your eyes and I could hear your voice shaking, but you managed to speak a language you’d never heard before and get help. Don’t ever think poorly of yourself. That’s an order.” 

He chuckled to himself once more. “I’ve been carrying on like a lovestruck teenager, haven’t I? Extolling your virtues, placing you on a pedestal. I know you don’t necessarily like that, but I’d stand and gaze up at you every day if that’s where you were. You like to be in the thick of things, though, so truthfully, I’d rather be shoulder to shoulder with you, knowing I can rely on you and making sure you can rely on me. You’ve shown so much courage over these four years, and it’s been invigorating watching you become one of the most vital, trusted members of the crew.

“And personally —well, you’re my friend, Hoshi. My very good friend, one of my best friends, in fact. I’ve told you things I haven’t even told Trip, and you’ve kept some of my secrets. I hope I’m giving you what you give me, being a confidant. I wish—” He hesitated, then sucked in a breath and continued. “I wish I had the courage to tell you how I feel. Maybe you already know. Maybe you’ve picked it up through my body language; you know when I’m trying to be evasive and you’ve called me out on my bullshit before. I hope you already know that I love you beyond just the way I love Trip and Travis and the others. I need you in my life.”

His voice grew determined. “When this is over, I’m going to tell you how I feel. I’m going to man up and show some of the courage you expect of me. I hope it doesn’t scare you off; but you don’t scare easily anymore. You’re so important to me. I want you to know. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Chapter Text

In a room a little way down the corridor, Jhamel’s antennae twitched uncertainly and then went rigid. The young Aenar woman stood in front of the viewing port, seemingly staring out into space. Her hands were at her sides, but instead of their usual calm stillness, her fingers kept twitching and curling into the palms of her hands. 

She felt unsettled. There had been a darkness, a shadow, on the mind of the human female. A darkness that Jhamel had felt aboard the ship when she first arrived, but had set aside in the race to find and save her brother. Only when dear Gareb had died saving them had her mind been freed of the desperate need to find him and, striving to overcome his loss by searching for another focus, had it touched again on the foulness beleaguering the young woman.

Jhamel was bound by her vows and traditions not to touch the mind of another; but it had not been of her own doing that she had felt the darkness. Its malevolence didn’t call out, but did not hide, either. She had searched for it carefully, avoiding untouched minds, until she had tracked it down, and had had Shran take her to the source. When the woman—Hoshi Sato, she was called—had opened her mind to Jhamel, the Aenar had not been shocked by the darkness she found feeding off the human, but was still not entirely prepared for its malevolence. 

She was a pacifist by nature and upbringing; but she had worked in defence of the other woman, setting up walls, pushing out the hatred, clearing the tangles that spread through Hoshi’s mind. She was not done yet, but the effort had exhausted her; had exhausted them both. The malevolence was still there, wanting to get in, and it probably would, if the walls were not reinforced; but for now Hoshi should be able to rest and recuperate. 

Jhamel herself wanted—needed—to rest and prepare for the ordeal ahead; but the malevolence had noticed her, of course it had, and she had needed to put up her own defences to keep it from her mind. It appeared that she, like Hoshi, shared the trait that would allow the alien to enter their minds; but unlike Hoshi, Jhamel was a strong and adept telepath, well able to discern when someone was in her mind who shouldn’t be, and to protect and keep her memories and thoughts to herself.

Still, it was draining, coming immediately after the setting of defences in Hoshi’s mind, but she could not rest until the protection was in place. She stood in front of the viewing port, a tiny frown between her brows, her antennae now standing straight up and rigid, her hands clenching and unclenching as she determinedly set up her own walls, her own dome, keeping out every filament of the darkness. Hiding—or deliberately not thinking of—the plan she had to vanquish the alien once and for all. 

Behind her was a comforting presence, a strong, stalwart, solid coolness. Shran. He didn’t touch her, but his closeness was a lifeline. He was there, ready to defend her, and that was all that mattered. Even though he could not defend her physically, his fierce inner fire burned hot; his mind was ever-present at the edges of hers, although he did not know it. Telepathy was not his strong suit. He was a warrior, his incisiveness and determination honed through decades of discipline. His mind was sharp, a blade ready to slice through anyone who dared attempt to harm those under his protection. 

She would need that fierceness, that sharpness, soon enough. She was not a warrior, had never been trained to fight, could not bring herself to do so in any event. But she was not foolish. This weapon was here, waiting to be used; had been put at her disposal; and though she could not wield it herself, she would direct it if need be.

Hoshi had a similar weapon, though she did not know it, or at least did not think of it that way. Her protector was another warrior, another fiercely disciplined, fiercely protective presence. His concern had reached out as Jhamel had touched Hoshi’s mind, and she could scarcely prevent herself from seeing what burned in his own.  Single-minded devotion, the desire to shield, the need to hold and comfort and protect. The readiness to stand guard and to go to war in Hoshi’s defence. If he but could have, he would have been a ward for her all on his own, a bright flame to encircle her mind and keep all attackers at bay. 

Hoshi would need that flame; it was up to Jhamel to link them when the time was right. 

But for now, the final chink in her own walls had been shored up. For now, she could rest. She sighed, her fingers unclenching, her rigid antennae drooping in fatigue. Behind her, Shran moved closer, a silent offer, and she allowed herself to lean against his solidity briefly, taking comfort from his nearness and familiar coolness. 

“Done?” he asked, his usually fierce tones lowered a little in deference to her keen hearing and tired mind. She nodded, unable to speak, and he took that as his cue to step to one side and sweep her up into his arms. “Don’t argue,” he said without preamble, even as she opened her mouth to do just that. “You’re exhausted, and there’s no need for you to try and walk to your bed when I’m ready, willing, and able to take you there myself.”

For just a moment she still wanted to protest, but the desire to protect radiated from him, and she could not deny that it was nice to feel surrounded by that mental warmth, even if he had no idea he was doing it. So she nodded, and allowed herself to relax against him, her antennae curling slightly. Satisfied, Shran turned and carried her to the bunk, ready to lay her down. 

His skin was cool against hers, where her face rested against his neck, and she welcomed it in the heat of the human ship. So she reached out and laid her hands on his, where his arms curved up from under her knees and around her waist. About to bend forward, he stood still instead, allowing her to draw his coolness to her skin, feeling the coolness of her own gentle touch against his. There was no need to speak; if nothing else, both Aenar and Andorian struggled a little in the human heat, and recognised the need for that grounding familiarity in each other’s temperature. 

So they were standing, drawing comfort from each other, when the door chimed.

Chapter Text

Many light years away, Tarquin raged at being locked out of both minds that held the tantalising promise of companionship. He had agreed to leave Hoshi’s mind a year ago after she threatened to destroy his enhancer unless he freed her ship and everyone on it.

Still, he’d slipped into her head every now and then while they were in the Expanse, with her all unknowing, ostensibly to see whether she was safe. He told himself it was a means of preserving her memories in case she and her ship were destroyed while on their mission. He wouldn’t acknowledge, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, that his actions allowed him to get a further taste of a mind other than his own; a mind he had already touched several times before.

He was never there for very long, lest she realise. Even her pain while under Xindi control was intoxicating. But Enterprise had made it out of the Expanse, and back to Earth. Her mind had been healed. And he’d seen the growing interest she had in that infernal Reed, though she would not admit it even to herself.

She was less alone, now. Less isolated. Less susceptible. She spent the majority of her time with her fellow bridge crew - including Reed - and the doctor whose likeness he had once used, as well as friends from other departments. And with the greater distance, there were fewer opportunities for Tarquin to slip into her head. Not that he did so frequently, perhaps a taste every few weeks or so, but as of late he hadn’t even had the opportunity to do that.

Hoshi hadn’t specifically put up walls to keep him out, but her thoughts about him were becoming ever less charitable as time went on. Perhaps she suspected that he was visiting her - “intrusion” was such an ugly word, after all.

It was clearly the fault of that Reed character, who was hardly as disinterested in her as he affected to be - even someone halfway across the galaxy was able to see that, Tarquin thought resentfully. And Hoshi - his companion - was falling for it, if her thoughts were anything to go by.

She’d been concerned when Reed and the chief engineer, Tucker, had gone aboard the unknown ship and vanished. Although she had work to do - work on which she should have focused, he felt - she had worried about the security officer and her engineer friend. As though they mattered! Minds like theirs were a dime a dozen. No, much rarer and more intriguing were minds like her own, like his; minds that offered a singular appeal, that could connect over thousands of light years; minds that could blossom under the attention of another with similar talents.

He had to make Hoshi return so he could teach her the pleasures of experiencing another’s mind. She’d had no right to leave, to take herself elsewhere, to escape, as she put it. Escape what? The attentions of a man with a mind as singular as her own? The chance to live a life longer than usual, to share a bond greater than any other human could understand?

How could she, in good conscience, as an explorer, an empath, have left him alone like this? No companion, not even any company; completely isolated, with only his enhancer to try and seek out compatible minds. Surely the rules of common decency should have dictated that she stayed to keep him company, or at the very least returned once their mission was up, perhaps to help him find a suitable companion if she did not wish to be that.

For she didn’t, and he could accept that, he thought magnanimously. He could see that she wanted to be with someone simple like the closed-minded Reed, whose mind was so similar to what she’d been raised around.

Ah, but the opportunities she was missing. Deliberately missing, at that. It was not to be borne.

And then, another singular mind had come aboard the ship. The Aenar, Jhamel. What a feast lay ahead! Two minds to consider, to consume, to experience! And the Aenar’s would be sweet indeed, such a different mind from Hoshi’s, her experiences and knowledge completely alien to human understanding. He had reached out and delicately begun to make his way into that untapped mind.

But then - disaster. Even as he began his attempt, the Aenar felt his intrusion - no, his delicate probing! - and turned on him, shutting him out, setting up walls, blocking him. Even worse, she had reached into Hoshi’s mind and pushed him out, casting him aside like so much chaff. Interrupting him while he was looking into the night Hoshi had spent with Reed! It was not to be borne.

Furious, he had visited Hoshi while she was in the bathroom - more’s the pity that he had missed her getting out of the shower, but that didn’t matter, there would be ample time to explore those opportunities when she was at his side, where she belonged. No, more important was that she was cheating on him with that damnable security officer! She was his, damn it, his companion and no one else’s!

She would have to be taught a lesson. They both would.

Chapter Text

Immediately after Trip had left Malcolm’s quarters and called Phlox, he’d gone in search of T’Pol, finding her in the command centre.

“You should get some rest.”

T’Pol’s eyebrow rose. “There is no need.”

“Dammit, T’Pol, it sounded like Jhamel needs you at your best. You can’t do that if you haven’t rested.

“I meditated through the night. I am fully rested and equal to any task required of me.”

Trip opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again with a shake of his head. Once T’Pol had made up her mind, there was no way for him to change it. She was stubborn as a mule that way - not that he knew anything about mules in general, aside from the animals they’d seen on the Skagaaran planet - but T’Pol was a whole heck of a lot better-looking.

The comms panel on the wall of the command centre beeped. “Shran to Tucker.”

“Tucker here.”

“Jhamel would like to see you and the Vulcan—” a pause “—your Vulcan first officer in our quarters.”

Trip rolled his eye at T’Pol, who inclined her head the barest degree. “We’re on our way.”

They didn’t speak on their way to the quarters assigned to Shran and Jhamel, not far from Malcolm’s. Trip rang the door chime and at the sound of Shran’s voice from inside, it slid open. He gestured for T’Pol to precede him.

The short Andorian was less composed than an hour before. Though not as belligerent as usual, his antennae were rigid with displeasure. For her part, T’Pol remained calm and silent, taking in the look on his face before allowing her gaze to slide past him to the Aenar at the window.

“What kin we do for ya?” Trip leaned into his accent; by the look on Shran’s face, he was ready to tear a strip off T’Pol, and the engineer wanted to prevent that if at all possible. If playing the ‘good ole boy’ would distract the man with irritation, Trip would do what he must.

“Jhamel has something to request of the Vulcan.” This time Shran made no effort to correct his wording.

“It is something I would request of both you and she,” came a quiet voice from the window, and Shran’s entire demeanour changed, his antennae relaxing, almost drooping.

“How may we help?” T’Pol’s voice was cool and dispassionate. Shran frowned, seemingly about to take offence again, but Jhamel came forward and interrupted before he could speak.

“The telepresence device. I have need of it, but in a somewhat different form.”

Trip was intrigued. “Different how?”

“If Commander T’Pol agrees, there will need to be six of us attached to the device.”

“That’s not going to be easy in sickbay. There’s not that much room.”

“I thought of a possible remote version. Especially since we will need to be inside Ensign Sato’s quarters, since that is where he seems to manifest most strongly.”

The chief engineer pulled at his lip thoughtfully. “Remote, eh? So technically all you need the telepresence device for is to, what? Strengthen your signal?”

Jhamel inclined her head. “That is correct. Ensign Sato and I will concentrate on building walls and evicting him from our minds.” She paused, sensing Shran’s scrutiny. “I do not wish to say his name as it may well focus his attention on me again, and I will have a hard enough time keeping him at bay after this discussion.”

One of T’Pol’s eyebrows lifted infinitesimally. “And what role do you wish me to play? He cannot enter or take over my mind.”

“That is precisely why we need you, Commander. While the ensign and I have minds that allow him access—no doubt why he wants us as his ‘companions’—yours is tightly controlled and inaccessible to him.”

“That makes sense,” Trip said thoughtfully. He felt T’Pol’s gaze, and turned to her. “Remember the wisps? They couldn’t take over your mind, either.”

“I have not forgotten, Commander. And I see your point.”

“Your mind could be seen as the barrier, through which we can carry out what we need to do, while withdrawing from his attacks.” Jhamel paused. “For I have no doubt that he will attack, and not only our minds, but the ship as a whole. He tried to kill all of you before, to keep Ensign Sato with him, and I cannot keep him from attacking the physical ship itself.”

“You wish me to shield the entire ship? I do not know if I have the capacity to do so.”

“That is why each of us must have someone we trust, who will give us the psychic strength we need to boost our abilities.”

That Vulcan eyebrow rose once more. “Commander Tucker does not have psychic abilities. Neither does Lieutenant Reed. I do not know enough about Commander Shran to know, but I would assume not, as he is Andorian, not Aenar.”

Jhamel smiled gently and forbore from commenting on T’Pol’s instinctive assumption that Trip would be her partner; the chief engineer also seemed not to have noticed, or taken it amiss if he had.

“They do not require psychic abilities. They merely need to be willing to provide us with their support and strength.” She ‘looked’ at Trip, and he nodded.

“I’ll do anythin' I have to, if it’ll help keep all of you—and the ship—safe.” His blue eyes fastened on T’Pol; if she was aware of his regard, she didn’t show it; though Jhamel’s gaze softened somewhat.

“I will stand by Jhamel.” Shran’s voice was clear, his antennae stalwart but not rigid. “And I believe the lieutenant will stand by your Ensign Sato.”

“You’ve got that right.” Trip grinned. “Malcolm'd fight off any threat to Hoshi if he could. He knows she’s capable, but he’s not a protector for nothing.”

Jhamel smiled and T’Pol’s eyebrow lowered to its normal state. “I believe you are correct, Commander. Lieutenant Reed will do whatever he must to keep Ensign Sato—and the crew—safe, even if it requires a method of defence he has never yet experienced.”

“Very well, then.” Jhamel gestured to Shran, and he pulled out a PADD, offering it to Trip.

“These are plans Jhamel described to me. They might help with the modifications needed. But I am no engineer, and my engineer, Karveth, is in sickbay, recovering from the attack on the Kumari. I do not think he is conscious, in any event.”

Trip was studying the notes on the PADD. “It’s okay. I think I get the gist. If I need any translatin' I’ll call you, or Crewman Baird from Communications. Hoshi's still asleep.” He looked at Jhamel. “We’ll let you get some rest, too. From what you’ve said, you’ll need it.”

The Aenar inclined her head once more. “I thank you. I have some work to do to shield my mind, but you are correct, I must rest before we meet again.” She hesitated. “Will there be enough time to make the modifications?”

“Should be. But you’ll have to use it untested; there won’t be enough time for that.”

“Someone—an engineer—will need to remain near the device to monitor it while we are connected.”

“My second, Lieutenant Hess, and Crewman Kelly. They’ll have a vested interest in Hoshi’s well-being, and they’re at the top of their game. Rostov can run Engineering while we’re all occupied.”

“Very well. Thank you for taking my idea seriously.”

Trip smiled. “Hoshi’s my friend. So’s Malcolm. And you helped save us from that drone ship, usin' the device to contact your brother. We owe you our lives. I’m not gonna overlook that.”

For a moment a pained expression passed over Jhamel’s face at the mention of her brother; then calm settled on her features once more, and she dipped her head in acknowledgement.

T’Pol broke the silence before it could become awkward.

“Let us begin the modifications.”

Chapter Text

Fifteen minutes before the appointed time, Hoshi and Malcolm left his quarters to head for their meeting place with Jhamel and Shran. The ensign was feeling much more herself, refreshed by her long sleep in a safe environment, watched over by her long-time protector.

Unable to move away without causing the sleeping communications officer to grumble and tighten her hold on him - not that he minded in the least - Malcolm had made the best of his situation. He’d lifted his legs onto the bed beside Hoshi and attempted to do some work on his PADD before giving up the notion, putting aside the PADD, and napping while leaning against his locker. If there was going to be some sort of effort to evict Tarquin from Hoshi’s mind once and for all, he wanted to be well-rested to give her as much support as he could.

A little over an hour before they were due to meet the others, Doctor Phlox had arrived once more to check his patient. Accompanying him was a steward pushing a trolley on which rested deep bowls of thick, rich butternut soup with a dollop of Greek yoghurt in each, a basket of warm, soft dinner rolls, and a platter of sliced fruit, including Malcolm’s preferred pineapple. Chef had obviously decided that they needed nourishment, but nothing too heavy.

Having slept for a solid six hours, the scent of the fresh bread had woken Hoshi. A little embarrassed to discover that she’d spent several hours curled over the lap of her senior officer, not letting him move anywhere, she’d rushed into the bathroom to hide for a few minutes. Splashing cool water over her flushed cheeks, she breathed deep to regain her equilibrium before exiting so he could take his turn - in his own bathroom, she thought sheepishly.

The wink and gentle smile Malcolm gave her as they passed did much to calm her nerves, reminding her as it did of his expression when he’d helped her through a panic attack the first time she’d accidentally fallen asleep in his quarters while watching a movie and woken with a shock. In the almost four years since then, they had both had the opportunity to take care of each other under various unusual circumstances.

He wasn’t merely her senior officer, he was her friend; one of her closest friends, in fact. He knew some of her secrets; ones she had shared with him herself, ones she felt confident he would honour and maintain, nothing he had stolen from her head without her consent. So she chastised herself; silly to imagine he would think any less of her for her subconscious stubborn refusal to let go of her comfort security officer when she was asleep, vulnerable, and uncertain.

“How are you feeling, Ensign?” The doctor’s voice startled her out of her introspection; she’d forgotten that he was also in the room and had likely been watching the play of expressions across her face.

“I—” She paused to properly take stock of herself. Her head didn’t feel cramped and tight; her body felt relaxed, even with the slight tension caused by her now-receding nervousness. She glanced up and smiled at the Denobulan. “I feel good, Doctor. I must have really needed that sleep.”

His smile stretched wide. “Not merely the sleep, I imagine. Being under the protection of someone you trust, having had your mind cleared of undue influence - I’m sure all of these have played a role in vastly improving your sense of self.” He ran a scanner over her as he spoke, giving a pleased nod at the results. “Do you remember anything from while you slept?”

Hoshi shook her head. “Not really. I remember Jhamel and Shran from before, and that my head felt clearer. I think I may have spoken to Trip?” Her voice lifted questioningly, and the doctor gave her an encouraging nod. “Otherwise, I don’t think I remember anything specific. Just being warm, and safe. Watched over, but not watched, if that makes sense.”

Doctor Phlox bobbed his head, blue eyes sparkling. “It makes perfect sense, Ensign. You were with Lieutenant Reed, and who better to watch over you than the ship’s protector?” He looked over her shoulder and nodded. “And from what he told me, Jhamel managed to stave off your unwelcome intruder before you were brought here, so Tarquin would not have been able to watch you.”

A quiet throat-clearing came from behind Hoshi, and the tactical officer came to stand beside her, looking a little uncomfortable. The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “You look concerned, Lieutenant. Is anything amiss?”

“I wanted Hoshi—Ensign Sato—to know why she was here, instead of in her own quarters. In case she wondered.” His voice was a little stilted, and Hoshi realised that he was as ill at ease as she had been. Instinctively, she laid her hand on the back of Malcolm’s wrist, wanting to reassure.

Thank the gods she didn’t know what that light touch did to his equilibrium. Somehow he managed to meet her gaze with some composure, at the same time preventing himself from turning over his hand and linking it with hers. But he was certain the way his heart-rate had doubled was showing on the scanner; Phlox was looking at him with some concern. As Hoshi turned her eyes away, he managed to give the doctor a quick shake of the head; thankfully the man was quick on the uptake, if not particularly good at hiding the mischief in his eyes.

Even more thankfully, Hoshi was too focused on putting him at ease than on deciphering the doctor’s gleeful grin. She looked back at Malcolm.

“I imagine the decision to bring me here had to do with me feeling uneasy in my own quarters, and not wanting me to be alone. Especially with Tarquin being in my quarters—in my bathroom!—earlier, and definitely invading my mind again. And especially after our talk last night.” She squeezed his wrist and let go. “Besides, I feel comfortable in this room. We’ve had so many movie or book or games nights here, it’s … familiar territory.”

A quick look from those clear grey eyes, and she was gratified to see his shoulders relax.

“Excellent!” Clearly the doctor had also been watching. “Now that that’s settled, I suggest that you both have something to eat, and then prepare for your meeting.” With that, he withdrew, leaving them to their meal.

Chapter Text

Malcolm’s communicator chirped. With a quizzical look at Hoshi, he retrieved it from his pocket and opened it. “Reed here.”

“Lieutenant. Bring Hoshi to the boardroom. There are some elements we’d like to go through before you begin.”

“Yes, sir. We’re on our way.” Flipping it closed, he gestured to his companion. “After you.”

As they headed to the turbo-lift, Hoshi couldn’t help but stick close to Malcolm’s side. Although she didn’t think Tarquin was back in her head - not yet, at any rate - she didn’t want to be too far away from her personal security officer. He didn’t seem to mind her proximity, even when she bumped into him as they rounded a corner.

Immediately she stopped, blood rushing to her face. Why must you be such a klutz? He’d stopped, too, and was waiting for her, a look of polite enquiry on his face. “Sorry, sir, I don’t mean to crowd you. I shouldn’t be walking so close.”

That gentle smile crossed his face again. “It’s quite alright, Hoshi. I don’t mind in the slightest. It’s nice that you seem to think of me as a shield, anyway.” He extended a hand to her. “Will it help if I hold your hand?”

For a moment she simply stared, as though his hand might bite; then she reached out tentatively and took hold. His hand was warm, dry, and firm, slightly rough to the touch; the hand of a competent security officer. At once she felt calmer. “It does. Thank you, Malcolm.”

He grinned. “Come on then. We’d better get to the boardroom.” With a small tug, he started off again. She fell into step beside him, holding his hand tightly, able to keep some physical distance because of it; though she didn’t go far.

Within moments they were outside the boardroom, having ignored anyone who looked at them strangely as they hurried through the corridors. Hoshi clung to Malcolm’s hand, unwilling to let go even though they would be facing their superiors. He let her, squeezing reassuringly as the door slid open and they entered.

The captain's eyes dropped to where Hoshi held the tactical officer’s hand and he frowned, even as Malcolm met his gaze levelly; Hoshi was once again staring at the table, seemingly lost in thought. Trip and T’Pol stood near the view port on the other side of the table, Archer at its head, Phlox at its foot, and Jhamel and Shran stood near Hoshi and Malcolm, clearly having arrived moments before.

As Archer opened his mouth to say something, Jhamel stepped forward. “I am glad to note that you have already begun the process of physical contact,” she said quietly. “It will be necessary through what is to come.”

Hoshi’s cheeks warmed as she looked at the Aenar, though she didn’t let go of Malcolm. “I needed my—my shield.” She faltered a little, realising that everyone was staring at her, and felt Malcolm give her another small squeeze. Darting a grateful glance at him, she straightened. “I’m starting to feel pressure building in my head again. Nothing too severe, but I know he’s trying to get in again.”

“All the more reason to get to your quarters quickly and begin. If I may explain, captain?” This last was directed at the increasingly restless Archer, who nodded. “Commander T’Pol, Ensign Sato and I will gather within her quarters, using the equipment Commander Tucker has provided. As we enter a meditative state, we will need assistance from him, Lieutenant Reed, and Shran.”

“What sort of assistance do you require, ma’am?” Although Malcolm's voice was steady, his curiosity was evident. “Anything I can provide, I will, of course; but what is the nature of the need?”

Jhamel smiled. “Simply keep doing what you are doing, Lieutenant; keep holding her hand. She needs your calm and your strength, and your fierceness. You are her protector.”

He frowned a little at that, glancing at Hoshi as she eyed Jhamel pensively. “She’s already strong and fierce. And extremely determined. She protected the ship against him, not me.” Pride radiated through his voice; Jhamel wondered if he even realised it.

Before she could respond, Shran cut in. “They are all three strong and competent, in their own ways. But from what I understand, they will still need bolstering. That is where we come in.” His eyes met Malcolm’s, then Trip’s. “Even a strong shield needs a power source.”

Trip nodded before shifting his gaze to Malcolm. “Makes sense. We’re the batteries. I can do that, if T’Pol needs me. I know you’ll do it for Hoshi, and Shran for sure will do it for Jhamel.”

“I’m the captain. I should do it.” Archer’s voice was aggrieved, and once again, Malcolm wondered at it. “I persuaded Hoshi to join the ship and brought her into harm’s way. I let her stay on that planet with him. It should be me.”

Hoshi drew in a breath, as though she was about to speak; but instead, she brought her other hand across where she was holding Malcolm’s, saying more with that gesture than words alone could convey. Archer’s brows drew together, and Hoshi unconsciously leaned closer to Malcolm.

“Forgive me, Captain, but I believe that while Ensign Sato considers you a friend, she does not view you in the same light as Lieutenant Reed. As I recall, in our meeting this morning, she referred to him as her personal security officer.” Hoshi’s cheeks flamed, but she simply gripped Malcolm’s hand more tightly. T’Pol inclined her head infinitesimally. “Lieutenant Reed is the ship’s protector, and a close friend of the ensign’s. Rank plays no role in what is to come; emotional bonds do.”

Archer’s frown deepened, even as the ensign and lieutenant looked wonderingly at T’Pol. She paused, perhaps struck by those wide-eyed gazes and the annoyance radiating from the captain.

“I will say that for a task such as this, Captain, your long acquaintance with Ensign Sato holds less weight than her strong friendship with Mr. Reed. You are her captain, thus necessarily at a remove, even within the bounds of friendship; he is not only a trusted colleague of similar age and nearer in rank, but a close friend—someone with whom she spends time off-duty, having meals, sharing conversations and mutual support. To be blunt, there is no comparison between her captain, and the person with whom she feels safest.”

Trip hid a smile; judging by their expressions, both Hoshi and Malcolm were gobsmacked that their closeness had been observable to such an extent, especially by their first officer. Glancing at the captain, however, he saw annoyance on Archer’s face. A wave of some irritation rose within him; why would the man not listen to what was being said? Was it ego? Then he took a closer look; although Archer was projecting vexation, Trip had known him long enough to see that his jaw wasn’t set in the particular way that said he was angry. Could he be faking it?

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “It appears I may have caused some discomfort, and for that I apologise. However, given the seriousness of the situation, I cannot do other than urge that Ensign Sato’s mental and emotional security be the most important factor to be considered, not seniority of whomever provides her physical and mental support.”

“That is correct,” Jhamel agreed. “We will all three need to focus intently and trust absolutely. Ensign Sato in particular cannot afford to be distracted and have her mind search subconsciously for her shield, when she needs to be safe-guarding her thoughts. Besides, when the telepath’s mind touched mine and I was able to gather some impressions, he was particularly resentful of Lieutenant Reed’s strong friendship with Ensign Sato. If that will keep him off-balance during our ordeal, we will need every benefit we can get.”

“Ordeal?” Archer sounded less irked now; his ire seemed to be subsiding. At the other end of the table, Phlox was looking at him speculatively.

Jhamel drew herself up and met Archer’s gaze directly, blind eyes or not. “What would you call it, Captain, when a strong, centuries-old mind attempts to not only breach the defences of another’s, but to completely subsume it for his own personal enrichment? We are about to enter a battle for our very sanity. As those most susceptible to the telepath, the ensign and I will both need our warriors at our sides. Commander T’Pol will act as our first line of defence, shored up by Commander Tucker. I make no apologies for insisting that Lieutenant Reed is the right person to support Ensign Sato, and that despite your best intentions, you will be a hindrance and not a help.”

Hoshi drew another audible breath, and this time she spoke. “I don’t wish to insult you, Captain, but T’Pol and Jhamel are right. You may be my friend, but you’re an authority figure. I’ve known you since I was a teen; you’re like a father to me. Right now I don’t need to feel like a little girl who’s done something wrong; I’ll already be fighting against someone treating me like I don’t know my own self.”

She stood straighter. “Lieutenant Reed has always done his best to keep me safe, even at the risk of his own life. He’s taught me to defend myself, and to trust in my own competence. I know I can turn to him in any situation.” Out of the corner of her eye, Hoshi could see Malcolm gazing at her, seemingly stunned by her praise. She pushed on. “I’m going to rely on the person who already keeps my body and mind safe to the best of his abilities. I’m sorry if that is not your wish, but it’s mine.”

“Hoshi, as your superior—” It seemed to be Captain Archer’s day to be interrupted.

“Sir.” This time Hoshi’s voice was firm and unyielding. “If we are to discuss who has always kept the safety and sanctity of my mind at heart, there is no better reminder than Degra’s ship.” Archer’s eyes widened and Hoshi felt Malcolm's hand tighten on hers. “This is my sanity at stake once again, Captain. I refuse to be pushed into a situation that could very well place me at risk simply to satisfy the demands of rank. Place me on report if you must, but I will not have anyone other than Lieutenant Reed be my shield in a situation where I’m in danger of losing my mind and sense of self.”

The captain and Hoshi stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Archer nodded, his eyes flicking from Hoshi to Malcolm and back again, as though something had occurred to him.

“Very well, Ensign.” His voice was thoughtful, ruminative. “The decision is yours.”

She nodded back. “Thank you, sir.” Looking at Jhamel, she drew a deep breath. “Shall we?”

As the rest filed out, Phlox came to stand by the captain.

“Before the others arrived, you seemed quite clear that Lieutenant Reed should accompany Ensign Sato. Certainly something has changed, but what?”

Archer offered a tired smile, his shoulders drooping.

“Those two have been dancing around each other for years. I couldn’t do anything because of the fraternisation rules, but I’ve been given some leeway since our time in the Expanse. Still, it’s not the best move as a captain to intervene in the relationship of subordinates, even if there isn’t a romantic relationship—yet.” He moved his shoulders at Phlox’s expression of dawning comprehension.

“They’re going into a fight on uncharted terrain, for Hoshi’s sanity and probably the lives of those on the ship. She can’t afford to be tentative and nervous around Malcolm, and I know damned well neither of them would declare their feelings now anyway. So my best bet was to goad them—especially Hoshi—into acknowledging their emotional bond. As though I had no idea.”

He shook his head. “The only reason Hoshi didn't immediately pick up that I was playing a role is because her mind's otherwise occupied—which just further illustrates the need for her to have someone she can trust at her side. And if bringing them closer comes at the expense of my ego, it’s a small price to pay to have them even more determined to rely on each other.”

The doctor looked thoughtful. “I believe you’ve accomplished what you wanted, Captain. They seemed determined to do what needs to be done, each with the other’s help. Unfortunately, you’ve also accomplished the less desirable result; your reputation may have been harmed, at least with them.”

Archer shrugged. “As long as bringing them together helps them in this battle, and hopefully afterward, too.” He paused. “I hope I don’t have to warn against any of this coming to their ears?”

“Certainly not!” The Denobulan seemed almost affronted.

Captain Archer smiled. “Then let’s go and see if they’re ready to kick some telepath butt.”

Chapter Text

The little group inside the turbo-lift was quiet as they dropped to C-Deck, where Hoshi’s quarters were situated. She keyed in the code and entered, still holding Malcolm’s hand, then paused uncertainly as they entered the main part of the room, seeing elements that hadn’t been there before.

Three mats - each big enough for two occupants sitting closely together - had been arranged in a wide triangle. In front of each mat was a device that appeared like nothing as much as a wide headband with two metal earpieces.

“We used the captain’s override code to enter your quarters and prepare, Ensign.” T’Pol’s voice was as serene as ever, calmly reassuring. “Nothing else was moved, or even touched. The mats are new from the quartermaster, and the devices were provided by Commander Tucker.”

“Oh.” Hoshi sounded nonplussed. “I suppose we sit in twos?”

Jhamel, who had entered behind T’Pol, nodded. “That would be ideal,” she confirmed. “Do not put on the devices until we are all seated and ready.”

“Do we have to sit in a particular order?” Pragmatic as ever, Malcolm was eyeing the mats as though deciding where he’d be least likely to face an attack from the rear.

“Not particularly, though I would ask that you, Shran, and Commander Tucker sit to our left; I believe we are all right-handed.”

“I’m ambidextrous, but in the interests of leaving your right hands free, I’m happy to sit where needed.”

Hoshi looked at him from the corner of her eye; then, lips quirking just a little, she tugged him forward so that as they sat, they had her bed behind them as a bastion. Malcolm gave her a grateful smile; she’d remembered that he felt vulnerable with his back to an open room.

Shran huffed a little, then arranged himself and Jhamel to the left of Malcolm, so that he had the desk at his back. The small circle was completed with T’Pol and Trip facing the window, the wall at their backs but not close enough to make a difference.

The door chime rang. Hoshi looked puzzled, but called to the visitor to enter. The door slid aside, and Phlox entered the room, along with Captain Archer. The latter’s eyes met hers, and he smiled encouragingly; gone was the censure and paternalism. His gaze shifted to Malcolm, and he gave the tactical officer a reassuring nod, which Malcolm returned somewhat tentatively.

“Doctor Phlox will remain here to monitor all of you,” the captain said. “I’ll be up on the bridge, monitoring. I don’t know if we’ll be able to move fast enough to get you out of range—or further into range, as the case may be—but Travis will do his best either way.”

“Yes, sir.” Hoshi and Malcolm spoke in unison, both nodding at the captain.

Archer turned toward the door, then hesitated and turned back. “Hoshi.” His eyes met hers as he spoke earnestly. “Remember that you belong here. This ship, this crew—we’d never have made it this far without you. Don’t let him take that away from you.” His gaze shifted to Malcolm. “We’re relying on you to protect Hoshi, Malcolm.”

The tactical officer looked at Hoshi before nodding at the captain. “I think she’ll be the one protecting us, Captain, but I’ll be right here if Hoshi needs me.”

Archer smiled and glanced around the room. “Good luck to all of you.” And he was gone. For a moment there was silence as Phlox ran his scanner over everyone.

Malcolm broke the silence. “Would you prefer us holding your hands, or the back of your necks?” He shifted a little uncomfortably as all gazes turned to him, clarifying hastily, “Just in case you need both your hands.” 

"I'm happy with the back of my neck," said Hoshi. "I don't know exactly what will be happening, but I feel like I'll need both hands free." Malcolm nodded, looking relieved.

"It should work through clothing, too, right?" That was Trip. "T'Pol's a touch telepath. If I touch her skin, it may distract her too much."

T'Pol gave a small nod. "Commander Tucker is correct. While I would normally be able to ignore distractions, under the current circumstances his concern for Ensign Sato and the safety of the ship may affect my focus on shielding the ship."

Jhamel looked thoughtful. “Holding hands should suffice for skin contact, the back of the neck if you wish to leave both hands free. You should still be able to provide Commander T'Pol with sufficient power through her clothing, particularly since she's a touch telepath.” Malcolm and Trip made sounds of assent, and Jhamel addressed the room at large. “Commander, are you ready to prepare yourself as bulwark?”

“I am.” T’Pol’s face betrayed nothing. She reached forward and picked up the device; Trip picked up his at the same time.

“Ensign Sato—you will likely be thrown right into the predator’s den. Be prepared. I will do my best to be right beside you when we switch. Are you ready?”

Hoshi swallowed hard; Malcolm squeezed her hand one last time before letting go. His lips quirked, eyes crinkling at her reassuringly; she smiled wanly in return, and picked up her device at the same time as he did the one in front of him.

“Ready.” Despite her apprehension, her voice was steady and determined. Jhamel sent an encouraging nod her way, picking up her own device while Shran did the same.

“Commander Tucker?”

Trip reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a small control pad. “Place the headbands horizontally over your heads so the headpieces rest over your temples and the bands go over the back. I added small serrated strips on the inside to help grip your hair without breaking it and so the bands will stay in place—especially for those of us with short hair.” He looked at Jhamel. “I hope it works for you and Shran - I didn’t really have time to make them adjustable and I believe Aenar and Andorian hair is very different from human and Vulcan.”

“It is,” she confirmed, “but that should not be an issue. In my case, at least, my braid should provide a suitable perch, as should Ensign Sato’s gathered hair.”

“Ponytail,” supplied Trip. At Jhamel’s puzzled look, he opened his mouth to explain, but a glance from T’Pol stopped him. “Never mind. It’s not important. You can all go ahead and set your headbands now.”

“What will these do?” Hoshi asked, as she fiddled with the band, getting the soft pads adjusted directly over her temples. Beside her, Malcolm was doing the same. T’Pol already had hers in place, her wrists resting on her knees, palms up; Jhamel and Shran were both almost ready.

“They’ll amplify your thoughts and telepathy, and bring you all together. Well, that’s the plan, at any rate.” Trip slid his headband into place, pushing down the back as the serrated teeth gripped his short hair. “And, coupled with skin contact, they should send what power you need directly from us to you.”

Having settled his headband to his liking, Malcolm placed his hand on Hoshi’s spine. Instead of startling as he might have expected, she simply turned to smile at him over her shoulder. “Thanks for doing this, Malcolm.”

“Whatever you need, Hoshi.” He kept his voice low, but saw Trip’s swiftly-hidden grin from the corner of his eye. With an internal sigh, he slid his hand up to rest cool fingers around the back of Hoshi’s neck, bending his leg behind her back to allow his elbow to rest on his knee. He was under no illusions that this would be a quick matter, and knew his arm would get tired long before the end if he didn’t give it any support.

Beside them, Shran was doing the same for Jhamel, their antennae twitching toward each other almost as though communicating. He sat close beside her, his other hand resting on his left knee, upright like a good soldier.

Trip placed his hand against the small of T’Pol’s back, and Jhamel reached out across Malcolm to take Hoshi's left hand, clasping it firmly.

“One more scan,” said Phlox, from his position near the door. After a moment, he nodded, looking at his scanner. “All well within reasonable limits.. He turned to Jhamel. “When will I know if it is safe to pull Hoshi out of the scenario?”

“It will not be, Doctor,” said the Aenar quietly. “None of us should be woken, or made to wake before our minds have released us.” He opened his mouth to retort, and she interrupted. “You would cause irreparable damage to the neo-cortex if awakened too soon.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, and she nodded sightlessly in Trip’s direction.

Opening his communicator, Trip called Hess in Sickbay.

“All set here, sir. Crewman Kelly and I are monitoring.”

“Good. I’ll keep the line open. Patch our comms and yours through to the bridge.” At the sound of Crewman Baird responding from the bridge, Trip laid down the communicator and looked around the circle. “Ready?” At everyone’s affirmative, he pressed the remote button.

In Sickbay, the telepresence device hummed to life under the watchful gazes of Anna Hess and Janelle Kelly. They shared a quick look, each knowing the other was worrying about Hoshi; then their attention returned to the device’s monitoring systems.

On the bridge, Archer listened closely as the room went silent aside from some small sounds, before Doctor Phlox spoke clearly: “All patients are connected to the device, and neural activity is nominal. Continuing observation.”

In Hoshi’s quarters, she gasped and stiffened under Malcolm’s hand. She was back inside Tarquin’s castle, in the same corridor where she’d landed the first time he’d ‘brought’ her here.

But this time, cool fingers intertwined with her own.

Jhamel was here.

Chapter Text

Jhamel opened her eyes. She could see; not her usual way of ‘seeing’ with her telepathic sight, but actually seeing, overlaying her usual vision. This must be Hoshi’s view, she realised. She was in a long hallway lined with high double doors and a thick, intricately-woven rug underfoot. A path had been worn down the middle of the rug, clear indication that this was a route used frequently over many years.

Fingers tightened briefly on her own; Hoshi was beside her. Through their contact, she could sense the human’s apprehension at what was to come, facing an opponent who had had more than a year to delve through her mind, her thoughts, her memories, unseen and unnoticed. The sense of violation made Jhamel shiver.

But apprehension was not Hoshi’s only, or even overriding, emotion. A fierce anger burned, resentment at her privacy - her sense of self - being violated; determination to be freed; the resolve that this would not happen to anyone else. She was readying herself for battle. Though Jhamel could not bring herself to fight, as such, she would offer Hoshi what protection and support she could.

At her back was another presence; fierce, sharp, watchful, protective. Shran made himself felt with the gentlest movement of his fingers on her skin, back on Enterprise. She bowed her head gratefully for a moment, then straightened as Hoshi gripped her hand and moved forward.

The frisson of apprehension that had shivered through Hoshi upon opening her eyes in Tarquin’s castle was still there, but she resolutely pushed it aside, allowing her innate stubbornness to rise. She could not allow her anger to assume immediate control, or it might blind her to danger. And, with T’Pol taking the brunt of the ship’s protection on her shoulders, none of them could afford to rush recklessly into the unknown, especially with a resentful, malicious telepath awaiting them. For she had no doubt that Tarquin realised that she intended to fight, and was ready and waiting.

A gentle pressure at her nape made her lean her head back for a moment. Malcolm was here; an intangible presence behind her, supporting her. She felt his calm, his protectiveness and watchfulness, his readiness to be her shield and her weapon. And more than that; his belief in her abilities, her competence, and her unrelenting will to be free of the malevolence that had been clouding her mind; and, above all, his unshakeable certainty that she would prevail.

She wasn’t sure what to expect. Tarquin had never attacked her mind as such, despite violating her privacy. But he had been able to take the entire ship offline. So it was best to prepare for the worst eventuality; she had resigned herself to taking psychic damage from a mind centuries older than hers, than all of theirs. Even combined, the six of them only just cleared two centuries; Tarquin was far older than that, had had hundreds of years to hone his ability, even as his loneliness and obsession grew. And here, in the playground of the mind, he had the advantage of knowing the terrain.

Or some of it. For he might have romped through her mind and memories at his leisure, but she knew from experience that frequently he didn’t understand - or wish to comprehend - what he was seeing. He still only saw her memories as an outsider; he didn’t live them. And that gave her an advantage, a small levelling of the playing field.

Holding fast to Jhamel, she walked along the corridor until they reached the doors to Tarquin’s study. Glancing at each other, she and Jhamel placed their free hands against the doors and pushed.

Tarquin sat behind his desk, hands on his enhancer. And by the startled look he gave them, Hoshi rather thought he might not have been expecting them to be together.

Good. Let him be pushed off-balance, for a change.

“How are you here?”

“Yours is not the only method of telepathy.” Jhamel’s voice was quiet, but firm and resolute. She would not deliberately seek confrontation, but had no intention of backing down.

Hoshi said nothing, merely looked at Tarquin with narrowed eyes. He stared at her, and she stared back, not giving an inch. Behind her, intangible to Tarquin, Malcolm felt an inordinate pride; when Hoshi dug in her heels, very little could make her deviate from her course.

“Why are you here? To convince me that you’re better off without me?” His expression faltered when she remained silent. Why is she being so difficult? “It’ll do you no good. I can see inside your head, remember. I can see your loneliness.” His voice dropped, becoming more intimate, persuasive. “You never have to be alone again.” Rising from behind the desk, he stepped around it and off the platform on which it was placed.

“She’s not alone.” T’Pol spoke from the doorway. Her presence was a shock to Tarquin; he gaped at her for a moment before gathering his wits.

“What are you—” He looked at Hoshi, visibly disturbed. “How did you bring her here?”

Finally she spoke. “I invited her. I invited Jhamel. I opened my mind to them. They are here by my will and my choice, unlike you, forcing your way in where you’re not wanted.”

For a moment Tarquin hesitated. The venom in her voice! Why will she not see? “It takes an effort of will on your part to have them here. I can be with you at any time, simply by wishing it.”

“You refuse to listen when I say I don’t want you in my mind.”

“Hoshi.” He drew out her name in the way she was coming to hate, and Hoshi’s lips tightened. Oblivious, Tarquin moved toward her. “You forget that I know all about your loneliness. I know so much about your isolation.”

Aboard Enterprise, Malcolm’s fingers rested lightly on Hoshi’s nape, even as his other hand tightened into a fist. This bastard was gloating about invading Hoshi’s memories?

**In the corner of the room, an image appeared; a girl, about ten years old, legs drawn up, sobbing into her knees. “Mama,” she wept. “I’m a good girl. Why have you and Papa sent me away to be alone in this place?”**

Hoshi’s mouth tightened as the vision faded but the sound of the weeping continued.

**The image changed; now a grown Hoshi sat on her bunk, legs drawn up, weeping into her Starfleet uniform. “Why am I even here?” she asked the empty room. “I don't know anyone except the captain. I don’t know what I’m doing!”**

Malcolm’s heart ached for both the child and the woman. He wanted to reach out and gather them both into his arms; but the picture faded.

“You went from being a lonely child, to a lonely woman, even on a ship of your peers.” Tarquin’s voice was resonant with a sorrow that felt sickly-sweet, taking pleasure as it did in the weeping from Hoshi’s memories. Malcolm frowned, and felt Shran’s disgust at the telepath brush along his spine.

Hoshi gave Tarquin a flat look, unimpressed. “It seems you missed what happened afterward; but then I imagine you deliberately ignored it since it doesn’t work in your favour.” Her voice was icy as she gestured to the corner.

**The wavering image resolved into a first-person view of the turbo-lift doors. They slid open, and Malcolm stepped inside. He greeted her with a brief smile and went to stand at her left. For a moment there was silence; then, as the doors closed and the lift began to rise, he spoke.

“I wanted to tell you, Ensign, that I was impressed by your skill and determination yesterday.”
She jolted a little, surprised. “You were, sir? But I almost got us killed.”
“You learned a new language from nothing but text and schematics, and then translated on the fly, helping us not get killed. No one else on this ship could do that. And you did it even though you weren’t sure you could.”
“I—but I—”
“Take the win, Ensign.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “You’ll learn that I’m not easily impressed by things that aren’t weapons upgrades.”
“I—yes, sir. Thank you.”
This time his glance contained a hint of mischief. “Good. I’ll have Doctor Phlox hold off on the summary finger amputations then.”
A giggle burst from her before she could stop it, and as the doors opened, he winked, gesturing for her to precede him.**

The scene faded, and Hoshi gave Tarquin a pitying look. “Come to think of it, you probably wouldn’t understand why that made me feel better and less alone. You see my memories, but are unable to understand them. You prefer to focus on what you consider my weakness, a way for you to be in control, rather than bolster my strengths.”

The telepath couldn’t prevent his glare, but immediately softened his gaze and voice, trying to placate. “Your mind is unique, Hoshi. It shouldn’t be wasted, like Starfleet does. They left you to your teaching in Brazil, only to allow Archer to lure you onto a ship with no mention of the dangers you might face. Although,” his smile turned into a grotesque parody of coquettishness, “I can’t be too upset, since it brought you closer to me. I can help ease your fear. You never have to be alone again.”

“You keep repeating that, but it is not necessarily an incentive.” T’Pol sounded cool and steady. “Humans, like Vulcans, require periods of quiet, introspection, and solitude to ground and centre themselves. Never having that opportunity, not even being able to escape into one’s own mind, is unhealthy, and potentially fatal. Is that what happened to your previous companions?”

Even as Tarquin opened his mouth to respond, Trip seemingly materialised from nowhere, making him jump. “if you’re gonna act like Hoshi’s been afraid for the past four years, more fool you. Tell her she can’t do somethin’, an' she’s determined to prove you wrong. Even when I lost myself in hate while we were in the Expanse, she did her best to help keep up the crew’s spirits. She's got friends on board, a family she helped create. She’s not alone, not the way you’re tryin' to paint it.”

The telepath was taken aback. Where were all these people coming from? Why was Hoshi listening to their small-minded advice instead of his intellect?

“You speak as though Hoshi has no one; you tell yourself that because she has a unique mind that you can invade, she belongs with you. That her crewmates, who have faced joy and sorrow, life and death with her, somehow don’t deserve her—but that you, who have done nothing but invade her mind and try to threaten her ... that you deserve the rest of her life.” Jhamel was composed, despite the censure in her tone. “You refuse to see that some of the best parts of Hoshi involve her kindness, her reaching out, her wonder at experiencing new things, meeting new beings. You’d rather confine her to a single planet, hoard her to yourself, cut her off from everything and everyone she loves, under the guise that you can give her something you’ve convinced yourself she’s missing.”

For a moment Tarquin didn’t respond; then anger glowed in his eyes, and he took a step forward and changed. Now he was a short, slender, dark-haired man with light eyes, only slightly taller than Hoshi herself, and dressed in dark clothing. Malcolm felt rage build inside him; so this was the avatar the alien had used to try and trick Hoshi into feeling safe? This was what he’d used to make her equate himself with Malcolm?

Human-Tarquin stepped closer, his eyes now soft and sympathetic. “They’re jealous, all of them. They want to keep you from experiencing something few others have had. I’m offering you something unique. You never have to fear being alone again.” He raised a hand as though to touch her face.

And Malcolm stepped around her, moving between her and Human-Tarquin. The telepath’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She’d brought Reed here? Hidden him? Dared to allow him to taint the sacred portal of her mind? Reed was staring at him, eye to eye. Challenging him, the upstart that he was!

“You’ve tried to trick Hoshi from the very first moment. You keep talking to her as though she’s weak and alone.” Malcolm’s voice was low, deliberate. “As though she doesn’t know her own mind, and needs you as her saviour. But she’s far from weak, and you ignore her strength and her courage, her brilliance and fierceness, at your peril.”

“You!” Tarquin spat. “I’ve seen you watching her. All you want is to make her think the same way as your small mind. To get her into your bed! To make her cheat on me! She’s my companion!”

Malcolm had moved so that he wasn’t blocking Hoshi, and now he looked between her and Tarquin, raising an eyebrow. “She’s not your anything. You don’t control her. You don’t own her. Hoshi allowed us to join her here because we’re her friends, her family.” He frowned at the telepath. “And she makes the choice about whom she’ll take to bed—it’s not up to me, and certainly not up to you.”

Raging, Tarquin turned toward the desk, changing into his true form and grabbing the enhancer. “If none of you will listen, then all of you will die! Your stupid little ship with its stupid little crew and your stupid little morals—you’ll all die!” He raised a hand, and the room dimmed, even as Hoshi’s quarters went dark.

“No,” said T’Pol, and closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed minutely and her fingers twitched, evidence of the strain she was under. Trip stood close beside her, his hand touching her lower back in the same place as his real-world self.

On Enterprise, all systems shut down, as they had before; but Trip’s engineers had already made contingency plans. Emergency power units kicked in almost immediately, while the one that had been powering the telepresence device to prevent any disruptions continued humming.

“Report!” Archer remained calm, though his heart was in his throat. He had every faith in the team battling the telepath, but the evidence of the man’s power was still enough to cause apprehension and concern.

“The device continues working, Captain.” Hess sounded controlled, though the same undercurrent of apprehension filled her voice.

“Life support systems are working under backup power, Captain. But the warp core and engines are offline.” Rostov’s voice was somewhat less controlled than Hess, but to his credit, he wasn’t panicking.

“The patients are still under, though their neural activity has spiked, particularly in T’Pol and Jhamel, and their companions.” Doctor Phlox maintained his equilibrium, and the sound of his usual cheer eased Archer's mind somewhat.

In Tarquin’s study, Jhamel squeezed Hoshi’s hand; her left hand reached for Shran’s as they sat in Hoshi’s quarters. A blue glow surrounded their avatars and leaped to T’Pol and Trip.

The darkness pulsed, once, twice, and was gone; the study lights rose to their usual brightness. On the ship, T’Pol’s eyes fluttered and she half-slumped against Trip as all systems came back online. Jhamel gasped and her antennae went rigid, blind eyes rolling back into her head. Shran’s eyes blinked open and he leaned forward, his antennae stroking gently at hers.

“You dare!” Tarquin turned to lash out, and Malcolm stepped forward. The telepath swung toward him, face twisted into a snarl. “You’ll pay, you’ll all pay for stealing my companion!” He stretched out his hand toward Malcolm, fingers clawed.

And then Hoshi had pushed Malcolm aside, stepped before him, and was standing toe to toe with Tarquin. “You’re not listening,” she growled. “My friends have been trying to tell you, but you refuse to pay heed. Now it’s my turn. I warned you before what would happen if you threatened my crew, my family.”

The telepath sneered. “If you won’t be with me, then you and your crew don’t deserve to—”

Hoshi kicked out and up. Her foot connected with the enhancer, striking it from Tarquin’s hand and sending it flying. It spun in the air, sparkling; once, twice, thrice. He grabbed at it, screaming incoherently; but Hoshi shoulder-checked him out of the way.

The enhancer tumbled, all eyes on its glimmer. A phase pistol materialised in Hoshi’s hand; as though the enhancer was a target practice ball, she aimed and fired, hitting it dead-centre. The last she saw of the shimmering orb was it shattering into a million glittering shards as Tarquin shrieked in despair.

And then she was back in her body, slumping back against Malcolm’s knee, as Jhamel sagged into Shran’s waiting embrace and Trip steadied T’Pol against his shoulder.

Chapter Text

“Pinkskin.”

Malcolm turned from closing his door to find Shran behind him. The Andorian’s antennae were mobile, weaving slightly as if tasting the air, seeming almost curious as they turned toward him. His eyes were drawn to them, even as he greeted the commander.

“Shran. Is everything alright? What can I do for you?”

“I believe it may be more what I can do for you.”

Malcolm frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Shran turned and walked alongside the tactical officer, keeping them to a slow stroll, hands behind his back. “When we were joined yesterday, providing support to Jhamel and your communications officer against that foul beast … did you feel anything from my mind?”

“I—” Malcolm had to stop and think. “I remember feeling something and thinking that’s Shran, but what it was … I’m not entirely—wait!" His eyes, narrowed in thought, widened. "You were disgusted,” he said slowly. “At Tarquin, and the way he was trying to undermine Hoshi.” He sent the Andorian a sidelong look. “I felt that disgust run up my spine, as though it was mine, but not.”

Shran nodded, unsurprised; his antennae settled back as though satisfied. “As I felt your rage when he turned into a man who looked like you.”

Malcolm glanced at him. “Noticed that, did you? Apparently that was the form he took the first time he appeared to Hoshi.”

“It was clear enough that he chose the form of someone who made her feel safe. If I hadn’t already known how protective you were over her, the immediate and burning desire to annihilate the threat she faced would have made it clear.”

The other man nodded slowly. “I won’t be foolish and deny it. She means too much to me for that.” He pursed his lips. “But what does that have to do with you doing something for me?”

Shran smiled a little grimly. “You are apprehensive. There are things you want to say to her, and you are not sure how she will take them.” He stopped as Malcolm came to an abrupt halt, grey-green eyes turning to ice.

“What do you know about what I want to say to Hoshi?” Menace threaded through that low growl, and Shran laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“A man after my own heart; threatening without saying a word. Rest easy, pinkskin,” he said easily; “I know not what you wish to say to her, only that you do. And I am not such a fool as to not realise what it could be.” Malcolm didn’t look the least bit mollified, nostrils flaring as his jaw clenched. Shran’s antennae moved in amusement before the Andorian turned serious.

“I felt something through Jhamel, though I didn’t pay attention at the time. And only a short while ago did it come to me what I had felt.” At the look on Malcolm’s face, he held up a hand. “Do not worry; I couldn’t describe it, not even to myself. All I can tell you is that, if you plan to ask her to choose you … there is a very good likelihood that she herself is waiting for the right chance.”

“Choose me?” The tactical officer’s rigid shoulders were slowly easing.

“In Andorian culture, it is the woman who chooses. As Talas—may the peace of the ice be upon her—did for me.” Shran’s expression grew even more serious. “I would not presume to tell you that your communications officer will without a doubt choose you. That is not my place, and I am no speaker of prophecy.” He shook his head at Malcolm, antennae pointing earnestly at the other man. “But I will say that you should not leave it too long. Give her a sign that she will not be doing so in vain. For without encouragement, the delicate u'sht plant will not thrive, let alone flourish.”

Hoshi walked down the corridor toward the turbo-lift, pensive and distracted.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Startled, she looked up. Malcolm had appeared beside her, likely from out of the junction she’d just passed, oblivious to her surroundings. An involuntary smile curved her lips; she hadn’t forgotten the coolness of his fingers on her neck, lending support and strength, or the fervour in his voice as he’d castigated Tarquin for deliberately misunderstanding her.

“Just wishing we had more time with Jhamel. Hopefully this won’t be the last time we see her.”

“Not if Shran has anything to do with it; though I suspect our Andorian friend isn’t going to be particularly fêted when they get back.”

That drew a startled glance from her. “Oh?”

Now it was Malcolm’s turn to look pensive. “He’s mentioned that losing a ship isn’t exactly greeted with understanding at the Imperial Guard. He’s a thorn in their sides, from what I understand; some would find this an ideal excuse to settle a few scores. And he’s liaised with the Aenar without authority; I wouldn’t be surprised if some find fault with him for that, the Aenar being pacifists; even though we know that without Jhamel, we would never have found a way to defeat Tarquin.”

Hoshi sighed and moved closer to Malcolm, unconsciously sliding her hand into his; he looked down, surprised, but didn’t comment.

“After all that, it feels kind of anti-climactic for them to simply be leaving, not knowing what’s going to happen. It felt like a new dawn, a change was coming; but I suppose that was really for me, because my mind was free. And we got lucky—I got really lucky—that he didn’t do any psychic damage, like I was expecting. And that was all thanks to you, all of you. If I’d been on my own …” She trailed off, fingers clenching on his as she fought back a shudder, unwilling to contemplate the possibility. “And then I shot the enhancer, and Tarquin—” She hesitated, and he squeezed her fingers.

“Don’t. He brought it on himself. And now that he can’t amplify his telepathy, he can’t hurt you, or anyone else.”

Hoshi sighed again, and nodded. “You’re right. Those women, his companions … I can’t help wondering, did they truly want to be there? Or was he just not listening to them, the way he didn’t listen to me? Did they eventually just give in because there was no escape?”

This time Malcolm stopped and turned to face her, letting go of her hand and taking hold of her shoulders. “Hoshi. Don’t,” he said again, more gently. “You can’t go back and change what happened to them. Maybe they started out interested, who knows? Maybe they wanted to be there, maybe not. There’s no way of knowing, and nothing to be done about it.” She looked up, dark eyes woebegone, and he squeezed her shoulders lightly. “What matters is that you avenged anyone who didn’t want to be there, and you’ve saved who knows how many women from suffering the same fate. And probably their ships, too, if he was willing to kill our entire crew to keep you.”

Leaning into the pressure of his hands firm on her shoulders, Hoshi looked into his eyes, searching for an answer—to what, she didn’t know, but she knew that if anyone had an answer for her, it was this man. He didn’t look away, those silver-and-sage eyes meeting hers calmly. Sincerity rang in his voice; he truly believed what he was saying. He wouldn’t lie to her. She knew she needed to let go of the guilt that had been plaguing her, not being able to save the women in those four graves.

Her hands came up to rest on his wrists, and she closed her eyes, nodding. “You’re right. I need to move past what I can’t change.” She grimaced, then opened her eyes. “I wish I could; I wish I could help them. But the reality is, I can’t.” She gave one last sigh, then straightened, letting go of Malcolm’s wrists as he dropped his hands from her shoulders. “But, dammit, we stopped him. He tried to hurt our home, and he didn’t succeed.” She searched her feelings, looking for guilt related to Tarquin himself, and found none. That brought a smile, and a sparkle to the surface of her coffee-coloured eyes, crinkling as she returned her gaze to Malcolm. “And I don’t feel bad for him; only for them. Now he has to live alone with himself and what he’s done. And he can’t hurt anyone else.” She turned to walk down the corridor again. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I guess I just needed to talk to someone who could understand.”

“You’re welcome, Ensign.” He rejoined her in her walk down the corridor. “And I’m proud of you. I couldn’t have done what you did, endured what you did, for so long, without going a little mad. I know I’m the ship’s watchdog; but I think you’ve taken some of that role onto yourself. You’re our first line of defence, as it were. The one who has the task of helping figuring out exactly what we face, and whether I need to get involved.”

Hoshi’s cheeks warmed, and a memory came to her of his voice, calm and soothing. I might be the one tasked with keeping us safe, but you’re the one who has to try and make sure that that initial contact goes well enough that my skills don’t have to come into play.

“You said that before,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “When I was sleeping? I’m sure you haven’t said that to me directly, but I remember your words.” Suddenly she became aware that she was walking on her own, and looked around; Malcolm had stopped in his tracks and was staring at her; if she didn’t know better, she’d think he looked almost panicked. “What is it?” She reached out to him instinctively, and he took her hand almost unconsciously.

“You—you heard me?” His voice was constricted, she noted absently. He was alarmed, there was no doubt about that. She closed her fingers about his reassuringly.

“I must have, or I wouldn’t remember what you said.” She shook her head slightly. “But I don’t really remember everything. I know your voice was there; but the words … if you hadn’t said something similar, I don’t know that I would even have thought of it, to be honest.”

Malcolm relaxed slightly, but kept holding her hand. “Hoshi … may I come and see you tonight, after our shifts end? There are some things I need to say, and I can’t say them now.” Those storm-touched eyes were wide, almost apprehensive; he seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for her answer, though his voice was back to normal; she wondered if she’d imagined the earlier change.

She nodded and smiled, and his look of apprehension vanished. “I’d like that.” Her voice was both intrigued and welcoming; as though a treat was coming, and she was looking forward to receiving it. The air seemed charged for a moment, no further words forthcoming; then steps were heard from the corner ahead, and the captain’s voice, murmuring. They let go of each other and sprang apart just as he and T’Pol rounded the corner.

He paused on seeing them. “Malcolm, Hoshi.”

They nodded and said in chorus, “Captain, Commander.” T’Pol merely nodded, but Archer had to cough and pass a hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile. They didn’t seem to realise just how in sync they were.

“We’re heading to the transporter to say goodbye to Shran and Jhamel, if you’d like to join us.”

“Thank you, Captain.” That was Hoshi, her eyes brightening at the thought. “I’d appreciate the opportunity. I’d still be struggling if not for Jhamel’s help.”

“Well then, let’s go. Joining us, Malcolm?” He began walking again, and they fell into step behind him and T’Pol; he shortened his stride a little so they could all keep up.

“No, sir, but thank you. I ran into Shran earlier. Now I need to get to the Armoury.” He continued beside Hoshi for a short while and then turned toward the turbo-lift with a quick nod as they headed for the transporter alcove.

Jhamel and Shran were waiting as they arrived, the Aenar small but almost regal in her pale furs and skins. Hoshi went straight to her and, as if sensing her approach, Jhamel held out a hand. Then, to Hoshi’s surprise as she took the hand outstretched to her, Jhamel held out her other hand to T’Pol. The Vulcan almost looked uncertain for a moment, then her eyebrow quirked and, with a swift glance at Hoshi, she and Jhamel each touched the other’s covered wrist. With a small nod, T’Pol reached toward Hoshi, and they did the same, avoiding direct skin contact.

“Thank you,” Jhamel said quietly, her antennae waving slightly. “I didn’t want to make you uneasy, but I feel that we may not be in contact for a long while to come. And I could not leave without acknowledging the parts we each played in gaining freedom.”

“Thank you,” Hoshi said sincerely. “I’d still be vulnerable to Tarquin if you hadn’t intervened; and the ship would have been in grave danger if you hadn’t thought of having T’Pol shield it, and everyone on it.”

“I believe we worked well together.” T’Pol’s voice carried no emotion, but the other two women gave small, secretive smiles, Jhamel’s antennae turning toward the Vulcan in almost happy surprise. “Dif-tor heh smusma - Live long, and prosper.”

“Peace and long life.” Jhamel’s antennae turned toward Hoshi before the Aenar repeated the response to T’Pol.

“A'shen ma'thay v'min,” Jhamel greeted in turn. "May your fire be bright."

T’Pol turned her eyes to Hoshi, who said “V'mur sheth'ru th'ys - and your hearth remain warm." The Vulcan nodded and repeated the response to Jhamel.

Finally they both looked at Hoshi. “Slán leat, slán abhaile - that’s safe with you, safe journey home in Gaelic,” she explained. “And also, Até nos encontrarmos novamente - until we meet again, in Brazilian.”

All three bowed their heads for a moment, then looked up and let go. Jhamel and Hoshi smiled, and the faintest twitch moved the corner of T’Pol’s mouth before her face went still again.

Jhamel turned to greet Archer and Hoshi stepped back. The Aenar gave one last faint smile and headed toward the transporter as Shran stepped up to Archer, his face serious.

“I regret much of what happened between us recently.”

“Same here,” by the captain. He looked troubled at Shran’s warning that he might not be so readily available for the foreseeable future.

T’Pol’s offer to speak on Shran’s behalf was met with a quirk of the lips; but the Andorian nodded in appreciation, exchanging a few more words with her and the captain before heading for the transporter himself to take Jhamel's hand. A faint hum, and they both disappeared in a blue shimmer.

Archer sighed, turning away. “I hope they’ll be okay.”

T’Pol began walking beside the captain. “I, too, hope that all goes well with them now that they are back on their world. I do not believe the Imperial Guard will punish Commander Shran too harshly—it would be illogical—but it is likely that should we meet again, it will be under vastly different circumstances than those that have gone before.”

Hoshi let the others move on a short distance as she stared at the transporter pads. “Hamba kahle, my friend - go well,” she murmured in Zulu, then turned to follow her superior officers to the bridge.

Alone on his planet, Tarquin raged and wept by turns as he tried to reassemble the enhancer. It was to no avail; the phaser shot had not merely broken the orb, but vaporised parts of it. His access to possible companions was gone.

Hoshi should have stayed! She betrayed me for that Reed! I should have killed him when I had the chance—him and all the rest!

As he rushed out into the hall, movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head and gasped. Morianna Taal and the other companions stood around him. But how? That’s impossible!

“Is it?” Morianna’s voice was low and vibrant with the anger that had characterised her years with him. “You stole my life, you stole my memories. Why would I not be with you, in your mind, now that you have lost your chance to subject another woman to your whims?”

“But you were lonely! I gave you a life greater than you could have dreamed!”

“No, you were lonely! How often did I tell you that I was not, that I wanted to go home, but you refused to listen, you refused to see?” The other women raised their voices in agreement, advancing on Tarquin.

His hands raised, he backed to the doors at the end of the hallway, the women blocking his path. With nowhere else to go, he opened them and moved outside, swinging wildly at the women as they followed him, shrieking imprecations. He didn’t notice the parapet until his shins hit it and he overbalanced.

The wind whistled mournfully, blowing snow along the empty ground and into the castle through the open doors.

Hoshi hurried through a quick dinner and shower, hastily dragging on her favourite teal t-shirt over a pair of black yoga pants. When the door chimed, she leapt up from her desk chair and stepped quickly to the door to greet Malcolm.

But this was not the Malcolm she had seen that morning; nor the Malcolm who had soothed and calmed and encouraged her the day before. He was pale, eyes troubled and distant. He looked like he was in shock, she thought, barely seeming to realise that he was at her door.

Hoshi took his hand, tugging him into her room so the door could close behind him. He offered no resistance as she led him to sit on her bed, sitting beside him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Malcolm?” she asked quietly. “What can I do to help?”

For a moment longer he stared at the ground; then, as she hugged his shoulders, he turned a stupefied gaze her way.

“Trip’s leaving.” He sounded stunned, desolate.

“What?” Hoshi felt as though he’d hit her in the solar plexus; she couldn’t seem to breathe properly. Trip’s leaving? “What—I don’t—”

Malcolm finally focused on her face. “He’s—he’s going to Columbia. Looking for a new challenge, he said, but I—” He lapsed into silence, his hand closing painfully on hers. Hoshi made no demur; she felt the ache deep in her chest, already feeling Trip’s loss. How much worse it must be for the man who had cautiously allowed the chief engineer to become his best friend.

And what about T’Pol? As the thought struck her, and remembering the book of Vulcan love poems she’d glimpsed in the first officer’s quarters, Hoshi drew a sharp breath. It couldn’t be—could it?

She looked at Malcolm; he was watching her now, eyes still dull, face drawn and pinched, as though with a pain he didn’t yet know how to express.

“He’s going,” he whispered. “He’s—” For a moment his face seemed on the verge of crumbling; she saw the effort it took for him to hold together, felt it as his hand crushed hers.

There was nothing she could do about Trip leaving; if T’Pol wasn’t enough to keep him here, then her chances were as slim as a bucket of water trying to quell a forest fire. But she could do something about the devastated man beside her.

Sitting back on her bed, leaning against the bulkhead, she coaxed him to follow her, drawing his head to her shoulder. As he leaned against her, sliding his arms around her waist to cling to her tightly, she allowed her fingers to trail through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in the manner she had learned soothed him while they took turns reading to each other.

His face buried in her shoulder, she felt his silent tears soak through the thin material of her t-shirt and leaned her head against his, drawing comfort from his weight and solidity, listening as his stifled breathing finally smoothed and deepened. It took her a while longer, but finally she slept, too, as they held onto each other, seeking solace even in sleep.

Tomorrow would have to take care of itself; for now, their little pocket of grief was all that mattered.