Title: In the Waiting
Author: Vesper (Regina)
Warnings: adult themes, implication of violence
Category: ENT, angst
Codes: R/S, Tu
Spoilers: Shuttlepod One
Summary: In the moment of waiting.
Disclaimer: The almighty Paramount encircled by twenty-two stars owns this particular show, but I own the story. I do not own "The Wizard of Oz."
Archival: Permission to Warp 5 Complex (EntSTCommunity) and Linguistics Database, only. Please keep my all headers intact.
"And it was so...that the life of Jonathan was bound up with the life of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul." I Samuel 18:1
I used to think I was in the middle.
There is a story the actress Judy Garland would tell, that the three men she worked with in "The Wizard of Oz" would crowd her out, and the director would constantly cry, "Let that little girl in there!"
I often felt out-numbered by men--Malcolm, Trip, Travis, and Jon.
Of the four, the two men I envied most were Malcolm and Trip.
Long before Malcolm and I, there was Trip and Malcolm. Anyone could see it. As small as the ship was, as familiar as everybody was with everybody else, it was hard not to speculate.
Who is gay, who is straight, who is bi, so on and so forth. I never really cared. Everyone is entitled to their own orientation, to their own private life.
Until the day Malcolm kissed me.
It was warm and simple and full of promise, and I loved it. I loved him. I had for a long time. We were good friends and it seemed an easy step to make, but then we were all good friends.
I drew back from him. I'd heard too many rumors not to. He looked at me with all the worry that an action like that would, by nature, cause, and asked the question I knew I would have to answer.
"What's wrong, Hoshi?"
"Nothing's wrong, Malcolm. I just have a question."
"I always thought you and Trip..." I trailed off, conveniently. Let him fill it in. Let his reaction tell me what's true.
He raised his eyebrows, but that was all. He said, "That I and Trip were lovers?"
"Everyone seems to think that. I'm straight. Trip's straight." He shrugged. "I don't know why they would think so, but it never bothered me."
"Does it bother you that I thought so?"
"Only if you won't kiss me again."
So I kissed him again, and that was that. He didn't lie to me, but he and Trip, well, they're close.
You can see it in the consideration they have for each other, the laughter they share, the almost psychic way they work together, the way neither backs down when they have something to say. They speak to each other in the strange code that never approaches talk of "I feel." It's there though, every single day, and while Malcolm tells me, "I love you," every chance he gets, the same feeling is never told to Trip.
He knows, even though he would never say it.
They won't say it. There are always things that are never said.
I mourn for that, and for what might be, for what might happen if Phlox is not successful.
He is our friend. Malcolm told me once about what actually happened on the shuttlepod, when they almost died and the sacrifice they were each prepared to make.
We are waiting, because of Trip's sacrifice. Malcolm is terribly silent, but his grip on my hand tells me what he feels.
I love them both so much.
I look down at our hands and my tears fall and streak across the blood that covers them. Trip's blood. There was so much of it, so much red, staining his uniform, seeping through Malcolm's hands.
He didn't let the pressure up until he was ordered to. He didn't say a word, then, his face drawn, only grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go.
When Trip opened his eyes and croaked, "Hey," the sigh Malcolm let out was matched by my own.
I used to think I was in the middle. I hope I always am.