1. Important Business

**_This story is dedicated to my fanfic pals Serit and LoyaulteMeLie, the Dominic Keating Estrogen Brigade and all of the Malcolm Reed fangirls worldwide. You know who you are_!**

**Written for fun, Paramount/CBS owns the boys... you know the drill. ****Betaed by the lovely and talented LoyaulteMeLie. Reviews are much appreciated!**

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1 – Important Business

Mess Hall, E Deck, 0710 hours, November 8, 2151

Today was the day. Jean was tired of waiting, tired of dropping hints, and she damn sure was tired of wondering if the man she had fallen in love with thought of her as anything more than his best friend. Today was the day when she would find out, one way or the other, if her faith in storybook endings would be bolstered or puréed by real-world experience. Yes sir. Today.

She came into the Mess Hall and spotted him fairly quickly: Malcolm Reed, the man who had been occupying her thoughts for the last two months.

She got herself a tray and joined the buffet line, helping herself to scrambled eggs, toast, yogurt and a mug of tea from the drinks dispenser. She headed over to the table where Malcolm was sitting and greeted him with a smile. "Good morning."

He took his eyes off of his PADD long enough to smile up at her, but his version of the gesture seemed to lack enthusiasm. "Morning."

She sat down, puzzled but by no means discouraged by his cool demeanor. Whenever he was wrapped up in a project, his focus elsewhere, particularly on social matters, tended to suffer. "Working on something interesting?"

Malcolm shook his head at the PADD with a short, huffed breath and met her eyes. "Only if you think that Shuttlepod targeting scanners are a particularly riveting subject."

She started to work on her eggs, flashing him a wry look. "Can't say that I do. Then again, I'm not a weapons expert or an engineer."

He set the PADD down and took a sip of his own tea. "Well, those systems need to be tested, and by my calculations, for the test to be accurate it must be conducted at least twenty-thousand kilometres from Enterprise." Malcolm grimaced. "As you pointed out, the test will require an engineer as well as a weapons expert, so I will have the pleasure of Commander Tucker's company in Shuttlepod One for the next three and a half days. We're due to launch at 0830."

"Oh." Jean's heart sank. The conversation she had planned on having with Malcolm wasn't something which could be discussed anywhere as public as the Mess Hall or a corridor, and if things went as she hoped they would, it would be borderline cruel to squeeze in their talk between breakfast and disembarking on a four day away mission. After all, they were both victims of involuntary Starfleet celibacy, and getting more than Mal's hopes up before sending him off in a cramped Shuttlepod with Trip, where he would have no recourse for relieving any tension? That just wouldn't be right. She tried to hide her disappointment, but Malcolm caught on that something was amiss.

"What is it?"

She forced a smile and ate a bit of her yogurt. "I just wanted to talk to you about something important today. It's best discussed in private and it's a conversation I'd rather not rush."

He raised his eyebrows, apparently intrigued. "Fair enough. We'll talk when I get back." He nodded, smiling pleasantly, and she wondered if he had any idea what the topic might be. He was very intelligent in the academic sense, which was one of the qualities that she admired most about him, but when it came to reading human social cues, she sometimes thought that he was less skilled than Phlox.

She changed gears, going back to the topic of 'two men in a boat.' "So, almost four days alone with Trip." She canted her head to one side and asked in a mock-innocent voice, "You looking forward to it?"

Malcolm gave her a guarded look, then shrugged and picked up his PADD with a grudging smile. "We have had a few entertaining conversations, but I'm hardly 'looking forward' to being cooped up with him in a shuttle until the twelfth. His optimism tends to set my teeth on edge at the best of times, and there isn't exactly any way to have time to oneself in a shuttlecraft. I suspect he'll regale me with stories running the gamut between alligators and anti-matter injectors."

"Mister Reed, you are a curmudgeon." She tossed her napkin at him, making sure that the cloth covered his PADD's screen. "Maybe the cramped quarters will give you a chance to practice socializing. Not that I'm even close to getting tired of your company, but expanding your circle of friends isn't a terrible idea."

He shook off her napkin and shot her a withering glance. "I hardly think that working on shuttle targeting scanners will foster any sort of lasting bond between us—"

"Mal…" she reached across the table and tapped the back of his hand with her index finger. "Please? I've warmed up to him since we launched—" She raised her hands in mock surrender at his startled look. "Strictly platonic warming, of course, and I'd like to be able to socialize with both of you without anyone feeling uncomfortable. Just… give him a chance, okay?"

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. I'll need something to read, just in case we finish the tests early. _Enterprise _will be dropping us off and then heading to an asteroid field for some mapping project, so I'll need some form of entertainment other than Mistah Tuckah's fascinating stories and anecdotes."

She nodded. Her breakfast was mostly eaten by that point, and Malcolm's food was long gone. He seemed about ready to leave, so she scrambled for an excuse to see him again before he left for his mission. "I can download something to a PADD for you while you're getting ready. How does _Ulysses _sound?"

He pushed his chair back, standing up with the PADD still in hand, and a genuine smile lit up his face. "That sounds perfect, actually. I've always been fond of Joyce. Can you put it on this one and meet me in Launch Bay One in half an hour?"

Jean smiled, taking the proffered PADD from him. "Sure thing. I'll see you then." Their fingers brushed during the hand-off and it took every bit of her self-control to not pounce on him right there. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed that his smile had widened slightly during the brief moment of physical contact. Well, at least that was a good sign.

Malcolm bobbed his head and briefly fiddled with his napkin, suddenly seeming nervous. "I'll…" he cleared his throat and started again. "I'll miss you, Jean."

She smiled at him, touched and pleasantly surprised that he had said so. "I'll miss you too, Mal. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

He nodded again and headed for the Mess door, leaving behind a slightly rumpled napkin. Jean stared thoughtfully at the cloth while she finished her breakfast. She remembered Hoshi saying something about Malcolm worrying at his napkin during what had come to be known as "The Enchilada Debacle", and wondered if it was significant that he had been doing something similar just now. It had certainly been a long time since he had acted nervous around her, and only one crazy long shot of a reason for such behavior occurred to her, but she was reluctant to get her hopes up.

She took the PADD to her quarters so she could use the terminal there to download the book. She could have used any terminal on board, really, but she had a surprise planned for Malcolm, and to do it right she needed some privacy. It seemed that today wasn't going to be the day after all, but the day wasn't too far off, and she had one more big hint to drop before the twelfth rolled around.


	2. Personal Logs

**A/N: As part of the overhaul I added a new first chapter and moved the updated version of the original ch 1 to follow it, so please read through the *new* ch 1 before going on to the rest of the story. Betaed by the lovely and talented LoyaulteMeLie. Written for fun, Paramount/CBS owns the boys... you know the drill._ Reviews are much appreciated!_**

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2 – Personal Logs

Pod 1, November 10 2151

"My dearest Rochelle, by this time I'm certain you've learned of the tragedy..."

Trip dropped his tools into his lap and burst out in a frustrated voice, "Wouldn't it be easier just to record one message and then add the 'dear whoever' afterwards? This is your fifth or sixth identical letter!"

Malcolm stopped recording and turned to face the engineer, stung by the unjust gibe. "That's not true, there have been subtle differences. I would never refer to Rochelle as having a 'beautiful smile'." He paused and added, wistfully remembering, "with her it was the eyes."

Trip smiled sadly. "D'you remember how Jean's eyes would shine whenever she was laughing?"

Malcolm nodded, his sombre expression momentarily replaced by a happier one. "When wasn't she laughing? She had a lovely smile and the eyes to match." The smile drained from his face. "She would have been twenty-eight next week." He looked down at the deck plating between his boots and shivered. At least he would be joining her soon.

"Next week?" Trip shook his head and looked absently at the defunct sensor relay in his hands. "She was too young to die like that; they all were. Travis and Hoshi couldn't have been more than what, twenty-four, twenty-five?"

"If the captain were here with us now, I wonder if he'd regret bringing them on this mission?"

Trip shook his head, frowning. "I knew the Cap'n a long time, an' I'm sure he wouldn't… not for a minute. They died doing what they loved."

Malcolm turned back to the console and started to nod, then he looked up and his brow furrowed. "I don't remember Hoshi loving much about being in deep space."

"Nah, she was comin' along. She saved our asses on more'n one occasion. I'm plannin' on letting her family know just how essential she was." He went back to working on the sensor relay lying in his lap.

Malcolm nodded in agreement and looked over at Trip. "Hmm. Sounds to me like you do have some letters of your own to record."

Trip shook his head in disagreement without bothering to look up from the sensor relay. "I'll wait to tell them in person."

Exasperated, Malcolm 'humphed' and shook his head before looking at the other man. "You know, your treacly optimism is beginning to get just a wee bit tiresome."

Trip looked up sharply and cocked his head to one side, spitting out sarcastically, "Unlike your heartfelt letters of farewell to half the girls of San Francisco?"

"At least I'm capable of accepting our fate!" Malcolm retorted angrily. "We're going to be dead in about thirty-three hours. Whether our beards continue to grow or not is of no concern to me, we will be dead! And unless some ship happens to cross our path, our bearded bodies will be discovered in about three or four years, is that optimistic enough for you?"

As Malcolm continued, his voice rose and became increasingly upset, while Trip dropped his gaze back to the deck and his tools, waiting for the diatribe to end. When it finally did, the engineer looked over at him wonderingly for a brief instant, and then responded, equally incensed.

"What's your problem with havin' a little hope?"

"What's _your _problem with facing the truth?" The fire had gone out of Malcolm's argument after that last shot; now he just sat in the pilot's chair with his hands in his jacket pockets, hunched over slightly and staring at one of the guidance displays without seeing it.

"You're a regular Grim Reaper, Malcolm, anyone ever tell you that?"

When Malcolm didn't react, Trip opened the compartment where the emergency rations were and sat beside it. "Well, if this little trip is a death sentence, then it would seem to me that we're entitled to a last meal. What'll it be? I'm afraid our selection is somewhat limited..."

"I'm not hungry." Reed continued staring through the pilot's console.

Trip took out the bottle of bourbon which they had found earlier and looked it over thoughtfully, slowly tilting it in his hand so that the golden-brown alcohol inside swirled around. "Well then, how 'bout a drink?"

He huffed at the absurdity of the idea. "I don't drink on duty."

Trip's shoulders sagged and he turned around to eye the other man incredulously. "Are you serious? We're dead men, remember." As he spoke, he put the bottle off to the side and removed the strut which was still holding the compartment open, emerging with two glasses. "What's the matter, lieutenant? Are you afraid the autopsy'll show your blood-alcohol level was too high to pilot a shuttle?"

He poured a glass for each of them and held one out to his colleague. "Live a little, that's an order."

Malcolm reluctantly accepted the glass, but didn't drink it right away. He sat with his shoulders hunched forward, staring at the glass of bourbon in his hand and shivering fitfully.

Trip downed his bourbon in one swallow, and began assembling a candle. He lit it, and then stared at the flame thoughtfully.

Malcolm gave him a sidelong glance. "Do you really think that's going to provide any heat?"

"The bourbon'll provide the heat. The candle's just for mood."

The Englishman noticed that Trip was eyeing his untouched liquor, so wasn't all that surprised when the engineer proposed a toast.

"To the brave men and women of the starship _Enterprise._"

Malcolm was a bit surprised at the gesture and still reluctant to drink while he was technically on shift, but out of respect for his fallen crewmates and friends, he tilted back his glass and had a swallow of liquor. Afterwards he lowered the glass, still with a mouthful of bourbon swirling around at the bottom, and let out a shaky breath. The shuttle was so cold by that point that both his and Trip's breath was visible.

"You know that'll consume oxygen, don't you?"

Staring into the flame as though he was trying to mentally warm himself, Trip shrugged. "We'll prob'ly be dead five or six minutes sooner than we would'a been, I can live with that. Anyway, it seems to me as far as you're concerned the sooner the better."

Malcolm looked up and turned his head towards the other man, a mixed look of surprise and sadness on his face.

"Is that really how you see me? The eternal pessimist, the 'Grim Reaper'? I don't want to die, what makes you think I want to die?" Feeling hurt and confused, he looked down at the bourbon in his glass, hoping to find an answer which would deaden the sting from his officer's words.

"Because ever since we saw Enterprise spread across that asteroid, you've done nothing but write your own obituary." There was no comfort in these words, nothing beyond what Trip evidently considered to be fact.

Malcolm turned his whole body this time and fixed a sad but steady gaze on the commander. "I lost nearly everyone I cared about on that ship." His voice was tight with emotion, and as he spoke, he turned away from Trip and started talking at the guidance console. It was easier not to look at the other man, but staring at the shuttle's equipment reminded him of every time he'd been in the pod, which, in turn, made him remember who was sitting at each station on those missions. It forced him to remember the individuals whose deaths he was trying so very hard to make sense of.

"Those girls I talked about; Deborah, Rochelle, Caitlin, none of them worked out because I could... never get very close to them. I never got very close to my family for that matter, not that it's any business of yours. But with the crew of the Enterprise it was different, I was really starting to feel... comfortable with them."

_With certain ones more than others_, he thought, grief-stricken at the realization that he would never see Jean or Travis again. His voice was choked with tears, but he couldn't bring himself to care that for once his emotions were plain to see.

"Jean was the only woman I've ever really felt close to. She... appreciated me, cared about me, could always manage to make me laugh, and despite my efforts to protect _her_, she always watched _my_ back. Said that someone had to look out for the man who protects everyone else."

Trip smiled fondly. "Yeah, she sure is somethin'."

Malcolm fixed him with a brief, anguished glare, grinding out, "She_ was_, Commander. She _was _something. She was my dearest friend, knew things about me that I never—" He bit down hard on his lip, hoping to distract himself with some physical pain. He shut his eyes tight, flinching slightly when he imagined Jean putting her arms around him, shushing him and telling it would all be all right.

_"Stop worrying, silly man," _she'd say, holding him close. _"Everything turned out just fine. As a matter of fact, chef made pineapple cake to celebrate your safe return."_

She would kiss him, and he'd be surprised, pulling back slightly to see her better. Her expression would be soft, and she'd smile, putting a hand on his cheek.

_"Oh, Malcolm, I was so worried about you, worried I wouldn't get a chance to tell you this, but now that you're back safe, I can. I love you. I love you, Malcolm, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I was too afraid to say anything before, but this last near miss has made me realize that I want to spend every possible moment with you, because the next time a mission goes wrong, you may not come back, and I don't want to waste any more time being afraid..."_

He forcibly snapped himself out of the fantasy.

_That's never going to happen now, so you can just forget about it. Even if she weren't dead, it's a pie in the sky dream that she ever felt that way about you. Stop torturing yourself with 'what ifs'. You're stuck with _Mr. Sunshine_ for the next day and a half, which will be the rest of your life, and you're not likely to get any sympathy from him. Better resign yourself to that fact. The cold atmosphere in the pod isn't just because of the thermostat._

A lump formed in his throat and his eyes started to well up, but then he recalled who was left alive, and he couldn't help but appreciate the cruel irony.

"She's gone. I'll never see her again, and now, out of the whole damned crew, the only one that's left thinks I'm the bloody Angel of Death!" He let out a short and bitter muffled laugh, then drained the rest of his bourbon in one swig.

Apparently moved by this rare outburst from the usually reserved man, Trip blew out the candle and looked pensively in Malcolm's direction. "All of a sudden five or six more minutes sounds kinda nice."


	3. Surprise

**Written for fun, Paramount/CBS owns the boys... you know the drill. ****Betaed by the lovely and talented LoyaulteMeLie. Reviews are much appreciated!**

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3 - Surprise

After Trip blew out the candle they sat in silence for what seemed like an hour, each man alone with his own thoughts. The quiet was soothing after all the harsh words that had been exchanged, so when Malcolm's PADD suddenly crackled to life with a sound file of a gong being struck, they both nearly jumped out of their skins.

Trip looked around wildly, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to pinpoint the source of the noise. "What the hell?"

Malcolm held up a hand, motioning the other man to be quiet, and listened intently.

"_Hello, this is Jean Olenick with a surprise message for Commander Charles Tucker III and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. By the time this message plays it should be sometime on November tenth, which will be about halfway through your little jaunt. Now, assuming that you two are getting along in your cramped quarters, or that you at least haven't killed each other, I'm guessing that you're probably still 'riveted' by the targeting scanners, but just in case you aren't, here's a little in-flight entertainment. Mal, this song is for you:"_

She began to sing a jazz tune that Trip knew was one of her favorites.

_"There's a somebody I'm longing to see  
I hope that he turns out to be  
Someone to watch over me_

_I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood_  
_I know I could always be good_  
_To one who'll watch over me_

_Although he may not be the man some  
__Girls think of as handsome  
__To my heart he carries the key__  
_

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed_  
_Follow my lead, oh how I need_  
_Someone to watch over me_  
_Someone to watch over me_

_Okay, guys, I hope you enjoyed that song, and I'll see you both in… yep, two days, and try not to miss me __too__ much. I know it's difficult, but try anyway, and please try to get along and stay safe. Olenick ou- no, Merri, get down from the desk. No, don't step on th-"_

The message cut off, leaving the pod in silence again, but now it was less soothing than oppressive. Malcolm stared at the now-silent PADD with a haunted look on his face.

Trip got up from the bench he had been sitting on ever since he disassembled the candle and carried over the bottle of bourbon. He intended to refill the other man's glass so he sat down at the ops position, behind and to the left of the pilot's seat. "Malcolm?"

The lieutenant jerked slightly and Trip put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Hey, easy." Tucker fiddled with the bottle for a few moments. "You love her, don't'cha?"

Malcolm shrugged off his hand, refusing to look at him. "That's none of your business, Commander."

Trip smiled tightly. "And that's not a 'no', Lieutenant."

The other man hunched in on himself miserably, staring into his empty glass. "It hardly matters now. In any case, I doubt she would have had me."

Trip sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he put the pieces together. No wonder the man was so damned miserable. Unrequited love was a bitch at the best of times, but to find out that the object of your affection had died and that your own death was imminent as well – at least as far as Malcolm was concerned – and then to get a message from the girl? That _had_ to hurt. He refilled Malcolm's glass with bourbon, groping around for something kind to say.

"Look, Malcolm… I'm sorry about jumpin' up an' down on you. If you wanna write that letter to your folks now, I'll keep my damn mouth shut an' just let you do it. Okay?"

"Actually, there is one more letter I need to record," Malcolm shot him a wary look, "but it isn't to my parents."

Trip nodded and turned his chair to face the rear bench where his open toolkit was. "Okay. I'll take another crack at the transmitter an' just leave you to it."

The lieutenant entered the necessary commands into the Shuttle's console and then paused, glancing back towards Trip. The engineer gave him an encouraging nod, and he started recording.

"Dear Gwen, I don't know when you will get this message, but before it arrives you will doubtless have heard about the destruction of the starship _Enterprise. _My colleague Commander Tucker and I were on a mission away from the ship when the disaster occurred, so we don't know what might have caused it, but our Shuttlepod only had a few days of air left when we discovered debris from _Enterprise, _so we will most likely not survive long enough to be rescued. I am writing this letter to express my gratitude both to yourself and to Jean's father for accepting me into your extended family. I always appreciated being included in your family gatherings, especially at Thanksgiving and around the winter holidays, and I wanted to tell you how much those times meant to me."

When he heard that, Trip almost dropped his tools out of pure surprise. He had no idea that Malcolm had gotten so close to Jean's folks, and it was especially unexpected since the man hadn't gotten close to his own family, which was just sad. He stared at Malcolm, and when the other man caught him looking, he paused the recording, clearly uncertain about what the commander might be about to say or do. Trip waved one hand, urging the lieutenant to continue, and kept his own mouth firmly shut.

Malcolm pressed a button to resume the recording, but glanced over at the commander a few times as he started talking again. Trip sighed. He knew that he had acted like an ass earlier, and after everything he had said, he could hardly blame Reed for being cautious. Especially considering how personal these messages obviously were to him.

"I cared very deeply for your daughter, and the only thing which I regret more than not telling her how I felt about her when I still had the chance to do so, is the fact that I was unable to protect her from whatever disaster befell the ship. Since Captain Archer is dead as well, and therefore unable to write a condolence letter, I feel it is important that I tell you how dedicated, skilful and kind Jean was, and that she managed to either impress or surprise me every day. She could always make me laugh, and insisted that I try to smile more often…" Malcolm paused the recording again and took several shaky breaths.

When Trip looked closer, he could see that the other man was on the verge of tears. He set aside his tools and put a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, hoping to comfort him in some way. Reed tensed at the contact, so Trip made sure to keep his voice gentle. "This is one hell of a letter, Lieutenant. I'm sure they'll be glad to get it. It's good to get all this recorded, I guess. Just in case, right? Can't hurt."

Malcolm nodded but didn't look at him. "I met them several times… they said it was a family tradition to 'take in strays', people who are friends of theirs and would otherwise be on their own during the holidays." He smiled faintly to himself, finally turning to face Trip as he continued. "Her step-mother, Gwen, is quite a character. More barmy than Jean, even, and just as spontaneous. Jean's father and I have had some stimulating conversations about history and politics." He stared into his glass of bourbon and had a mouthful, muttering afterwards, "if only my father had been a bit more like him."

Trip squeezed his shoulder gently. "The cap'n didn't say much about talkin' to Reed Senior, but I did get the feeling that he's never been up for Father of The Year."

The other man nodded. "I just…" Malcolm sighed, closing his eyes with a pained expression, "I feel that I owe them _something_, and I can't even give them an explanation as to why they'll never see her again."

Trip understood that. He felt the same way about Travis and Hoshi, not to mention his whole engineering staff, but he hadn't allowed himself to think about it until Reed brought it up. "Well, why don't you tell 'em about one of those family get-togethers instead? I'm sure they'd like to know how much you enjoyed 'em."

Malcolm smiled faintly, seeming to appreciate the advice. "Thanks."

"Want me to go back to the bench? Give you some privacy?"

The lieutenant gave a non-committal shrug, staring at the console. "You can hear me well enough from back there," a wry smirk curved his mouth upwards before he added, "and I may need a bit more whiskey to finish this letter."

The engineer chuckled at that, nodding, "Then I'll stay here with the bottle."

Malcolm smiled a bit, then rewound the recording slightly so he could pick up the letter where he had left off. "_She could always make me laugh, and insisted that I try to smile more often," _he hit the 'record' button and continued from there. "Something that always made me smile were your family gatherings. The happiest Christmas I can remember having was last year, especially when little Keisha started calling me 'Uncle Malcolm' and insisted that I give her piggy-back rides around the living room."

Trip grinned at the visual but didn't say a word, instead just standing by with their bottle of liquid courage in case the other man wanted it.

"I treasured my time as her adopted uncle. Please tell James that I'm glad he gave me the chance to spend time with his daughter, and that I regret not being able to play uncle for his recently-arrived second child. Please pass along, as well, my appreciation at having found a kindred spirit in him. I wasn't expecting Jean's cousin to be a firearms expert, so it was a very happy surprise to be able to talk with him at length about weapons and tactics, although we may have bored everyone else in the room to tears. You probably won't hear about _Enterprise'_s destruction before Christmas, so at least your holidays won't have a dark pall over them…" He cleared his throat and continued. "Please don't lie to Keisha about what happened to me and her Auntie Jean, but wait until she's a bit older before telling her the full truth. She'll only be six years old this Christmas, and that is far too young to be thinking about death. Give my best to everyone and know that I think of you all with great affection. Sincerely yours, Malcolm."

Once the lieutenant stopped recording, Trip topped off both of their glasses and patted his back. "Lets get drunk."

Malcolm tossed back his drink in one swallow and held out his glass again. "Hear, hear."


	4. On Tenterhooks

**Written for fun, Paramount/CBS owns the boys... you know the drill. ****Betaed by the lovely and talented LoyaulteMeLie. Reviews are much appreciated!**

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4 – On Tenterhooks

Archer stepped onto the bridge from his ready room, watching as T'Pol took her station, and sat in his chair as he looked over at Hoshi. "Any news on the pod?"

The Comm Officer shook her head. "No hails, Captain."

The captain swiveled to face his Science Officer. "T'Pol?"

Her fingers danced over the console for a moment before she turned to check her viewer. "I'm still detecting Shuttlepod One on long-range sensors, but we are at too great a distance to conduct a more detailed scan." She turned to face the captain again, wearing what he had learned to recognize was the Vulcan version of confusion.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Is there a problem?" It was his experience that on the rare occasions when T'Pol became confused by something other than Human customs, bad news was usually imminent.

She examined her instruments again. "I'm not certain. They are not in the asteroid field, and their current heading indicates a course towards a blue giant which we passed last week."

Archer frowned in what he knew was a very Human expression of confusion. "That doesn't make sense." He turned to Hoshi. "Hail them about the new rendezvous."

Hoshi nodded, one hand to her little earpiece. "_Enterprise_ to Shuttlepod One. Commander Tucker, please respond."

The Bridge was silent as they waited for a reply, but none came.

The captain stepped over to her station. "Hoshi?"

Hoshi pressed a few buttons on her console and frowned. "The channel's open, sir. They should be receiving us."

Archer was starting to get worried. He couldn't imagine a situation where either Trip or Malcolm would ignore a hail, and he started picturing possible scenarios. Images of his officers injured, or worse, flashed before his mind's eye, but he quickly got a hold of himself. There was no use in getting worked up over one unanswered hail. Maybe something was wrong with their transceiver. He shook his head, hoping that the explanation was something that innocuous. "Keep trying them."

"Yes, sir." Hoshi turned all of her focus to the comm channel. "Shuttlepod One, this is Enterprise. Please respond. We are transmitting new rendezvous co-ordinates. We have been forced to change our heading because of dangerous micro-singularities in the asteroid field we were mapping. Set a course for the new coordinates immediately and prepare to rendezvous in forty-eight hours. Shuttlepod One, please respond. Adjust your heading to the new co-ordinates. We will rendezvous in two days. Commander and Lieutenant, please respond."

Hoshi repeated variations on the same hail for the next minute while the atmosphere on the Bridge became more and more uneasy. Archer paced, trying to channel his worried energy by moving around, but it didn't help. He noticed that after each repetition of the message Hoshi would wait for ten seconds, during which she leaned slightly to her left, pressing her earpiece close as she strained to hear a reply. She did a good job of keeping the frustration out of her voice, but towards the end of the most recent transmission she had sounded worried.

The captain stopped pacing and stood by her station. He put a fatherly hand on her shoulder and tried for a reassuring smile, but he had a sinking feeling that it ended up being more of a grimace. "That's enough for now, Hoshi. Try them again in half an hour."

She nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes, sir."

He patted her arm and stepped back to his chair, addressing T'Pol as he sat down. "Keep an eye on long-range sensors. I want to know the _second_ we're close enough to scan for bio-signs."

T'Pol nodded, turning to look into her viewer again. After less than five minutes, she spoke again. "Captain, I'm detecting some anomalous energy readings at the coordinates where Shuttlepod One was a few moments ago."

Archer felt his heart leap into his throat at her words. He shared a worried look with Travis and Hoshi as he stood up and moved to stand in front of the Vulcan's station. "What do you mean 'where it _was_'? Isn't it there anymore?"

T'Pol turned back towards the main Bridge and analyzed the readings on her console for a few moments before she raised her head to reply. "Inconclusive. The Shuttlepod's mass has decreased by approximately twenty-seven percent and I am no longer detecting an active propulsion system. These changes occurred immediately following what seems to have been an explosion."

Archer felt his eyes go wide. The uneasiness that had settled in his gut when the Shuttlepod didn't respond to their hails was rapidly congealing into a tight knot of fear. "Travis, change course to intercept the pod, and step on it. Best possible speed."

The helmsman nodded, making the necessary adjustments. "Aye sir, new course laid in and increasing speed to warp four-point-five." He didn't turn around, so Archer couldn't see his face, but Travis' back and shoulders tensed in a way which suggested that the young ensign was worried.

'You and me both, Travis,' the captain thought as he sat back in his chair. "Let's hope those two haven't gotten themselves into too much trouble."


	5. Play It, Malcolm

**Written for fun, Paramount/CBS owns the boys... you know the drill. ****Betaed by the lovely and talented LoyaulteMeLie. Reviews are much appreciated!**

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5 – Play It, Malcolm

Shortly after they detonated the engine, Malcolm got up from the pilot's seat and made his way to the back of the pod. He sat down on the deck plating with his back to the rear ladder and tugged his blanket tighter.

"We have to survive."

Trip choked out a harsh laugh. "I'm with ya there, Malcolm. Stuff I need to do, places I've always wanted to see…"

Malcolm shook his head. "No. If we don't survive, when _Enterprise _finds us… what do you think will happen?"

The engineer shrugged. "The cap'n'll wanna find out what the hell happened, so T'Pol will do scans, Hoshi'll go over the comm logs, my staff'll pull the damn shuttle apart, and Phlox'll do autopsies."

"Exactly!"

Trip looked at the other man, not understanding what he was getting at. "What d'ya mean 'exactly'?"

"If Phlox does our autopsies, who do you think will be helping him? Hmm? Think it'll be Travis?"

Trip let his head fall forward, groaning as he realized what would happen. "Oh no."

Malcolm nodded angrily. "Getting it now, are we?"

"Jean. She'll… oh God." Trip moved to join him, realizing that there might be some lingering heat from the blast wave of the explosion at the back of the pod. He briefly considered removing the padded seats from the rear benches and sitting on those, just to give themselves some sort of buffer between their bodies and the increasingly cold deck plating, but he decided the idea could be implemented later. Once he was sitting, he took a swig of the bourbon. He handed the bottle off to Malcolm, who also had a swig.

Malcolm tugged his blanket tight again and shut his eyes. "I saw her after a bad day working at hospital in San Francisco. It was barely 1500 and she went straight for the vodka, and that was over people she didn't even _know. _She cried, damn it all. Bloody strangers and she cried for them. What do you think she'll do for us, hmm? I don't want to do _anything_ to make her cry." His voice became more resolute and he opened his eyes again, pointing a badly shaking finger at Trip. "I _won't_ make her cry, and neither will you."

The engineer nodded in agreement. "I hear ya, Malcolm. I hear ya." He had a swig of bourbon and when he was lowering the bottle, something on the floor caught his eye. "Is that your PADD?"

The other man squinted, trying to see what Trip was pointing at, and he eventually nodded. "It is. Why?" He reached out for the PADD, his fingers clumsy from the cold, and managed to pick the thing up.

Trip swallowed past a lump in his throat. "Can you… try to play that file she set up for you?"

Malcolm blinked at him owlishly, looking confused. "I don't see why not."

Trip just nodded. "Good. Play it."

"Why?"

The engineer shuddered. "Because I wanna hear her sing. I'm sick of hearing my own voice, an' I'm sick of yours, now will you just play the damn song?" He let out a shaky sigh, and he honestly wasn't sure if his breath was ragged because of the cold or because of how upset he was. "Just play it, Malcolm. Please."

The other man fumbled with the PADD for a few moments, and then Jean's warm voice wafted through the freezing pod.

"_Hello, this is Jean Olenick with a surprise message for Commander Charles Tucker III and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. By the time this message plays it should be sometime on November tenth, which will be about halfway through your little jaunt. Now, assuming that you two are getting along in your cramped quarters, or that you at least haven't killed each other…"_

Trip watched Malcolm's face, realizing how painful this message must have been for the other man the first time through, and that it wasn't much easier for him to hear this time.

_"Mal, this song is for you:_

_"There's a somebody I'm longing to see  
I hope that he turns out to be  
Someone to watch over me…"_

Trip shook his head as the song went on, realizing just how well the music fit with Malcolm and Jean's friendship. When she couldn't find the words to say something, she often used music to get her point across, and considering the fact that she had chosen to sing a love song… He smiled to himself, wondering why the lieutenant hadn't put the pieces together yet. He didn't want to talk over the song, though, so he decided to wait until the recording finished.

_"…To my heart he carries the key_

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed_  
_Follow my lead, oh how I need_  
_Someone to watch over me_  
_Someone to watch over me_

_Okay, guys, I hope you enjoyed that song, and I'll see you both in… yep, two days, and try not to miss me __too__ much. I know it's difficult, but try anyway, and please try to get along and stay safe. Olenick ou- no, Merri, get down from the desk. No, don't step on th-"_

Malcolm stared at the PADD as the sound of Jean's voice faded. He shivered convulsively, and Trip watched him, waiting for the right moment to speak. To kill time, he took a swig of bourbon and then handed the bottle off to the Brit.

"So," the engineer finally said. "That's a pretty romantic song she picked for you."

The lieutenant had a mouthful of the whiskey and shrugged. "I suppose it is. She loves jazz."

Trip let out an annoyed breath and shook his head, suddenly wanting to grab the other man by his jacket and point out what was, at least to him, blatantly obvious. Of course, he knew that that approach wouldn't work. This called for something a bit more subtle. "D'you think maybe there was a reason she picked _that_ song for you?"

Malcolm seemed puzzled for a moment, then frowned and shook his head, handing the bottle back again. "Why would there be?"

The commander let his head fall forward, groaning into his blanket in the face of his companion's denseness. "For cryin' out loud, Malcolm. She _likes _you! I mean, '_to my heart he carries the key'_ ? How much clearer do you need her to be?"

The Brit frowned deeper this time, staring at the pilot's chair and still holding the bottle out. "You're reading too much into it, Commander. It's just a song, not a damned coded message."

Trip's frustration got the better of him and gave in to his earlier impulse, grabbing the other man by his jacket and getting in his face. "Listen to me, you pessimistic pain in the ass: she likes you. Don't ask me why, but she _does._"He let go of Reed's jacket and sat back against the ladder, watching the stunned lieutenant blink. "Any damn fool can see it," Trip went on, "I really don't know why you can't."

Malcolm seemed to believe him for a minute, relaxing slightly and letting a bit of a smile cross his face, but it didn't last. He hunched his shoulders and pulled his blanket close, avoiding eye contact. "You're wrong, Commander. If they find us in time, you can ask her yourself, but she will doubtless tell you that her choice of song _wasn't_ meant to convey any sort of message."

Trip shook his head. Maybe the lieutenant didn't want to get his hopes up, or he didn't think that he was good enough for a woman like Jean. Whatever the reason, Malcolm stubbornly refused to see what was right in front of his face. Trip smiled grimly to himself, because now he had a new reason to hope that _Enterprise _found them in time: he couldn't wait to say 'I told you so' when Jean proved the cynical Brit wrong.

* * *

**A/N: In case there is any confusion, this scene takes place right after they blow up the engine, but before Trip tries to seal himself in the airlock. All the canon events of the episode still happen, I just didn't have any changes for that section so I left it alone.**


	6. Popsicles

**Written for fun, Paramount/CBS owns the boys... you know the drill. ****Betaed by the lovely and talented LoyaulteMeLie. Reviews are much appreciated!**

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6 – Popsicles

Captain Archer was sitting in his quarters, bouncing his water polo ball off of the wall above his desk and not really paying attention to a Stanford vs. Yale game which was playing on his monitor. Two Alpha shifts had come and gone since _Enterprise _had first tried to contact Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed about the changed rendezvous. They were well into Beta shift of day two, and there was still no answer from the pod. On that first day, Jon had stayed on the Bridge after his shift ended and he was tempted to stay longer, but when he realized that Hoshi and Travis were going to follow his example, he handed the reins over to T'Pol and 'invited' both ensigns to join him in the turbolift. He smiled tightly at the thought. On the Bridge or off, as long as he was within reach of a comm panel he could get a situation report any time he liked. Senior staff and Bridge officers though they were, the ensigns weren't as fortunate. Of course, considering the efficiency of the ship's grapevine and how in tune with it Hoshi was, he was fairly certain that there would be less than an hour's lag time between T'Pol reporting any news to him and his Comm Officer hearing about it from someone.

Lieutenant Hess and her repair team had finished replacing but not installing the starboard door of Launch Bay Two that morning. Jon was sure that they had done a fine job, but until the situation with Shuttlepod One was resolved he was unwilling to drop out of warp in order to complete or inspect the repairs. He smiled to himself. That could easily wait until Trip and Malcolm were back, and he was sure that his Chief Engineer would be pleased with the work his second had done while she was in charge. His smile faded. Assuming, of course, that Trip was in any state to _be _pleased.

"T'Pol to the captain."

Jon paused the playback on his monitor with one hand while the other hand simultaneously thumbed the comm panel.

"Go ahead." Jon winced when his forgotten water polo ball bounced off of the wall and hit him in the side of his head. He grimaced slightly, rubbing at the area while he listened to his SIC.

"We're within scanning range of Shuttlepod One," T'Pol announced, and she seemed to anticipate his response, because she continued without pause. "I am reading two human bio-signs aboard, but they are faint."

The captain stood and headed for the door to his cabin, grabbing a communicator so he could keep talking to T'Pol while he made his way through the ship. He resisted the urge to ask her just how faint the life signs were, since he knew well enough that their scanners weren't calibrated for medical precision. "How long till we reach them?"

"Ten minutes at our current speed."

Jon shook his head as he stepped into the corridor. "Go to warp four-point-eight. Are they answering hails?"

"No. Their transceiver appears to be damaged, which may account for the lack of communication."

Jon nodded, walking faster and hoping that the transceiver and not his officers' faint bio-signs were to blame for the silent treatment that Pod One was giving them. "Use the grappler and bring it into Launch Bay One. Have Doctor Phlox and a medical team meet me there. What is the status of their other systems?"

T'Pol's voice came over the communicator steady as ever. "Their impulse engine is missing and I have detected traces of an explosion, but the craft is intact. Scans show two sealed hull breaches, an atmosphere aboard and that the pod's life support system is operational, however, the internal temperature is 23°F."

"Tell Phlox to be ready for two possibly hypothermic patients."

"Understood."

* * *

Sickbay was a flurry of activity. Phlox, Jean, Liz Cutler, Isaac Jenkins and another corpsman were gathering supplies and piling them onto a pair of gurneys. Liz helped Jean put a warming unit full of towels and IV bags onto one of the gurneys. Jean moved mechanically, trying to focus on the job at hand instead of worrying about the two officers who would most likely become their patients in a few minutes.

Liz put an oxygen mask and heating apparatus on the gurney they were loading and then took a container of heating pads from a drawer.

"Do we need anything else?"

Jean blinked, realizing that she had spaced out for a moment, and then looked over their supplies. "Just an IV port and needle." She smiled nervously, glancing down at her hands. "I've got 'em right here. Let's get moving."

The exobiologist nodded and turned to notify Phlox that they were heading out while Jean started pushing their gurney towards the door.

The Denobulan made a pleased sound as he continued to bustle around. "Excellent, Crewman. Comm the captain and inform him that we are on our way, and then I need you to go ahead of Jean and make sure that we have a clear path to Launch Bay One."

"Understood."

Phlox and two of the corpsmen were loading up the other gurney with identical supplies, and after the doctors had examined the officers, each team of three would be responsible for getting one of the officers to Sickbay.

Jean was barely out the door when she heard Phlox start moving his own gurney towards the hall, and she sent up a silent prayer that they wouldn't need to use the cardio stimulators on either Trip or Malcolm. She wasn't religious and never had been, but she figured that any help was welcome. She had become close to both men, but much as she liked and respected Trip, her feelings for Malcolm were much deeper. She hadn't had the nerve to say anything about it to him, at least not directly, always telling herself that the timing wasn't right or that he didn't need the distraction, but deep down she knew that the delays were really because she had just been afraid of what he might say. Or worse, what he might _not _say.

She knew that he cared about her. It had been obvious ever since their first mission to Chalderon, but she didn't know if his feelings for her were strictly platonic or not. She knew how seriously he took the regulations on fraternization, so it stood to reason that their differing ranks were likely to be an issue. When the Starfleet brass had promoted her to lieutenant before their return trip to Chalderon, she had thought that the rules were no longer an obstacle to them having a relationship, but then there had been the Enchilada Debacle. When Hoshi told her about the Englishman's stated reluctance to become involved with a crewmate and had confirmed that he didn't even mention their differing ranks as being an issue, Jean had been discouraged. She hadn't considered that Malcolm might have _personal _rules about who it was appropriate to date, although in hindsight she knew that it was something she should have expected. Hoshi had pointed out later, while helping her pick apart everything Malcolm had said during that exchange, that he had opened with the fact that they worked together, which might make matters awkward. Hoshi encouraged her, adding that since Jean only worked with him on away missions, it shouldn't be a problem. Ever since then, Jean had been dropping hints and hoping he would catch on. The fact that he _still _hadn't made a move could mean either one of two things: he got the message, but was choosing to ignore it, or for some unfathomable reason he hadn't caught on yet. Now, as she double-timed through the corridors, she realized that it didn't matter. Either way, it was up to her to make the first move, and she sure as hell was ready to do just that. Always assuming that he was still… no. She shook her head, refusing to even consider the possibility that Malcolm might not survive.

Liz came from behind her after Jean rounded the first turn, making the doctor jump as she started down the curved corridor, and Liz continued on in a uniformed blur until she was a couple of meters ahead of Jean's gurney. The crewman smiled at her and nodded back towards Sickbay, walking backwards for a few steps. "Isaac's on his way. Guess who gets to play crossing guard?"

Jean smiled back dutifully. "Too bad there's no direct route to the launch bays. I'm taking us there via the starboard corridors, since I've got a feeling that cutting through Engineering just wouldn't be kosher."

The crewman gave a nervous chuckle, checking that the next junction was clear and then nodding that they could proceed. "Probably not. Still, it's only about ninety meters from here. We'll be there in no time."

The lieutenant shook her head, hanging a right turn at the starboard deuterium conditioner room. "Right, the same 'no time' it took us to get all this stuff ready." Jean gestured to the equipment on the gurney with her chin, sighing. "Almost five minutes down the drain. ETA to the pod was ten minutes…"

Corpsman Jenkins joined them and helped her push the gurney along. He shook his head slightly, joining the conversation. "The pod still has to be brought on board and the launch bay has to re-pressurize before we can go in. That adds about five minutes. We'll probably get there before all of that is even done, and we'll end up just standing around waiting for a while."

Jean sighed again as Liz went on to check the next junction. "I know. You're probably right, Isaac, I just..."

He gave her a knowing look. "You're worried. We all are." The corpsman shook his head slightly. "I feel like I've had this conversation before, with Lieutenant Reed when he was worrying about you."

Isaac nodded when Liz gave the all clear and they turned onto the corridor which ran alongside the starboard isolation labs. Liz joined them and gave Jean a reassuring nod. "If their life signs had changed, we would have heard about it, and you know how good our medical team is. If the guys aren't okay right now, we'll make sure that they _are _okay before too long, and then, with any luck, one of you will make a move."

Cutler grinned at her after the last part, and Jean couldn't quite manage to hide an embarrassed grimace. "That obvious, huh?"

Isaac shrugged. "Pretty much to everyone who spends time with you… except for Lieutenant Reed, of course."

"Right." Jean shook her head. "'Cause _that _would only be helpful."

They arrived outside Launch Bay One less than a minute later and found Captain Archer pacing outside. He apparently didn't notice that anyone else was within earshot, because he was muttering to himself. The medical team couldn't tell what he was saying, and they didn't have time to puzzle it out because the captain noticed them as he turned on his heel and looked up.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

Phlox came forward, pushing his gurney until it drew even with Jean's and smiling benevolently. "It's quite all right, Captain. We are all concerned for the well being of Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed," he went on, not seeming to notice the look that Jean shared with Isaac and Liz. "Rest assured, we are capable of dealing with the situation at hand, whatever it may be."

There was a bifurcated indicator light by the door, similar to the ones at each airlock. The top half of it was green and the bottom half was red, and shortly after Phlox finished reassuring the captain, the green half lit up.

"Thanks, Doc." Captain Archer triggered the doors open and then stood aside to let both medical teams into the bay. Phlox and his team went first, and Jean followed.

The pod sat in its usual spot in the bay, but it looked strange with its engines missing. The four circular ports where the engine attached were visible, flanked on either side by twin triangles of duranium hull behind the wings. Jean pushed her gurney to the starboard hatch while Phlox staged his on the port side, both making sure to leave enough room for their teams to manuever. The doctors opened their respective hatches and were greeted by a gust of cold air.

A lump formed in Jean's throat when she saw Malcolm's unconscious form slumped on the deck of the pod. He and Trip were huddled together at the base of the pod's rear ladder, both wrapped in blankets and sitting on the padded lid of one of the rear storage benches, and Malcolm was loosely holding a phase pistol in his right hand. It looked like they were breathing, but she couldn't really tell. She had paused in the middle of climbing through the side hatch when Phlox called out for the captain to open the shuttle's upper hatch in order to let more heat into the small craft. Hearing the Denobulan speak snapped her back into action and she climbed the rest of the way into the pod, moving to crouch in front of Malcolm as she took out her scanner and then ran it over the Englishman. She bit the inside of her cheek while she waited for the results to come up and touched the back of her hand to his face. His skin was ice cold, and he didn't react to the contact.

"Doctor, Lieutenant Reed is dehydrated, his heartbeat is irregular and his core temperature is 84.2°F."

Phlox nodded beside her. "I'm showing the same readings for Commander Tucker, as well as signs of metabolized alcohol and elevated levels of carbon dioxide in his bloodstream."

Their temperatures were dangerously low, and she knew that it was urgent for the doctors to get them warmed up and back to Sickbay as quickly and carefully as possible. In their current state, even a slight jolt during transport could lead to cardiac arrest, so she knew it was imperative that they start the rewarming process right away.

"Liz, get me the oxygen mask and heating unit. Set the air to a temperature of 107°F, and get a mask ready for Phlox, same setting."

"On it," Liz called from outside the pod, and she handed the items through the hatch a few moments later. "Anything else?"

Phlox accepted one of the masks from Crewman Cutler and made a thoughtful sound as he scanned Trip. "I'm not detecting any signs of frostbite in either man. Crewman, please turn the shuttle's heating system back on to increase the ambient air temperature."

"Yes, Doctor." Liz climbed into the shuttle and headed for the pilot's seat. Once she was sitting, she pressed a few buttons and shook her head at the console. "It won't be simple without the engine. These displays are running on backup power, but I don't know if that'll be enough to get the environmental systems working. The power cells are pretty drained."

"Do the best you can, Liz. _Any _heat would be a big help." Jean gently looped the oxygen mask's elastic cord around Malcolm's head and made sure that the mask was seated properly before giving Phlox a nervous glance. "Do you think we should just use the masks for now? Try to make sure their temps hold steady before trying to move them?"

The older doctor nodded, smiling as he secured the second mask over Trip's face. "I think that would be wise. Considering their status and the cramped space in the Shuttlepod, we risk inadvertently causing cardiac arrest if we try to move them right now. Best to stabilize them first. We'll also use heating pads on their torsos and heated intravenous fluids. Once their temperatures have risen to about 92°F we should be able to move them safely."

She nodded back and gave a smile of her own as the shuttle started to warm up. "Thanks, Liz. That should help a little." Jean looked down at her hand and saw that it was resting on Malcolm's shoulder. The unconscious lieutenant still hadn't moved and she gave his shoulder a slight squeeze, mostly to reassure herself that he would be all right.

"Phlox?" She turned her head to look at the other doctor, who was studying his scanner readout. "Do you want to prep the IVs and heating pads while I monitor their progress, or would you rather stay to keep an eye on them?"

The Denobulan gave her a fatherly smile. "You should stay." He stood with more grace than a portly man in a smock ought to have and headed for the port hatch. Just before he climbed back out of the pod, he turned around with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Do check on Commander Tucker as well, if you have a moment."

"Oh, I don't know if I'll have time." She managed to play along with the teasing for a few seconds, then shook her head and made a shooing gesture with one hand. "You are worse than _any_ human matchmaker I've ever met."

Phlox only chuckled and climbed the rest of the way out of the pod.

Jean checked her scanner readout, which showed that Malcolm's temperature was holding steady. She shifted her body slightly to get an angle on Trip and then scanned him. His temperature was also the same, and she let out a relieved breath. A slight movement caught her eye, and she saw that Liz had followed Phlox out of the pod, leaving Jean alone with the two semi-frozen officers.

"You guys," she said, shaking her head and giving a breathy, nervous laugh. She gently uncurled Malcolm's fingers from around the phase pistol with one hand and slid the weapon from his grasp with the other. She held on to one of the lieutenant's hands and leaned away slightly to put the weapon back into its case.

"Why were you holding a weapon, hmm? Not that _you _need a reason, Mal, apart from being you." She knew better than to expect an answer from him, but talking to unconscious patients was a habit that she had picked up in med school, and she had never bothered to curb the impulse.

"Are they coming around?"

The sudden question gave her a start and she smiled shakily at the captain, feeling stupid for not noticing that he had joined her inside the pod.

She took a steadying breath and shook her head again, gesturing to the phase pistol. "No, sir. I was just wondering what Mr. Reed was doing with that in his hand."

Archer smiled at her, laugh-lines deepening around his eyes. "You can ask him soon enough." His smile faded as he looked past her and his worried gaze settled on Trip. After a moment he nodded at the oxygen mask on Trip's face. "What are those for?"

Jean glanced at her scanner readouts before answering. "The masks are giving them heated air, which stops them from losing any more heat through respiration and also helps to warm up their central nervous systems at the brainstem. It's the best non-invasive way to stabilize their temperatures."

The captain seemed to understand and he moved closer, glancing from his officers to the doctor monitoring them. "Can I help at all?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded at the captain encouragingly, moving over a little so he could join her. "Start to unwrap the blankets, but only enough so that we can unzip their jackets and uniforms. Try to move their arms as little as possible –"

"To prevent re-warming shock, I know." The captain cut her off, then he let his head drop forward and sighed. "I'm sorry, this is just…"He trailed off and sat on the rear bench next to Trip, shaking his head.

She nodded, not thrilled about being interrupted but understanding that the captain was stressed and that he hadn't meant to be rude. "I know, sir. We both have best friends who are doing good impressions of popsicles right now, but that's why Phlox and I need to get them stable instead of just whisking them off to Sickbay. We have to make sure that we give them the best chance of defrosting without any drama."

"I'm all for that." Archer leaned forwards in his seat and started gently uncurling Trip's fingers from the edges of the commander's blanket. He frowned, probably at how cold the man's skin was. "They must have had one hell of a ride out there."

"Yes, sir. I have a feeling that there may be more than just physical repercussions from whatever happened to them. As for treating their physical symptoms, Phlox and I will be putting heating pads on them, so when he's gotten everything ready and he comes back here…"

Archer smiled tightly as she trailed off. "I'll let you two work. I think… that does it." He had managed to free both edges of the blanket from Trip's hands and let the cloth fall loosely around his friend's shoulders. Jean had done the same with Malcolm's blanket while they were talking.

She almost wished that the captain would leave so that she could touch Malcolm's face again, but since Archer didn't seem to be going anywhere just yet, she settled for holding the Englishman's cold hand. She absentmindedly ran her thumb over his knuckles while checking the scanner readouts of his and Trip's vitals. If Archer noticed the affectionate gesture, he didn't comment on it.

"How are they doing?"

She was about to answer the captain's question when Phlox came back to the port hatch, talking half to himself and half to his SIC. "I had to find some way of keeping the IV bags warm while we are in here, which took some doing, but Crewman Cutler was most helpful with devising…" He trailed off when he saw the captain crouched in the pod and his face settled into an expression of mild concern. "Well, this will certainly make matters a bit more interesting."

Archer moved from his spot on the bench, giving Trip's shoulder a gentle squeeze as he stood. "I'll get out of your way, Doctor." He moved toward the pilot's seat and started pressing buttons on the console. A few data chips slid out of their ports and Archer picked them up, his expression grave as he put them into one of his uniform pockets. "Maybe Hoshi can find a clue to what happened by looking in the comm logs. I'm sure T'Pol will find something useful in the sensor data."

Jean was only half listening to the captain. On some level she knew that ignoring her CO was rude, but just then she couldn't manage to care. Her focus was on stabilizing the two officers.

Phlox had hung two IV bags from the rungs of the pod's rear ladder. Each bag was held in a heated pouch set to 99°F, and Phlox was in the process of putting a peripheral IV line in one of the veins on the back of Trip's left hand. Jean started to do the same for Malcolm's right hand, since she could reach that one more easily. She cleaned his skin with a sterile swab, then inserted a needle and catheter into the largest vein she could find, trying not to think about how cold and limp his hand was. He didn't even flinch when the needle went in. She pushed her concern aside, focusing on doing her job instead of indulging in useless worrying. Jean disposed of the needle and taped the connecting hub in place before starting to hook the IV line up to it. Once she was done, she glanced over at Phlox and saw that he had nearly finished setting up his patient with warmed fluids.

The doctor glanced over at Jean as he emptied a syringe into Trip's IV port. "I'm giving Mr. Tucker an IV push of 400cc's of 5% dextrose in normal saline, and setting his drip for 85cc's per hour. I recommend the same dosages for Mr. Reed."

She mustered a faint smile and did as the doctor instructed. "Understood." She was nearly done putting Malcolm's drip at the proper speed when she heard a soft 'click'. A quick glance towards the sound showed her that Phlox had closed the sharps container which held the needles which they had each used to insert the IVs. "So, hot packs?"

The Denobulan studied his scanner for a moment and then nodded at her. "Yes, I believe we are ready for that. However, we must be _very_ careful when moving their arms. Even with the warm fluids, they are still in a fragile state, so we should only move the limbs into which we inserted the fluid lines."

Jean nodded her agreement. If the doctors moved either man's extremities while their core temperatures were so low, the even colder blood in Trip's and Malcolm's limbs would be pumped into their hearts and cause the rewarming shock which Captain Archer had mentioned, which would lower their overall temperatures and affect cardiac rhythm. At worst, rewarming shock could even cause a fatal heart arrhythmia, which was why the medical team had brought a set of cardio-stimulators along with their other equipment. Of course, everyone hoped that they wouldn't need to use that particular tool, but they wanted to be ready for any eventuality.

Phlox made a pleased sound. "Aha, Mr, Tucker's temperature has risen to 86.9°F."

Jean checked her scanner and smiled, feeling relief wash over her. "Lieutenant Reed's temperature has risen as well. I'm reading exactly 87°F." She looked down at the deck and spotted one of the warming units by Phlox's knee. A pile of heating pads was resting on top of the unit. The heating pads were large enough that only three of them would fit on each man's torso, so the doctors had a total of six pads.

The other doctor was nodding happily. "Yes, the warmed air and fluids are doing a fine job. We'll start using the heating pads now." He looked up at her and gave one of his characteristic grins. "At this rate, we should be able to transport them to Sickbay in less than twenty minutes."

She started to move from her seat on the bench in order to grab some of the heating pads, but found that Captain Archer was handing half of them to her before she even stood up. She smiled at him gratefully. The pads were warm in her hand, and she realized that the captain had already switched them on. "Thank you, sir."

Archer nodded to her. "Anything for my officers." He looked at the port side hatch and turned to Phlox. "Doctor, should I tell Cutler and the rest of your team to stand by?"

"Thank you, Captain. That would be most helpful."

The captain nodded again and reached past Phlox to give Trip's shoulder a light touch. After a moment he removed his hand and headed for the open hatchway. "Take care of them for me, Doc."

Phlox nodded solemnly. "Of course, Captain."

Still holding the heating pads, Jean checked that they were set to the right temperature and then she unzipped Malcolm's jacket and his uniform with her free hand. Working quickly, she unzipped his uniform jumpsuit as far as she could without moving him and carefully placed one of the pads on the lower part of his abdomen. She pulled up his jumpsuit's zipper far enough to hold the first pad in place, carefully put two more pads side by side on his chest and positioned them so that one upper corner of each was tucked between Malcolm's side and his arm. Her hand stilled for a moment against Malcolm's chest as she felt the steady, reassuring rise and fall of his breathing. She slipped out of 'professional' mode and reached over to brush a bit of his hair back from his forehead, murmuring softly, "You're going to be okay."

He didn't react at all and she shook her head, scolding herself for getting carried away. This wasn't the time _or _the place for affectionate behavior.

She zipped Malcolm's uniform up and made sure that the jumpsuit was holding the heating pads in place. It was, and she gave a pleased nod before zipping up his jacket most of the way to help keep the heat close to his body. She left the top quarter of his jacket undone and moved towards the warming unit.

When she got close to her superior's elbow, she felt that she should say something to him so he would know that she was in such close proximity. He seemed to take everything in stride and she had never seen him jump in surprise, but there was always a first time and she didn't want to risk startling him when they were in such cramped quarters. "Everything going okay, Phlox?"

The doctor smiled as he finished putting the remaining heating pads between Trip's uniform and the man's black undershirt. "Yes, yes. Splendidly."

Pretty much anyone else would have used a sarcastic tone when they said that, but not Phlox. Jean smiled and shook her head a tiny bit. When she was first working with him, Phlox's enthusiasm had occasionally annoyed her, but over time she had not only gotten used to it but had actually grown to find it oddly comforting and even amusing at times. She didn't know if the cheerfulness was a Denobulan cultural thing or part of his individual personality, but the reason didn't matter. It was just his way.

She took a towel out of the warming unit and moved back towards Malcolm's still form. His breathing had improved during the last couple of minutes, and as she got closer he started shivering. She knew that change meant that he was warming up and she wanted to scan him again to see what his vitals were, but the towel in her hands wouldn't stay warm for very long and she wanted to put it into place while it would still be useful. Fortunately, there was a second pair of hands at her disposal.

"Liz?" Jean raised her voice slightly, turning towards the starboard hatch when she spoke. "Please scan Lieutenant Reed's vitals."

"Of course, Doctor." Crewman Cutler climbed into the pod a few moments later and picked up Jean's scanner.

Jean wrapped the warmed towel around Malcolm's neck like a scarf and tucked the ends of it into the front of his jacket, which she then zipped up to his chin. "Liz? What's the word?"

Cutler was running the scanner over Malcolm. "Doctor, his temperature is 89.6°F and climbing steadily at a rate of 0.1°F every minute."

Jean nodded and her worry continued to decrease as Malcolm's temperature climbed. "And the Commander?"

Liz aimed her scanner at him and gave a nod of her own. "Exactly the same, 89.6°F and rising 0.1°F per minute."

Phlox sat back from checking Trip's oxygen mask and smiled. "Excellent progress. Crewman, have the team stage one gurney on either side of the shuttle and position them so that the IV holders are as close to the hatchways as possible. By the time everything is in position, we should be ready to begin transport."

"Understood, Doctor." Liz handed the scanner back to Jean and picked up the warming unit before she exited the pod.

Jean accepted the scanner and turned to look at Malcolm for a moment. When she spoke, her voice wasn't nearly as steady as she wanted it to be. "Phlox, do you think they'll be okay?"

"Certainly." The Denobulan nodded, glancing down at his scanner readings as he spoke, and at first she wasn't sure if he had picked up on the worry in her voice. However, after a few seconds he turned to look at her with a calm but determined expression on his face. "We will make sure that they are."

* * *

Layout of E Deck courtesy of and Android Monkey. Pretty pretty pictures of the NX-01 for useful and geeky fun.

Procedures for rescuing and treating hypothermic patients courtesy of , a very informative site.


End file.
