The Reply

Title: The Reply  
Author: Medie  
E-mail: medison@thezone.net  
Feedback: oh yes yes yes yes yes! (that answer your question? *G*)  
Rating: G  
Keywords: Reed fic.   
Summary: Malcolm sends his reply  
Disclaimers: Enterprise belongs not to Paramount. Not me. Otherwise, *happy  
sigh* I'd be filthy stinkin' rich! *G* Heather Grayson does belong to me but  
her family lineage does not.   
  
Author's note: Thank you Feathers for your beta and your suggestions. You've  
been a tremendous help!  
  
Also, about Heather, as I said above, her family doesn't belong to me as Heather's  
brother will become, if my calculations about the timeline are right, Amanda  
Grayson's grandfather and Spock's great-grandfather. Just thought it would be   
fun to tie the two Enterprises together a little. (Though, that idea is not  
mine. I blame Azar, a friend for it)   
  
The Reply  
by M.  
---------  
  
He ate dinner in his quarters that night, wanting privacy to compose his letter.  
Having spent most of the day thinking about what to say when he finally sat down  
at his desk, words refused to come.  
  
He listened to Heather's letter another time, reclining back in his chair, only   
half-hearing the words. The rest of his mind was occupied with memories of their  
friendship and the times they'd spent together.   
  
It had never surprised him that she was so comfortable working with the Vulcans   
or they with her. She'd always had a gift for making those around her feel   
accepted and in turn, they accepted her. It was a talent that went hand in   
hand with her work as a diplomat. Though she merely functioned as the   
Ambassador's aide, he'd no doubt Heather had contributed to his work far  
beyond that of her job's duties.   
  
Smiling faintly, he picked up the picture of her that he kept on the desk. .  
  
"Computer, begin recording transmission, addressed to Heather Grayson,  
Diplomatic Aide to Ambassador Selish of Vulcan..."  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, Malcolm fixed his eyes on the smiling face in the  
photograph and began to speak.  
  
"Dearest Heather..."  
  
-----  
  
Shi-Kahr, Vulcan  
Personal Estate of Ambassador Selish  
  
The heat of the morning sun pounded down on the human woman's blonde head as  
she walked through the front gates of the estate and through the well-kept   
grounds.   
  
Deliberately, Heather Grayson kept her head down and her eyes away from the  
sun's glare as she hurried toward the front door of the house. In her few   
years on the planet, she'd never entirely adjusted to the heat, even the   
supposed cool of early morning was too hot for her comfort and she had   
developed the habit of spending most of the day inside - venturing out only  
after the heat of the midday. The scant time she spent outdoors in the day   
was almost always passed in the process of rushing from a house to a ground  
car or one building to another.  
  
When the door of the house closed behind her, the slim woman exhaled a   
breath and closed her eyes to enjoy the cool of the front hall against her   
heated skin.  
  
After a moment, she heard the sound of shoes on the marbled floors and her   
eyes opened again to see a member of the House staff moving forward to take  
her light cloak.  
  
As always, Heather smiled and held it out. "Thank you Suvin."   
  
The elderly Vulcan woman offered a gesture of welcome and turned to whisk   
the cloak out of sight, leaving behind the aide who found herself fighting  
back laughter. "One of these days, Suvin," she murmured quietly, advancing  
further into the house. "I will coax you into speaking."  
  
—  
"Morning, T!Theilah!" Cheerfully, she called the greeting as she walked into  
the Ambassador's office.   
  
Appearing from the other room, the slim Vulcan nodded in return. "Heather."   
She crossed to her desk and picked up the morning's correspondence. "Something  
came for you." Her alert gaze watched the human's face as she added. "From the  
Enterprise."  
  
"Malcolm!" The reserve Heather adopted around most of her alien coworkers   
vanished at the news and a smile of pure delight wreathed her features. "He  
replied?"  
  
T!Theilah nodded again, holding out the data chip to her friend before leaving  
through the same door she had entered in a silent offer of privacy.  
  
Heather waited a half second before all but running to the computer.  
  
In seconds, Malcolm's rich voice filled the large room and she dropped down in  
her chair, eyes closing as if to let it wash over her.  
  
"Dearest Heather..."   
  
She couldn't believe how good it was to hear him speak. She'd forgotten the   
power his voice had always held over her. She could have listened to him talk  
for hours, just to hear the rise and fall, the way it washed over her and   
enthralled her.  
  
Nothing had changed.   
  
"You can't possibly believe how surprised I was to receive your letter...and  
to the return address listed as Vulcan...you have quite a deal of explaining  
to do my dear."   
  
She laughed at that. "Look who's talking, Mr. I-Got-Assigned-To-Enterprise."  
With a shake of her head, she rose from her chair and walked to the window -  
her gaze going to the Llangon hills while her ears remained firmly locked on  
Malcolm's voice.   
  
"I cannot even begin to imagine what that must be like." He continued, the   
tone of his voice betraying his intense curiosity. "Perhaps you could be   
persuaded to send a few pictures. I would very much like to see where you   
are living."  
  
"And getting a peek at the Vulcan homeworld would have *nothing* to do with  
it, right Malcolm?" She asked with a chuckle, glancing over her shoulder.   
  
The Englishman's husky chuckle echoed her own, sending a shiver down her   
spine. God, that man . . . Light years away from each other and he still had  
the power to make her melt in her shoes. Sometimes, she'd wondered what would   
have happened, if their friendship had become...more. Given the power he had   
over her now, she could only imagine...  
  
"And yes, I must confess, I'm quite curious about Vulcan. One of these days,   
you may find I take you up on your offer to visit."  
  
"God, I hope so." She murmured quietly.  
  
"I suspect you would make the perfect tour guide providing - of course - you   
wear one of those rather adorable uniforms, with your coloring dark blue would  
be best I should think." The teasing statement had its desired effect as   
Heather laughed aloud.   
  
"Shameless."  
  
As was his way, after his joke, Malcolm smoothly shifted to a new topic.   
"You asked about how I'm doing here...I can't begin to describe this place.  
It is quite literally the opportunity of a lifetime." He chuckled ruefully.  
"Even if the Captain insists on taking liberties with his safety."   
  
"Now that sounds like a story waiting to be told." She murmured, sensing the  
frustration hidden beneath the laughter. Nothing worse for a security officer,  
she knew, than a charge who ignored his own safety.  
  
"It does get a bit frustrating," he continued, "I've been charged with the man's  
safety yet he disregards my suggestions at every turn. He is very much a hands  
on person, you see, but I can't seem to convince him to take...precautions. Not  
everyone out here has our best interests at heart."  
  
Polite way of saying not everyone in space felt like saying hello before they   
shot at you, she thought darkly, again battling that fear for her friend's safety.  
This was what Malcolm had dreamt of doing and she knew he was happy to have the   
chance, happy to be among the stars; but that didn't stop her from fearing the   
worst.   
  
Working with the Ambassador had given her first-hand knowledge of what kind  
of enemies the Enterprise could run into, and she dreaded the day when someone  
came to tell her that something had gone wrong...  
  
With a shake of her head, she pushed away those fears and determinedly refocused  
on Malcolm's letter.  
  
"You are right, Heather, there are simply some things that I cannot tell you about,  
but my crewmates would not be among those. They are an unusual lot, I suspect the   
news has focused primarily on the Captain, Sub-Commander T!Pol, and Commander Tucker,  
so allow me a moment to tell you about the others. Our Communications officer, for   
example."  
  
He chuckled. "You confused her dreadfully, you know. She's quite curious to know who  
my friend on Vulcan is now. Every time I see her, I can see the question lurking in  
her eyes. It's a testament to her self control that she hasn't asked again, Hoshi   
is a very inquisitive person. I suspect you and she would be grand friends."   
  
"I like her already." Heather laughed softly. Inquisitive...Malcolm-speak for   
intensely curious. Very much like an anthropologist he knew. "Remind me to ask  
about her when I reply."  
  
"She's an incredibly talented linguist, Heather. Saved our lives a number of times  
and yet is completely unaware of how important to this mission she is. Oh, she's   
well aware that Captain Archer needs a translator, and a highly skilled one,   
but she doesn't seem to believe she's *that* person." He sighed ruefully. "Rather  
sounds like someone else I know."  
  
"Oh don't start." The listening woman groused with a laugh. "I'm much more secure  
in myself than I used to be. Living on Vulcan damn near makes that an essential quality."  
  
"One of these days, I suppose, I should arrange an introduction." Malcolm decided  
then his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "But at the moment, I think I  
shall keep you all to myself."  
  
She shivered again, the reaction to his tone racing along her spine at Warp 2.   
"Damn that man." She muttered with a wry grin. "I'm supposed to be a calm and   
composed anthropologist, nothing's supposed to faze me. Certainly not the   
sexy-as-hell voice of a Starfleet lieutenant!" Smiling, she returned to her  
desk and picked up the photo of herself and Malcolm that she kept there. "Keep  
me to yourself all you want, my friend," Heather murmured affectionately. "You  
won't hear me complaining."   
  
"I don't recall you ever mentioning if you knew anything about Denobulans," The  
lieutenant in question continued on as if he hadn't heard her which, of course,  
he hadn't. "But our doctor is a Denobulan and a bit of an anthropologist in his  
own right." The suppressed humor she heard in his voice brought a grin to her   
face. "You and he would get along quite well, I believe. Sometimes I believe the  
only person who could truly answer most of his questions would be an anthropologist  
or, at least, an anthropologist would be about the only person he couldn't possibly  
offend. Dr. Phlox has a rather charming habit of asking the most personal of   
questions and not realizing he has strayed into forbidden territory. He once asked  
Trip, that's Commander Tucker, if he thought that two crew members wouldn't mind him  
watching them *mate*."  
  
Heather barely managed to clamp a hand over her mouth before the strangled laugh   
escaped her. "You're right, Malcolm," she giggled after her initial reaction had   
passed. "That is a rather...charming habit."  
  
"He is settling in quite nicely. Some of the crew were a bit uncomfortable with an  
alien doctor at first, I believe, but Phlox is a rather personable fellow so it's   
hard not to like the man." There was a pause then Malcolm admitted. "Though his   
methods can be rather unusual."  
  
"Rather unusual, huh?" Heather rested her chin in her palm and raised a Vulcan-like  
eyebrow at the picture. "Why am I getting the feeling that's a massive understatement?"  
  
"I know what you're thinking," He agreed, his grin readily apparent in his voice.   
"That I'm making quite the understatement...I am, to be honest. Phlox apparently   
believes the use of leeches is a treatment quite acceptable for the 22nd Century."  
  
"Leeches?" She made a face. "Ugh."  
  
Malcolm's soft laughter told her that he knew exactly what her reaction to that  
one would be and she quietly resolved to hit him the next time she saw him. After  
that, he deserved it.   
  
"I know, I'll pay for that one." He told her in amusement. "But I do wish I   
could have seen the look on your face."  
  
"I'll bet you do." She muttered, smiling despite her tone. "I wish I could   
see your face period." Sitting back in her chair, she tried to conjure up an  
image of his face and was rewarded by the picture of his smiling face, lit   
by the soft lighting of the café they had frequented in San Francisco.   
  
"Let's see, which of my shipmates haven't I...ah yes. Mr. Mayweather." Malcolm  
continued with a chuckle. "He's a rather enthusiastic young man, a 'Boomer' as  
they're called, grew up on these ships. Very friendly gentleman, you'd be   
quite enamored of his ghost stories. I haven't heard him tell one personally  
but I have it in good assurance that he can be quite entertaining. Perhaps   
I'll ask him to record one and send it to you. As I recall, you always did   
enjoy a good fright."  
  
The smug tone of his voice earned a baleful glare. "You mean *you* enjoyed   
*giving* me a good fright." She accused with a laugh. "As *I* recall, you   
particularly enjoyed throwing me in the nearest body of water."   
  
Her old friend continued on and she smiled at his satisfied tone. "They're a  
grand bunch of people, Heather. Couldn't ask for better company out here...  
well, I could, but she's quite occupied with her own work."  
  
Her face softened and she leaned forward, touching the picture of him. "If   
you did...she'd say yes." Heather had come to love living on Vulcan, she   
loved the planet and the people, but it wasn't entirely home. She still  
missed waking up to a blue sky and the sounds of the harbor and all that   
came with. Homesickness sometimes assailed so badly she could barely stand   
it. Hearing the voice of an old friend brought out a completely different   
kind of yearning.   
  
She wanted to see him again. The longer he talked, the stronger the desire  
became. With a sniff, she wiped away a tear and smiled. "I'm glad you've got  
such good friends out there, Malcolm." She told the letter softly. "Friends   
make all the difference out here."  
  
"Given all the contact we've been having with the Vulcans lately," Malcolm   
noted, almost hopefully. "Perhaps we'll see each other sooner than we think.  
The chances of it happening are very good I suspect."  
  
"You know something I don't?" She questioned the air with a smile, the hope   
in her heart clearly as strong as it was in his voice. "But I sincerely hope  
so, my friend, I sincerely hope so."  
  
"Alas, fair lady," the Starfleet officer teased, "Duty calls and I expect you've  
a ton of work piling up. As you say, the Vulcans do enjoy their paperwork and I  
wouldn't want you to be buried by it.."  
  
"Heaven sakes no," Heather laughed. "Then you'd have to come dig me out..." Her  
expression became musing. "That's not a half bad idea, come to think of it."  
  
"I look forward to your reply, my friend," he continued with a softening tone.   
"Be well."  
  
"You too." She murmured as the letter automatically turned itself off.   
  
----  
  
She wasn't sure how long she sat there before the comm unit on her desk  
chimed.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Heather?" T'Theilah's voice was soft but cautious. Clearly she was wondering   
if her friend was ready to talk.  
  
"Yeah, can I help you?" Heather, as if just remembering she had work to do,   
pushed herself from her chair and hurried to the mirror. In the time she'd   
been working with the Vulcans, she'd always taken the greatest of care to   
appear as composed and neat as possible. The innate formality of the species  
had propelled her to be quite diligent in it.   
  
"You have an appointment with the Ambassador in thirty minutes." Her Vulcan   
assistant prompted. "You and he are scheduled to meet with the Andorian Ambassador."  
  
"Oh brother." The slim blonde muttered softly; aloud she replied with, "Thank   
you for the reminder, my friend. I'll gather up the necessary documentation   
and escort the Ambassador to the meeting."  
  
"Understood." T'Theilah replied crisply before the comm unit fell silent.  
  
Returning to her desk, Heather looked at the photo on its glossy surface.   
"And then, Malcolm, you'll get your reply." Kissing one fingertip, she   
reached out to brush it across his face. "Be safe, my friend. Be safe."  
  
Finis 


End file.
