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A few months before Malcolm and T'Pol leave for a mission...Hoshi twisted around a little in her seat to discretely catch Archer's eye. He rose and sauntered over.“Captain I have a personal call coming in for Lieutenant Reed, the caller says it's important sir.” Archer pursed his lips briefly in surprise, Malcolm rarely received unscheduled personal calls.“Alright, things are quiet here.” He motioned for Malcolm to come over and see for himself.“It's from Dieter Visser.” Malcolm frowned slightly to himself.“That's my brother-in-law sir, I don't think he wouldn't arrange a callback or leave a message unless it was important sir.” Archer nodded.“Okay Malcolm, call your relief to the bridge and you can use the briefing room.”“Thank you Captain.” A few moments later he strode out as Ensign Marteaux took up his station, frown deepening as the doors closed. Why would Madeline's husband need to speak to him immediately? He was very good friends with Dieter, but he'd never before contacted Enterprise outside of their scheduled calls. With a distinct feeling of apprehension he settled in the anonymous briefing room and activated the call.The familiar choppy blond hair and bristly chin of his brother-in-law coalesced as the Starfleet logo faded. But the normal sunny twinkle was absent from his eyes, Dieter looked pale as if he'd had the stuffing knocked out of him. The sinking feeling in his stomach only solidified.
"Hey Malcolm," his voice was hoarse and slow.
"Hi Dieter. Are you alright? Has something happened?" Dieter took a deep, deep breath.
"I'm sorry. It's Madeline,” he whispered shakily. She.... she's dead." One despairing look at Dieter confirmed this hideous news was painfully true. Malcolm's dark hair filled his view as the man in uniform dropped his head with the blow.“Oh no. Maddy.” Dieter's eyes filled again at the raw agony in his voice. Malcolm felt cold and breathless, as if he was suddenly on the wrong side of the hull without a spacesuit. Dieter didn't try to say anything, he knew exactly how Malcolm was feeling; shocked and adrift. The loss was so total.Malcolm sucked in a breath. Had Stuart reached out finally as he'd threatened to all those years ago?
"It was an accident," Dieter supplied, as if reading Malcolm's thoughts. He could feel the pain being transmitted billions of light years through space to the Englishman, far away from home and those he loved.
"Tell me what happened Die." Malcolm ordered in a thick voice."She was killed in an avalanche while we were on holiday skiing. She died on Saturday, in the evening." His eyes shut for a moment in pain and took another very deep breath.
"The Thursday before I'd just finished a design piece, the client was really pleased with my concept, it all went really well and I got it finished a week earlier than I'd planned. I didn't need to start my next commission immediately so I decided to take Madeline away. Surprise her, you know? Give her a little break from being at work and being a mum.I found a really nice skiing holiday. Just three nights, not too far away in the Pyrenees in France. I arranged for one of Lauren's best friend's parents to take her after school for four nights and I bought Maddy some ski gear and hid it in my suitcase. When she came home I just told her to pack for three days - warm clothes. I didn't tell her exactly what for until we'd arrived. She was over the moon, literally jumping around for joy. You know how she'd always dreamed of skiing.” Malcolm nodded with a fleeting and strained smile.
“The first morning after we'd arrived, I'd pre-booked Maddy four hours of lessons, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. I saw her to the class and then went off to the slopes. I saw her at lunchtime and she was loving it. Well she was certainly ravenous and really thrilled. It was a beautiful place, the sun was shining, it was wonderful. Anyway, after a little walk around town together I went off to a good blue-run I wanted to do again and I dropped her back with the instructor. They were going to start on turns.A couple of hours later, about half four, I decided to stop for the day. There was another hour and a half of light but I didn't want to abuse my muscles too much the first day. I went past her group and she seemed to be doing well, I saw her do a few turns on her way down the training slope. That reminds me, let me send you this photo.I called out to her that I was hitting the shower and I'd see her back in our room when she was done. She said 'cool', they were going to do one more descent. I said 'how's it going', and I took this photo as she replied.”The photo showed Maddy on her skis, an enormous pink bobble on her hat, grinning widely at the cameraman, giving two big thumbs up from her gloved hands. Dieter wiped his eyes again and went on. “I laughed, said 'see you'. She blew me a kiss.” He paused to compose himself again, seeing his grief reflected in Malcolm's eyes.“I went back to our chalet, had a shower and a soak in the hot tub. When I got out it was about five forty-five, almost totally dark outside and she wasn't back yet. I was a bit worried but I thought maybe she'd got chatting with the instructor or made friends in the class. But half an hour later, still nothing and no messages, so I headed back out to the slopes.That's when I heard the sirens. I asked someone when I got closer and they said there'd been an avalanche. Completely unexpected. It took out the whole slope, ski-lift and even a few houses. I think about 50 people died altogether – and it was just rotten luck Maddy-” he choked off abruptly.Malcolm shook his head in sorrow, his face creased with the harshest pain.“Oh Die, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”“Not really. I'm just getting through a day at a time you know? At least I've got Lauren, so I have to get out of bed and make food and try to do normal stuff for her.”“How's she?”“A bit quiet. She cries sometimes – I think she understands mummy's really not coming back. It's tough.”There was a long, long silence.“Are you guys okay for credits?” Dieter nodded.“Yeah we have good savings and Maddy had life insurance through her job – so we've no worries on that score for a long while. I've put off my next commission for the time being too, so I can be there for Lauren until she goes back to school.”“Okay, promise me you'll ask me if you need anything though.”“I will Mal, I will, thank you. Will you be able to come and see us the next shore leave you get?”“Of course, but I'm sorry it'll probably not be for six months.” Dieter nodded ruefully, life in space exploration certainly had its drawbacks.“I understand. Anytime you want to call and talk don't hesitate all right? I hate to think of you on your own out there.”“I will Die, I will I promise. And I've got good friends up here, I'm not completely on my own.” He switched tracks for a moment.“Look I was going to remind Maddy – but a certain person might be active again from the 20th. I was going to tell her to be on her guard. I think you should be aware too.”Dieter looked surprised. “You don't think he's still a danger do you?”Malcolm shrugged. “I really, really hope not. It's been a long, long time and he's pretty old now, probably there's nothing to worry about, but you know me, no unnecessary chances. He'll know about Maddy,” his throat closed for a moment, “I assume?”“I doubt it actually. The authorities would only notify next of kin and obviously he isn't. I told them I'd tell you. He doesn't know where we live anyway.”“He could find out if he wanted to though I'm afraid. Anyway, don't worry about that, let me take care of that at least for you and Lauren. I've got some good friends working on it already, just to keep an eye on things. I've told them to contact you if they need to and they can't get hold of me okay? If they ask for Cheshire Cat they're with me and you can trust them.”Dieter smiled wanly at the cloak and dagger, but he knew Malcolm was just looking out for them and for all he knew probably had been since Stuart went to jail.“I've got it. Lauren keeps asking if uncle Malcolm is okay so you look after yourself too.”“I'll send a message for her, poor poppet. Thanks for calling me. I really wish I could come and see you now.”“Yeah me too bro. It's good to see you anyhow.”“Thanks for the photo. I know she couldn't have been happier than with you. You're a good man. I love you and Lauren, I'll always be here for you.”“I know Mal and likewise. Apart from Lauren, you're the only family I've got.”“Always.” They held each other's eyes until the screen faded to black.Once the connection was closed, Malcolm found himself staring blankly out of the window unable to take it in. His sister, his closest friend, the person who knew him best was gone. He messaged the Captain's console and asked for permission not to return for the last hour of his shift. Archer agreed immediately – it didn't take much to guess an unexpected call like that wasn't going to be good news.Pushing himself away from the table his limbs felt leaden. The close confines of the Enterprise's corridors which usually felt familiar and comforting, seemed distant and insubstantial as he drifted to his quarters.
Archer beckoned T'Pol, Hoshi and Trip over before they left at the shift change. Without speaking, he gestured that they should read the message he had received. 'With great sorrow I have to inform you that my wife Madeline Visser (nee Reed), only sister of Lieutenant Reed, died on Saturday, stardate 29384.2. She was one of 59 victims of a sudden avalanche. The funeral has already been held. I hope that you will help me to bring comfort to her brother Malcolm, while he is so far away from us. Kind regards, Dieter Visser'.
A mission, several months later
“Any questions?” Archer scanned round his senior staff, particularly Reed and T'Pol who would be accompanying him on this away mission. A chorus of 'no sirs' was returned.
“Good. Then we'll meet at the transporter room in two hours.”
When he was returned, barely stable on his feet, supported by two guards, she was astonished to see his mouth was bloodied and a swelling over one cheekbone – promising a later black eye. He'd been taken to be interrogated by mind-meld, how could he possibly have required violence from someone who could read his mind?
He folded fairly ungracefully to the tiled floor. While a weapon was still held on them, water and two bowls of food were placed on the table. The guards withdrew. She went over to where Reed was lying. If he was badly hurt she had nothing much to offer in the way of first aid, but fortunately other than a nosebleed she couldn't see any other injuries.
“Malcolm?” He rolled his eyes tiredly in her direction.
“There is food and water. Can you stand?” Silently he nodded, but reached out an arm to her for help rising. She had to support quite a lot of his weight as he struggled exhaustedly to get to his feet. She steered him over to one of the bolted down chairs. Unable to balance upright he had to lean one elbow heavily on the table. She sat, forced by the fixed chair to sit opposite and they began to eat. It was some kind of stew, still hot, the taste not unpleasant.
“D'you know what this is?” She looked up. He was eating, very slowly, neither looking thrilled nor disgusted by the taste, just tired. He was either filling the silence or genuinely curious.
“It's called tarvek stew. It's a popular traditional dish, it's cheap and filling.” After a pause that said she'd come to the end of her portion sooner than her belly would have liked she added. “Usually.”
She looked up again at a scraping sound. Malcolm was pushing the last quarter portion of his bowl towards her.
“Thank you, but finish it please Malcolm. You may not like it but you need to eat.” More than I do, she thought but didn't say. He looked at her blearily but without argument dragged the bowl back and slowly ploughed through it. She made him drink some water, but as soon as he'd had enough, he crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down on them, breathing deeply.
“Are you in pain?” He nodded slowly.
“My head's starting to hurt.”
“What happened?” He raised his head and gestured at the floor, holding his arm out to her again. She helped him up and then lowered him to the ground to sit.
“Mind-meld.” She waited for more. She had to wait a while.
“I don't think they got what they wanted.” She raised her eyebrows.
“How did you-? You're not a telepath, resisting a mind-meld is impossible.”
“I didn't resist.”
“You didn't resist? I don't understand.” She waited again while he gathered his thoughts from wherever they'd been scattered. It took even longer, and now she was worried. His nosebleed had stopped and although the skin around one eye was swelling, she couldn't see that he'd been abused physically. What had happened to his mind? Had he deliberately been allowed to think that he'd successfully resisted? Or could there be any way it was true?
“No. He got in all right. Like a hot knife through butter. But I don't remember him getting to where he wanted. I kept him busy.” This was insane. Malcolm was slumping down the wall, nearly horizontal on the floor. He was clearly exhausted or hurt. But even for a telepath, if a mind-meld was forcibly imposed, it would be almost impossible to hide for very long. As much as she'd studied and prepared mental blocks and shields, she knew that a mind-meld offered an infinite number of ways around them. And for a non-telepath, shields wouldn't even exist. His mind would have been an open book.
“I took him to a place where I've been trapped before.” His voice was weakening and it shook a little, she thought.
“I took him down there with me immediately and I kept him there.” He coughed and spat blood.
“But they'll come back. They'll come back. They'll come back. . .” He sounded close to panic. Uncharacteristic panic. Something was very wrong.
She closed the gap and sat so she could prop him up a little and he wasn't just lying on the hard floor. She felt this was definitely a time when physical contact might be beneficial. She'd had unwilling mind-melds performed on her and it had taken many counselling sessions and much meditation to soothe her psyche. For a blind-mind – well she was astonished he was even walking and talking. The possibility that the guards would have returned a Reed-shaped vegetable of a man had been the highest probability. That he still knew who he was and could even speak and eat was little short of miraculous. Quite apart from even the slightest chance he'd actually resisted interrogation by a Vulcan!
“I won't think about that right now.” He suddenly declared clearly.
“My head really hurts.” And with that she felt more and more of his weight lean onto her, until she lay him down, asleep, or at least unconscious.
Her mind remained active for a while. They couldn't overpower the well-armed guards. There was no apparent way out. While Reed looked the easier target, they might not waste time interrogating her. But she didn't know what state he would be in tomorrow, and in two day's time whatever information they had would be worthless to the Vulcans. Mind-melds were very draining, they were having to waste precious time now allowing Reed to rest and regain some strength.
For a moment it looked as if they wouldn't even have to wait until tomorrow. After just a few hours the door opened to admit three guards and the lieutenant was unceremoniously yanked upright. He began struggling even before his eyes opened and he came fully awake. But the guards nonetheless manhandled him to the solid table and used it to bend him over and lean on him. Pinned immobile a hypospray was injected to his neck, then he was released and they left as quickly and efficiently as they'd entered.
Malcolm didn't move for a few moments, then tiredly pulled his arms from where they'd been twisted behind his back and began to push himself up and off the table top. He shook his head a few times, still half-asleep. Before his swaying could turn into collapse, she took his arm and helped him to the nearest corner of the cell and sat him down. He met her eyes briefly, but just shrugged. As his eyes closed again she patted his arm helplessly.
An hour or so later he started awake, trembling. Gently she coaxed him back and held him lightly, leaning his head back onto her shoulder.
“Talk to me!” He gasped. “I can't think straight – everything's moving.” Obeying she tried to give him a positive focus.
“You are in control of your mind.” She repeated trying to soothe his agitation and fear.
“You are in control of your thoughts. Try to slow your breathing Malcolm, listen to mine and try to do the same.” Gradually she soothed his anxiety attack, but she knew the next interrogation must be imminent. He would have been dosed with an hallucinogen and perhaps a tranquilliser to make him lose control of his mind; be more suggestible and eliminate any further possibility of resistance.
It wouldn't be long now.
Post Mission
T'lda reached out and cautiously put her fingers lightly onto Malcolm's face. One at a time, with the gentlest pressure she needed to make the contact. One at his temple, one near the hairline and one on the bone of the jaw. He didn't flinch she was pleased to see, and he'd closed his eyes of his own volition before she'd finished the ritual words.
“My mind to your mind.”
Inside, the world was as she'd feared; current emotions and thoughts floating bright and precise around a black hole, one of the most insulated of dark boxes she'd ever encountered. She took her time, gently exploring the limits, mostly just getting him used to her presence. Mind's had character, manners and even an individual flavour, just like their owner. The sooner he could recognise and trust her the better.
She tried projecting a few words to him, but clearly there was too much psychic scar tissue for it to be that easy. This was going to be a challenge and without his cooperation, it might even be impossible, but she shielded that thought especially carefully. A positive attitude was going to be essential. She explored until she felt the vibration of the timer she'd set for 15 minutes and then gently withdrew from him.
When he opened his eyes, she smiled encouragingly.
“You knew when I'd left?”
“Yes. Um there was less pressure in my head and,” he struggled for adjectives, “it was emptier,” he ended.
“Excellent. It is good that you have that sensitivity.”
“Can you help me?”
“I can.” Factually correct she knew, but how much was the real question.
“We'll do a few more simple sessions like this, to make sure you're comfortable with the meld procedure and so you can get to know me. We'll set up a safe word, a way for you to let me know if I need or you want me to leave your head in a hurry and I'll get a feel for which treatment to use.” She stopped herself adding 'first' to that sentence just in time.
“Also I think it would help if you can remember as much as possible about when this amnesia came about. How you were feeling, what happened in earlier sessions, what you were thinking – anything that could be a clue to the key to unlock the box.”
“Okay I will.”
“Have some food, keep your strength up and get plenty of rest. As you probably know a mind-meld is very draining isn't it? The stronger you are, the longer we can safely go on in one session and the better continuity we can achieve.” He nodded.
“I will discuss your treatment with Phlox and then I'll see you again tomorrow.”
Seated with Phlox and T'Pol, T'lda poured over Malcolm's medical records.
"So this condition is quite a rare occurrence in adult Vulcans, but it's not at all an abnormal reaction in a non-telepath. It most often occurs in Vulcan children when they develop abilities earlier than expected and haven't yet been taught protective techniques. If they feel a psychic attack or hurt they can accidentally block their past memories, although it's not usually as complete a block as this.
For them the remedy isn't too difficult. One can guide them back to the situation, help them see what they did and usually they can just undo the result by thinking it.
The major advantage with children is usually there's a witness to why the child felt threatened and there's a parent to respond whom they implicitly trust and who will already be familiar to some degree with their child's mind. It's always distressing but usually minor.
In adults that's still a technique we can try. Another approach is to try to find a strong situation of the opposite kind. If trauma, or in this case fear of revealing a secret causes the block, we can try to guide him to the most open of moments instead. If we can create a strong enough situation, he might be able to blast it open.
Or, thirdly, we don't have to find the exact place where he's locked his memories, we can work at gaining his trust and guiding him to almost make a different key, find a logic that makes the black box unnecessary and he could free himself by choosing to cast it aside.
Those are the most common options. I think the last one has the best chance of success and is the healthiest in the long-term. Without knowing him at all, it's hard to derive a situation which would force him to release all guards, so a logic to just open this guard is most practicable to achieve I think.”
She scanned further through Reed's records.
“That's strange; there seem to be some irregularities in his childhood records. Quite a few routine reports mention signs of older injuries but there are only a couple of reports covering minor injuries directly which is odd.”
“He did say that his family moved countries a few times, perhaps those records were mislaid.”
“Hmm. Does he have any close relatives or very close friends we could contact?” T'Pol shook her head and Phlox commented.
“I know his only sister died just two months ago in an accident. They were very close. He is also very close to her husband, his brother-in-law. Apart from that, his mother died when he was quite young and he is estranged from his father – they have no contact at all.”
“Hmm, any or none of this could prove significant. We'll see how it goes but I may try to contact the brother-in-law if we don't make progress. T'Pol as you were captured with Lieutenant Reed, if you could tell me anything you know about what happened as well please that could be useful. Also, I understand he trusts you a great deal, I may ask you to assist me if you would be willing.”
“Certainly, I would like to help very much.”
“Does anyone know why he is estranged from his father? Was his sister as well?” Phlox shrugged but T'Pol responded.
“I do not know but I suspect she was. She was certainly very close to Malcolm. I believe, although I do not recall where I obtained this information, that Malcolm's mother committed suicide. Perhaps he blames his father for her death.”
“You mentioned in your report that Malcolm resisted the first mind-meld or indeed defeated it by trapping his interrogator in a strong 'traumatic' memory? It is highly likely that may be a very early memory, perhaps a childhood trauma. It is also likely that the current state may be related. The same defence would never work twice in a row against a mind-meld examination. However he would not know that, so it is likely that this second defence may have some relationship or root in the first. If something works once to defend you, you are most likely to start there again the next time you meet the same threat.
Over the course of several patient interviews with Malcolm and daily mind-meld exercises, he trusted T'lda more and more but was always unable to recall any memories before his capture. At length she was forced to arrange an interview with his brother-in-law Dieter Visser – a fortunate decision as he proved to be a mine of information. Once he had been assured that it would be treated with the strictest confidence and had gotten over his wariness and the novelty of talking to a Vulcan he provided her with information she felt would be the key to Malcolm's recovery.
She made copious concise notes to refer to during her treatment:
M = Malcolm Reed
S = Stuart Reed
Md = Madeline Reed
After his mother's death, an overdose of sleeping pills which it could never be confirmed as deliberate or accidental (she was discovered by his sister). The children are left solely in their father's care. A retired navy admiral, now a senior diplomat.
One day M comes home unexpectedly. An accident caused transport for his journey to be cancelled so he returns home. Hears a commotion upstairs and follows it to Md's room to find his father, semi-naked, on top of her. Horrified M immediately attacks S, drags him off and tells Md to run. His father is much stronger than 13yo M and easily frees himself, so enraged he beats and kicks M unconscious. Before M passes out, S warns him that if he or Md tell anyone of this, no one will believe them, and he chillingly promises to hurt Md worse and it'll be M's fault.
Long after he's left, Md comes back. She is 11yo. She pulls the quilt off her bed to cover her brother and huddles up next to him. When he groggily comes to hours later and sees her huddled up next to him in her now blood-stained fluffy nightie he knows life will never be the same again, a nightmare has begun.
They hold each other tightly. Despite his pain, M sits up and comforts Md as she cries with fear.
“It's not your fault Md, it's not your fault Md,” he repeats over and over again, soothing her.
“I'll protect you. I'll find a way. It's all right. I promise I'll keep you safe.”
S is out of the house and it is school holidays. M tries desperately to think of his options.
Tell the authorities. They have to be believed surely? There's physical evidence that can't be denied. They might not be safe straight-away but they couldn't be sent back if there's evidence their story is true. Md should be safe despite S's threats.
Kill S. M feels he could do it, he is so hurt, but killing is wrong. He might go to jail – who would protect Md then? He's too young to really understand about self-defence and juvenile crimes.
Run away. Problem is they're both too young. If caught, and how wouldn't they be, they'd just get sent back and that could only make things worse. Not an option for now.
He decides they must try option one. He puts an overcoat on his sister and some shoes. Makes her have a hot drink and eat some cereal and they walk to the nearest security station. They explain everything. M insists his sister is examined and his own injuries recorded. He refuses to leave Md's side during the physical examination.
They are taken to an emergency foster family. A few days later though it becomes obvious that S's influence and power was greater than M could have known. Unaccountably all the physical evidence has vanished. Somehow he has persuaded the authorities (with threats or bribery or blackmail) that it was some kind of prank or childish delusion. There is only their word and they are left in no doubt what that's truly worth.
They are forced to return home. S behaves as normal for a while, perhaps in case they are being monitored. But M knows they are in for it. His only thought is how to protect Md. He has nightmares about seeing his father raping her, can't bear to think of that happening again. He knows what he interrupted probably wasn't the first time. Now his mother's death is starting to make sense, which is a pity because his memories and love for her are becoming torn up by a sense of betrayal and abandonment.
He starts to swap rooms with Md. She goes to bed as normal first, later when M is dismissed, he wakes her up, or just carries her to his bedroom and swaps with her.
Finally one night S comes to Md's room and realises in the dark that the sleeping young body he is groping is not his daughter's but his son's. M kicks him off but gets a vicious punch in the gut for his trouble. Until that moment he didn't know how much anger he had and the strength it could give him. He doesn't have any plan except stopping his father finding Md that night. M fights tooth and nail but S is too strong and leaves M bloody and limp. Finally M has only one last card to play. He begs.
“Please leave Md alone and I'll do anything, anything you want.”
“Anything? And no squealing to the police because you know that won't work and I'll just take it out on her if you do.” He has no other choice but to agree.
“Anything.” The defeat hurts worse than any blow.
The worst time of his entire life begins that moment, when his dad unfastens his trousers and tells him to come over. Staggering and weak from the beating he has just received, M does.
“Kneel.” Fighting nausea, he's forced to take his father's penis in his mouth. Tears he's not even aware of fall as he's told exactly how to move and suck and touch until his own father gets off in his mouth. When S leaves, he shivers and retches. Curls up on the floor of his sister's bedroom unable to move another inch
In the morning Md finds him lying there still. For a horrible moment she thinks he is dead too, but then sees he is breathing. She doesn't know exactly what has happened but she knows it is terrible. In some part of her mind she knows M is protecting her and suffering for it. When he wakes up she is there waiting to comfort him as he has comforted her. But he is so ashamed and angry with himself he pushes her away, then controls himself. He cannot become a violent ogre like S.
Ashamed of the fear he himself has put for a moment in Md's eyes, he beckons her over and this time allows her to hug him. The warmth and comfort feels good. To her shock, her big brother is sobbing in her arms, his thin frame heaving as he clutches her.
Soon they have to collect themselves and dress. As M is washing his wounds, Md comes in with her own special box of plasters and sticks one to a cut on his leg. He looks at the Winnie The Pooh strip and starts to laugh, which surprises him, but he realises he's not going to be beaten, and that Md is a tough cookie and he feels better for her help, he needs her.
He has to adapt, clearly expecting any help from anyone is a no go. Their housekeeper has always gone when anything happens. He suspects, growing up fast in the next few days, that she may not have a permit and is under S's complete control. She has a family to support, he can't expect any help from her. Although as time passes, he realises the snacks she brings up to his room when he is too hurt to move or too sick to eat normally with S are unauthorised and S would not be happy. So he takes care not to be caught returning the dishes. He makes sure Md knows it's a secret, something they have many of now, and hugs the housekeeper when they are alone. She is the only adult he has any time for, but he doesn't trust her too much.
The situation continues. Their father is away a lot for work, but at least once a month, usually more often, his father forces him into some sexual act. Md is back again in her own bedroom. He hopes she doesn't fully know what is going on. As he submits 'willingly' now, his father rarely puts bruises on him, at least not where they will show.
But protecting his sister comes at a terrible cost. He can feel himself changing, becoming more withdrawn and serious. Always worrying, always watching for danger. He turns 14, starts some little part-time work. He's not allowed to do much at that age, but he carefully saves every credit. At 16 he can leave and not be forced back, but he has to have a plan to keep Md safe. He doesn't have that yet.
At school his teachers notice that he has become more closed and quieter. Somehow he keeps his grades up. Fear. Ever-present fear is the motivation. He knows what could happen if they fall. He gets into fights now though – his anger and stress finding an outlet where they can. The fights give him an idea. He enrols in all the extra-curricular self-defence classes he can. He's still on the small side for his age, but finds some weights in their garage and in secret starts trying to strengthen his body.
It's a struggle though. He can't allow himself to tell Md how S is now abusing him, he doesn't want to frighten her or make her feel guilty. The suffocating burden causes depression, not that he knows what to call the constant numb feeling of hopelessness. He goes through some days in a haze, not knowing at the end who he was or what he said and did. Too many nights he doesn't sleep, just cries.
One hot summer's day he remembers he is in the outbuilding, can't remember what he was doing, maybe repairing his bicycle. For once he has no visible bruises and the temperature is high so he takes his shirt off while he works. Through the window over the large utility sink he can see Md is in the garden, playing happily with a friend on the lawn. The sound of her laughter is a huge comfort to him; she is okay he thinks, sometimes it is the only thing keeping him going.
He turns away and flinches, S has come in silently and is standing right behind him. He might have been there watching for a while. He presses close to M. The ugly bulge of his erection rubbing against his bare stomach.
M tries to blank his mind and make himself feel nothing. Dissociating has become a survival habit for him now. He regularly takes his mind away while unspeakable things are forced into his body. Expressionless, on automatic pilot, he unbuckles his dad's belt and is about to kneel. But this time S doesn't want a blow job.
He motions and M knows to drop his own trousers and underwear. He does so without a word. Any show of reluctance or complaint usually earns a swift punch to his solar plexus. He's learnt the rules. As he turns around, the hot sunshine on his face feels like a slap. How can it dare to be shining so brightly when his life at these moments feels like the darkest pit of hell. He feels some cold spit being applied and braces himself, trying not to tense. Usually he is adept at swallowing any sound, for fear of waking his sister in her room, but today he allows himself the smallest whimper of pain as S bends him over and begins to push into him.
As he gets deeper and more forceful unfortunately there's no solid surface for M to balance against. A hard thrust makes his wet hands slip. He is bent over the sink full of greasy water. S's weight pushes him down and his head goes under as his feet leave the ground. S doesn't stop and the sink's lip is being driven against his lowest rib painfully. When he can't hold his breath any longer he begins to fight for air.
As he surfaces for a moment, S shifts to grab a handful of his hair tightly.
“I like it when you struggle.” He says between pants.
Pushing harder, he forces M's head under water again. He sees bright bubbles floating to the surface, can taste the grease in the water. From the fierce rhythm he can tell now that S is nearly finished, but he also knows he doesn't have enough breath to last. Why fight? He'd much rather end all this. Unfortunately S has realised he isn't going to fight for another breath and yanks M's head up painfully, just enough that his starving lungs can half-fill while he fucks him to completion.
After he has withdrawn and gone. M stands gasping and trembling, his flesh goose-pimpled all over despite the stifling heat. He stares blankly at the turbulent water, mesmerised by the ripples of sunlight until the surface of the water is completely calm.
How could he be so selfish. If he's not here Md will be next. For a traitorous moment he feels a surge of hate for his sister, out there in the sun, laughing and running while he is drowning his self-respect to save her. But then she trips and falls flat on her face and he knows that he can't hate her, he loves her.
“You've got to be stronger. Got to be stronger.” He mutters to himself. Makes himself straighten, pull his trousers up and wash his hands and face. He winces as he tucks in his shirt. He wonders if his rib is broken. He will certainly have a really bad bruise to hide tomorrow.
He can't sleep that night with the pain in his side, even though by now he is all too used to taking painkillers.
He tries again and again to find an escape. He is applying himself more at school, hoping learning will help him to find a solution. Over the years he has tried telling different adults, even adults in other countries what is going on. But somehow, at a level above what he can comprehend, his father snuffs out any threats and then visits him with savage violence until he has fully understood; help will never be coming.
Md has changed too it's true. She's growing up, more aware of the dangers in the world, but she has friends, she's still capable of happiness he's cheered to see. She's become his little nurse. It was impossible to hide what was happening, since she often wanders into his room for company, and even when he is out. Obviously they are not allowed locks on their doors. She's seen enough bloody clothes and sheets to know, but he hopes she thinks it's just a beating and nothing more. Perhaps he is fooling himself, but although they are much, much closer than most siblings, she's never asked him outright, so he's never had to lie to her.
A few times now she has confidently applied antiseptic and a dressing to bad cuts. He's proud of her. She has a stash of clean old cloths and salves in a box far under her bed. Gradually she's adding to it, pilfering from household supplies and using her own pocket money. Rolls of adhesive tape, butterfly plasters even a can of spray-on plas-skin from an unattended open first-aid box at school.
One particular time he had a long, deep cut on his arm. Being thrown against a rake will do that. She got out a needle and thread from her sewing kit. His eyes widened.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” she replied confidently and set to work. No anaesthetic of course, but she was quick and neat as if she'd been doing it all her life. He was so surprised and proud at her competence and sang-froid, he didn't even flinch.
“Thank you Nurse Reed.”
Shore leave. Rest and recuperation after T'lda's mind-meld restored his memories.
After dinner Mal was the book reader Lauren demanded after daddy had bathed her. He enjoyed the innocent, joyous and sleepy little presence next to him, marvelling even as he read, how vulnerable children were and how fiercely protective he felt of his niece. After goodnights, tucking in and kisses, he turned
off
the main light, left the door ajar as he knew she preferred and went back to the lounge. It was good to relax; no shift to get up for, no responsibilit
ies
, just a pure moment of holiday leisure.
“Nightcap?” Dieter waggled the silhouette of a scotch bottle at him.
“That would be
great
, thanks.” They sat companionably toasting their feet by the log fire, sipping their malts. Malcolm had certainly missed the genuine taste.
“Remind me to
get a bottle to take
back with me will you?”
“I can do better than that. We couldn't see you for your birthday obviously, but I know Maddy chose a bottle and put it aside for you.” Mal smiled fondly.
“She's always been my favourite sister!” Dieter gave a short laugh. Then abruptly got to his feet.
“That reminds me.” He hunted around in a bureau for a few moments, then passed Malcolm an envelope with 'For Malcolm' in Madeline's hand on it.
“It was with her will,” he said simply. “Maybe I should have opened it straight-away and scanned it to you, but I thought it would be better in person, I didn't think it would be anything urgent. Forgive me if that was wrong.” Malcolm shook his head and rolled his eyes, clearly it was a non-issue to him.
“You're not going to read it now?” As Malcolm went over and topped up their glasses with a couple of fingers of the mellow whisky.
“I will, there's no rush.”
“Would you rather be alone?”
“Absolutely not. Oh
remind me to bring it down, I
brought
a bottle for
you. Maybe we can try it another night, it's called Saurian Brandy, I think you'll like it.”
“Wow, thanks! Is it alcoholic?” he asked innocently. Malcolm laughed.
“As if I'd insult you by bringing a bloody soft drink!” Dieter snorted.
“Well I thought after the night we had on my stag do with that alien drink you contributed – what was it -
Blood Wine
? You might have played it safe.”
“Heh heh. No. Maddy should have bottled that hangover cure she invented the next day.”
“Oh yeah! But, oh, it tasted disgusting though remember?”
“Yes but that's how you knew it was working. Plus it made us puke our guts up. Did her cooking ever improve?”
“Well let's just say that as I work mostly from home and she worked shifts at the hospital, it made a lot more sense for me to do most of the cooking and leave it at that.” Malcolm chuckled.
“I've never been able to touch rice-pudding since Maddy made it for me.” He shook his head. They swapped reminiscences for a while, good and bad. Dieter felt freer to talk than he had done for a while, with someone who knew Madeline as well as he had. And he knew that as Malcolm hadn't been able to attend the funeral, he would have been grieving all alone. Given their history, he couldn't imagine how much losing Maddy must hurt, and to be in the middle of space, with no family around. Malcolm was probably desperate to talk about her.
In the dying firelight many hours and
whisk
ie
s
later, he drowsily watched Malcolm
rise from his armchair to
feed the fire another log, then prop himself on the rug, resting his back against Dieter's sofa. He stared at the envelope in his hand for a while, then opened the letter.
Dearest Mal,
So I decided to write this, I needed to write this, after our wedding and your fantastic speech. It was funny, it was touching and to Dieter and I, so full of faith and joy, it was just perfect.
I really hope that there's nothing in this letter that I've never said to you face to face, but I like the thought that you've got it written down for any time you need it, especially if I'm not there to remind you and to support you in person.
You were always the best brother I could ever have had. No one could have loved me more than you. Even before mum died and things went south, you were the kind of brother who included his younger sister and helped me to grow. I remember you were the one who steadied my bike for me when I first learnt to ride, you cheered loudest when I won an egg and spoon race at sports day! The things I remember!
Yes you did steal my best conkers, I haven't forgotten. And 'persuade' me into swapping plates if my slice of chocolate cake was bigger than yours. But then you did spend ages helping me with my homework when keeping up with father's expectations drove me to tears.
I knew I was lucky even then when I saw how my friend's brothers almost treated them as enemies, and ditched their tiresome younger sisters as soon as they could get away. Or teased them and made them cry, but you were happily different.
I don't remember that you were a 'cool' kid at school, but I know you were happy to do what you thought was right, so you didn't worry about what the pack did. And my friends thought you were cute – don't know where they got that idea from! Joking!
And then when things changed, after mum left us, you were so much more. You became guardian, parent and even psychologist – and still my own big brother. I don't even know how you found the strength to do what you did. I owe you so much. I owe you everything.
It's hard to put into words everything I feel. You're my hero and my best friend. I can always talk to you – you never turn me away, no matter how you feel or what time it is. Sometimes you even forced
me
to talk, trying and trying different routes until I could get out what I needed to say. I hope I was there for you in the same way – it breaks my heart sometimes though, to think of how you bore so much stress and pain alone.
I know what you went through since . . . in fact I think I can now guess exactly how you kept me safe, even though you hid it well. Oh my brave brother. Like a parent you made sacrifices for my happiness. But I will help you here. I know you and hand on heart I swear, they were worth it. I know it was your choice, I'm not going to feel guilty, that would be stupid and only add to your burden, and I couldn't bear to do that. Just as you couldn't have lived with yourself if you hadn't saved me.
So know that thanks to you, I have peace and contentedness. I have Dieter and the happiness our life brings me. I would never have been able to trust or been open to a relationship without your stubbornness – forcing me to see the situation for what it was and making me believe that I wasn't to blame. And it gives me huge comfort too, to know that Dieter has you to call his brother.
And I sleep at night because of you. I have a career because of you. You were a great parent. I couldn't have had better.
I saw you when you were sad, afraid or hurt and at the hardest of times. You were my best friend because you didn't hide it. You trusted me and that made our relationship so strong and such a comfort. Because you let me in – I learned I too could cope with the darkest of times. Your courage, strength and willingness to pick yourself up day after day, time after time, even when life had given you the worst beating was my inspiration. That and your dodgy sense of humour!
The moment my nightmare, our nightmare, began, was also the moment my hope began. You saved me, you protected me. For the first time since mum died I felt safe, I felt loved and I had someone I
could
rely on. I learned the hope and strength to keep you going through the darkest times when you could find neither. Your faith in better times gave me faith, and together we made it true.
So . . . thank you for being my best friend in the whole world ever. I love you so much and I always will, always - I mean it! You are the bravest and truest person I ever met. The funniest, steadiest and most wonderful big brother ever.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Forever.
Your loving and grateful sister,
Madeline
xxxx
“
Oh Maddy. I miss you so much.” He passed the letter up to Dieter when he'd finished reading and wiped the tears tracked down his cheeks. Dieter huffed when he finished reading and squeezed the shoulder leaning back below him. Malcolm carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope reverently.
“You know everything she says goes for me too right?”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Except the comment about your looks though.” Malcolm laughed.
“She told me everything that happened to you two. In fearsome detail I'm afraid.” At Malcolm's nod suddenly two and two clicked in his mind to make four.
“Oh and I'm a plank aren't I? Of course, you told her to didn't you? You made her tell me.” Malcolm shrugged.
“She always wanted to but, understandably it's not an easy thing to talk about and I guess she just kept putting it off waiting for the right time. I just gave her a little push.
I
knew you were the right guy for her. But I told her if she couldn't talk to you about it or she couldn't trust you with it, then you weren't the right person to marry and I wouldn't give her my blessing. Maybe that was a bit mean, but she owed it to you. It would be totally unfair not to share something so important with you. You had to go into it with your eyes open too.”
“I was a huge shock. I mean, sometimes I felt as if I was missing a piece of her. I thought it was how your mother died or because your dad was away a lot. Then I realised how or rather how she never talked about him. I noticed little things when I met you; how close you two were, how protective you were of each other. I think I knew, really, before she confirmed it. But, oh! The whole tragedy – it's incredible to think that can still happen in this day and age. She was really brave to tell me.”
“I'm glad she had you and that you know everything. I . . “ Malcolm hesitated a split second. He understood now why he found it so hard to say he needed help, but at least he knew the value of making himself do so when he needed to.
“I . . .” He tried again. “You know I need to talk to you too?” Dieter nodded.
“I remember. It's on the list! You had some more tough times in your life recently. I'm here for you, whenever you're ready to talk.”
“Thanks.”
Dieter really got a kick out of showing his space-boy brother-in-law around their property. It was really just a medium-sized farmhouse with a barn and some fields, a nice view and peace and quiet. As newly-weds, it had struck them both as just what they'd been looking for. He'd especially fallen in love with the disused barn a few metres from the main house. He'd drawn up his own plans and converted it, with a huge skylight, into a light and airy studio, where he could work and look out of picture windows all around.
Malcolm hadn't visited since it's conversion and he was impressed at the airy space. Lots of natural light sweeping across various pinboards of ideas, scraps of materials, paints, models, plans; all the paraphernalia of a creative consultant and graphic designer.
“Wow! It's amazing! You are so building me a house one day.
“Definitely. It's good isn't it?”
“Oh yeah. Maddy made these didn't she?” He'd picked up some scatter cushions. Then he looked around closer, at the details.
“Oh wow. It's got her stamp all over it. She recovered this chair didn't she? These cushions, those woven baskets.” His voice softened, but happily.
“She's everywhere.” Dieter nodded.
“Mm-hmm. It was tough coming back in here soon after y'know. I remember her finishing each one, choosing colours, fabrics. She came in here a lot when I wasn't working. You get a great sunset from that window.”
He walked over a few steps, expecting Malcolm to follow him. But Malcolm had stopped in front of a little kettle, with mugs and a small fridge.
“Oh yeah. My little snack corner. I like a cuppa as much as the next Brit. Hey do you get tea breaks in space?”
“Mal?”
“Malcolm?” He wandered back to see what had his friend so rapt.
“Earth to Malcolm.”
“Yeah? Sorry, drifted off.”
“Mal, what's wrong?” He wasn't even close to fooled by the casual tone. And closer he could see that Malcolm was very pale.
“Mal, come sit down, talk to me.”
“No. . . No. Die can you just leave me alone for a bit.” He half-turned and Dieter could see some deep emotion in his eyes.
“Please Die, just go. Now. I need to be alone. Come back in a bit yeah?” His voice was choked up and the hand he could see at Malcolm's side was clenched into a white knuckled fist.
“Sure Mal, take your time.” One of things he'd found easy to love immediately about his sister's brother was his refreshing lack of bullshit. It suited his pragmatic and frank Germanic heritage. Mal was rarely rude, but if he needed or wanted something he asked for it. There was no falseness and little he said was just for politeness's sake. He had no idea yet what was troubling his visitor, but he trusted him and if he needed space right now, it wasn't a problem. He turned sharply and went.
As he paced slowly back to the main house, the sun setting behind him dipped a degree and began to beam into the barn through the window over their huge old sink, outlining Malcolm, head bowed, standing in front of it.
Some while later Dieter decided it was time to check on him. He brewed two cups of tea, it never hurt, and managed to get a grip on a pack of biscuits with the same hand as he crossed back the short distance to the barn. Tentatively he knocked, before putting his head through the open door. Malcolm was sitting on the floor with his back to their old Belfast sink. The sleeves of his cotton top were pushed up, the edges soaking wet. He'd clearly been crying, hard. His breath was just hitching dryly every now and then. Dieter put his mugs down safely, knelt and wrapped his arms around Malcolm without hesitation. To his relief, Mal didn't stiffen or push him away but accepted the embrace and returned it. Die patted his back, as he did Lauren's when she had a bad dream. Inside he was pretty scared, he'd never seen Mal as vulnerable as this before.
When he'd messaged the Starfleet officer a week before his shore-leave to ask if there was anything special he wanted to eat or do, he'd received a characteristically dry and down to earth list in response:
'Sleep! Drink single malt with you. Play with Lauren. Have stupidly long baths until I turn into a prune. Talk about Madeline. Cry. Eat haggis. Eat a steak the size of the cow and drink red wine. Talk about the old bad stuff. Sleep more! xxx Mal.'
He'd been warned.
When Malcolm was calm again, he sat alongside and handed him a still-hot tea and made the biscuits available. Malcolm took a long swallow.
“Mmm ta.” They drank and ate, dunking jaffa cakes in comfortable silence for a while. Finally Malcolm sighed. He reached up with his left hand and tapped his knuckles on the sink a few times. It rang dully, like solid ceramic normally does.
“This sink's from our old house.” His voice was somewhat rough, but he sounded more like his normal self again.
“Um, yep.” Dieter was surprised. This wasn't a place he'd ever expected the conversation to start.
“Maddy saw there was a junk sale sign when she passed one day. The new owner had gutted a lot of it and she got this for next to nothing.” There was a long silence. He decided to do some more of the talking here, it wasn't hard to guess where this might be going.
“Did something happen to you around it?” Malcolm looked at him and nodded solemnly.
“Your dad involved?” Another nod. Finishing his tea, Malcolm got up and Die followed suit. The sun had nearly completely set and was dropping out of the frame of the window. The sink was full of water. As Malcolm reached out and pulled the plug, Dieter took one of Malcolm's arms and squeezed gently. Malcolm gave him a sweet smile and gestured with his chin out of the window.
“This sink used to be in our garage. One day I was standing there washing my bike dérailleur or something. It was a hot summer day, I was watching Maddy and a school friend of hers having fun playing at dodging the sprinkler on the lawn. He shook his head and grimaced. Dieter looked him in the eye unflinchingly, he knew what must be coming next. The blue eyes didn't waver from him.
“Stuart suddenly appeared behind me, I didn't hear him, he might have been there watching me for ages. He made me undress, pushed me back and raped me over this sink.” Malcolm swallowed.
“Only when my hands slipped and he discovered it was even better if he kept my head under the water until I was practically drowning at the same time.”
Dieter shook his head in horror at this image.
“Oh fuck me.” Malcolm raised his eyebrows and snorted.
“Well that most
definitely
wasn't the phrase I used.” His humour was sometimes so dry it could desiccate a coconut, but Dieter wasn't afraid to smile. Malcolm kept a poker face for a moment longer, then smiled as well.
“I'm really sorry Malcolm. Obviously Maddy didn't know.”
“Which is great, actually,” said Malcolm as he rinsed his cup calmly.
“That's what I wanted.” He turned.
“It's a grand sink. I just recognised it. I put this crack in it here, and it really shook me. I'm sorry if I was . . .weird. I just had to get through that memory.”
“It's fine Mal. It must have been bloody horrible.”
“It was. One of the worst actually. Being underwater, straining for air, feeling him all over me. And the sun was shining so warmly that day. Just a minute before I'd been so happy, quietly working on my bike and feeling so good that Maddy was out there laughing and being a normal, not-scared kid. And then it all turned to shit.”
Dieter felt sick to his stomach at the casual violence Malcolm had been forced to normalise. The Englishman shrugged.
“
C'est
la vie. I got over it. It wouldn't have caught me out as badly except that this Vulcan thing has stirred all those memories up fresh.”
“How the hell did you cope back then?”
“Huh, sometimes I didn't. Maddy didn't see everything. That day I think I lost the plot completely for a time. I threw things and kicked stuff around the garage. That's how this got chipped. I got so angry I scared myself sometimes. I couldn't fight back because he'd hurt Maddy, I couldn't tell anyone because he was too powerful. That was the worst part I think, being utterly helpless.
I did go off the rails at times. Sometimes I'd steal a bottle of booze and disappear. I threw a lot of bricks at police station windows in those days I can tell you. They never caught me neither! I tried drugs too. They numbed the pain, it was an escape, I can really see the temptation. But Maddy got me out of that. She didn't get angry, she was so lovely. She just said she knew how I'd feel if something happened to her while I was out of it and that she worried about me. She didn't judge you know? Even so young.
Anyway I knew she was right. I couldn't lose myself like that, for her sake at least. So I really tried to forget those options, mostly successfully. I adapted, read some stuff on psychology, learnt to accept the anger and deal with it. It got easier. There was no choice anyway. I had to stay afloat, it couldn't go on forever, there would be better times in the future.”
“Pretty mature thinking for a teenager.”
“Yeah? I suppose so. I did have a few friends. They knew my dad hit me but not the rest, I couldn't put them at risk if they couldn't keep a secret. One had similar problems at home and we used to talk. I used to hide him in my room some nights when he was scared to go home. He was a tough kid too. Helped me realise that I wasn't alone in dealing with problems bigger than I should have had, it gave me another perspective.
We helped each out, sometimes Madeline would go and stay with him when my dad was home and his older brother wasn't. And normal stuff, we played football, went fishing. We both started learning judo and boxing. He was really bright, a bit of a prodigy so he got bullied a bit at school too. I don't remember why but I just got involved and got into a big fight with one of the kids pushing him around. He didn't touch him again. I got a reputation and a good friend out of it. Adam and I enrolled in Starfleet together. We still keep in touch, he's a really good mate.
I'll leave you his contact details, if you ever need any help you can go to him, he knows everything now. And his dad's an Admiral!”
Dieter nodded sympathetically and squeezed his shoulder. Mal lead the way across the grass without a backwards glance. It was crap, it happened, he would always remember it and feel bad. But the past was the past and that was that. Time to move on again.
“What's for dinner?”
A few days later.
“
Hey Mal!” Dieter was waving from the house to get his attention.
“
Call for you!”
“
Be right there!” He gathered Lauren up to his hip and moved.
“
I have a call Lauren – I wonder who it could be.”
“
Can I press the button uncle Mal?”
“
If your dad hasn't pressed it already, yes.”
They planted themselves at the terminal in the study, Lauren on his knee. With the air of an expert she pressed the stud to awaken the held call.
“T'Pol!” He exclaimed with surprise and pleasure.
“How are you?”
“I am well Malcolm, in fact I have completed my necessary steps here ahead of schedule. How are you?”
“I'm doing okay. It's so good to be here, things are feeling much more normal, it's really helped. Oh, I should introduce you to this little bundle. This is my niece Lauren. Lauren this lady is a special friend of mine called T'Pol and she also works with me on our spaceship.
Lauren waved, a little hesitantly. Then as T'Pol turned slightly she 'ooo'd' at the sight of her ears.
“Mal! Mal! She's an elf princess!” He laughed.
“She might be. She is a Vulcan, I'll tell you more about them later if you like.” Lauren was now fascinated and stared quietly open-mouthed as they talked.
“So what are you going to do with your last few days of leave?”
“I am undecided. I may take a few more trips to some more distant relatives.” An idea suddenly took shape in Malcolm's mind.
“T'Pol, if it was okay with my brother, how would you like to visit us here until it's time to head back? We could show you around a bit. It's really peaceful and beautiful around here and there's lots of space.”
“That sounds very agreeable.”
“Okay, are you pushed for time? I can go ask Dieter now?”
“I am not in a hurry.”
“Okay. Lauren why don't you talk to the princess for a minute while I speak to daddy. Don't press any buttons this time please.”
“Okay,” she said. Malcolm grinned and trotted off. He found Dieter in the kitchen.
“
Die, how would you feel if my friend T'Pol, yes the lady I mentioned, spends the last couple of days of her leave with us? She's finished her treatment on Vulcan and she seems to be at a loose end.” His eyes went round with surprise and excitement.
“Oh my! An actual alien wants to come and stay at my house!”
“Er, yeah. She's pretty normal really, very nice.”
“Will she be okay here with us? I mean food, environment . . um Humans.” Mal laughed and shook his head.
“Of course she will you dope, she works on a ship full of us!”
“Oh yeah. Cool that would be amazing.”
“You're sure?”
“I'm sure Malcolm. I can't wait to meet her.”
“Great. Thank you Die, I'll go tell her now.”
He returned to the console where it sounded like T'Pol was having the story of Sleeping Beauty explained to her.
“Sorry to cut in ladies, but yes, you are very welcome to stay with us until we have to go back, if you like. You might have to put up with about a million questions from my relatives, I don't think either of them have ever met a Vulcan in person before, but I can just send 'em shopping if it gets too much.” T'Pol nodded.
“I will pack and say my goodbyes at our family meal tonight and see you tomorrow afternoon. Should I bring anything in particular?”
“If you could bring some Vulcan brandy for Die to try he'll be putty in your hands. Lauren is easily bribed by sweets or pretty much anything pink at the moment. It's quite warm here, if that changes you'll be welcome to borrow something from Maddy's wardrobe, that won't be a problem, so nope you're good.”
“I understand. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow then.”
“Me too. Say goodbye Lauren.” The girl jumped off his lap and managed a passable curtsey.
“Bye princess!” She called. Malcolm rolled his eyes with a huge smile and closed the connection.
He found Dieter in a fever of excitement, already busily researching Vulcans on the database.
“It says here they're all vegetarians.”
“Well T'Pol certainly is. She's enjoyed most Human food I've tried on her, except sweet potato. Relax and just do normal stuff. The only things to really note are generally Vulcans are not very demonstrative okay? So even if she doesn't smile or laugh etcetera it doesn't mean she's unhappy, they're just super-reserved. Don't worry about it. I tend to just assume she's feeling how I would be or I pretend I've seen the reaction I would expect and that works for me.
You just be yourself, that'll be the most welcoming. If she can see you're not feeling like you have to behave differently she'll be most at home here. It'll be fine okay! Now what can I do to help?”
“Shall we make up an extra bed. . . or will you two be . . .?” He smirked.
“Lauren and I will go make a bed. We're not at that stage. That's a whole conversation for later.” He pointed at the little blonde head at his knee.
“I can't wait!”