Intolerance {Star Trek Enterprise Fan Fiction}

The Fever

"Ensign Mayweather, you're early,” T'Pol said. It was very early.

"I couldn't sleep, Commander. Too hot."

"The ambient temperature is 10 C,” she shivered a little.

He sneezed, then again.

"Ensign, I suspect you're coming down with something. You should go to Sick Bay,” she suggested.

"No, I'm, I'm, atchoo! I'm all right,” Travis sneezed six more times.

"Ensign, go to Sick Bay. That's an order."

=/\=

"Reed, I, I told you that I say things too quickly. And you do, too,” Pamela said.

"I suppose I do,” he admitted, “I just, I feel so much with you. And I don't mean the physicality of it although that is certainly a part of it. It's everything. Come, come here, Sweetheart,” he shivered a little in the chill.

"It's, it's too hot."

"You're always hot, my dear."

"No, I'm really hot,” she complained, “Can you turn the temperature down a little?"

"Sure. But I'll need to put something on. This is far too chilly for me."

"Something that isn't a part of a uniform,” she said, “Those uniforms don't show anything off. Something casual. You do have casual clothing, don't you, Malcolm?"

"Of course,” he put on a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved tee, “How's this?" he asked, smiling at her a little.

"It's good,” she said, “And you say you're not a good-looking man, but you are, Malcolm Reed."

"Thank you, love."

"There you go again."

"Well, I just, I think, given what we've said to one another, particularly this evening ...." his voice trailed off.

"And? And isn't it, well, wishful thinking?"

"Perhaps. But, well, these are the kinds of things that people who love each other say, and these are the kinds of things that they, that they do."

"You want very badly for it to happen, don't you?"

"Yes. Do you want it to be, to be love? Do you want that at all, Pamela?"

"I don't know. It's all wrapped up in terror for me. And you already know how my sexuality played out, all bound up with, with what started up almost thirty years ago. The two are wedded now, and I can't break them apart,” she admitted, “I also know that I shouldn't be treating you like a therapist. I never should have told you that. I feel naked."

"You are naked, Darling."

"You know what I mean, Reed."

"I know. Maybe it is too quick. We leapt into bed as if the world were ending. And it's not. I should have, should have courted you. More than just a sonnet or two. Spent time with you, got to know you well."

"And now you know too much about me. You've got steps one and two and eighty-seven of the formula, and they don't all fit together properly."

"That's true,” he said.

=/\=

Chip stared at the Communications console, “Commander?"

"Yes, Mr. Masterson?"

"I don't think we have long-range communications."

"Have you performed a diagnostic?"

"Two."