Pendulum, Part 2

[Charlotte Matsumura 0]

Pendulum, Part 2

CDR Malcolm Alexander (NPC)

Elisabeth Blair Matsumura (Guest)

***

 

Feet propped on one corner of his desk, Malcolm Alexander picked up the PADD closest to his terminal and powered it up. He had sent his resignation letter to his unclassified terminal at headquarters, hoping for one last review before he submitted it up the chain. It was short, sweet, to the point; it thanked Starfleet for their opportunity, but stated in clear terms that he no longer wished to serve in the Operations directorate.

 

He sighed, lowering the PADD as his gaze flitted about the room. The offices allotted to operatives were little more than storage closets with desks. And that was, he reasoned, fitting: They were rarely "in house." Between operations, they were usually either in Starfleet Medical or pretending to be normal citizens. Succeeding more than most, Mal had managed to make his office a "home away from home," where pictures and a British naval ensign adorned the walls alongside awards and certificates. In some ways, he thought, he would really miss his little closet of an office.

 

"I was told," a cultured but weary voice said, "that this was my best hope for a cuppa this late at night."

 

Elisabeth Matsumura was not one to lean in doorways, but the fold of her arms across her chest and the slight brush of a shoulder against the doorjamb belied her near-exhaustion. She shook her head slightly, looked down at the floor. "The guard said I could come back here, I don't know if I...I just needed a break from the damn waiting room," she murmured.

 

Lowering his feet from the desk, Mal sat up, surprised at the sight before him. With eyes that normally danced with a pixie-like gleam, the dark shadows now haunting them spoke volumes of the strain Liz was operating under. "I'm sorry, I…wasn't expecting visitors. Come in, come in; have a seat." He stood, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. "What would you like? Chamomile? Or would you prefer something black?" Turning, he stood at the ready, his attention on the replicator.

 

Liz crossed the distance between the doorway and chair, lowering herself into it with her normal grace -- aside from a slight trembling in her hands from lack of sleep. "Chamomile sounds rather nice, actually," she said quietly, but thankfully as she looked up at Mal. "He's breathing on his own, now," she said without preamble, knowing that Mal needed to hear it as much as she needed to deliver the news. "Doctor Howard says she expects Ronin will wake up...any time." She curbed the slight tremor in her voice, offered a wan smile. "I thought you might like to hear in person, rather than through a transmission."

 

At this, Mal nodded, producing the requested cup of chamomile. He followed it up with a small tray of various accoutrements, including honey and petite gingersnaps. "I do appreciate it. The doctor has been more than cooperative, but she's pointed out on more than one occasion that I'm not technically family."

 

Taking his own cup of Earl Grey, he rested a hip against the front edge of his desk. His brow furrowed as he stirred a small amount of cream and sugar into the cup. "I know better than to ask how you are, so... what about Charlotte? Is she getting by with her grandparents?"

 

Liz took a moment to simply savor a sip of the tea, letting the warmth chase away the chill that had seemed to settle inside the moment she'd received the news. Another sip, and she set the teacup back onto its saucer and looked up. She wasn't certain what had directed her here, but she was grateful to have someone with whom she could talk. "Lottie is...well, she's wondering when Daddy is coming home, and yet...she's thrilled to be with her grandmother and grandfather." The smile faded, her eyes closed. "Mal, if you hadn't..." She swallowed, trying to compose her words properly. "If you had been just a little later getting back…"

 

She wasn't the type to display her emotions publicly, but now, both physically and emotionally weary, a single tear escaped as she held Mal's gaze. "You saved his life," she said quietly, firmly. "Thank you."

 

Mal felt a knot swell at the back of his throat, and he did his best to swallow it back. "He saved my life, Liz. He...The guard came back early, and he just jumped right into the fray. I couldn't get a clear shot." He shook his head. "If I could have shot sooner, if I hadn't hesitated --"

 

Liz shook her head. "There is no use dwelling on hindsight, Mal." She reached over from where she sat and patted the forearm that was within her reach. "You both know how the game is played. Most of the time you win...you're that good. Once in awhile..." She shrugged, unable to complete her sentence, and she settled for another swallow of tea before looking at him. "You know when he wakes up, all he'll be worried about is you," Liz said knowingly, and a true smile touched her lips again. "We are a little fond of you around here, you know."

 

Reaching over, Mal allowed his hand to cover hers. "And I am very fond of you and your husband. You're something of the family I don't have" – he paused, grimacing -- "or rather, don't claim at the moment, and vice-versa.

 

"I know that we're not going to 'win' all the time; and I know that it was only a matter time before one of us was...injured," he continued, refusing to admit the alternative, "it doesn't ease my conscience. Ronin almost died out there, and Ginny... If it had been me out there, would Ginny even know what had happened?" Drawing a deep breath, he allowed a long sigh on the exhale. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this type of life after all; maybe my father was right."

 

Liz blinked a moment, and looked at him again. Mal was almost as tired as she was, she realized, and there were lines of worry etched in his features. There were a few things that being the wife of an intelligence operative afforded her – a peek behind the curtain, as it were. "The last time I checked," she said slowly, deliberately, "You completed your mission objective. Not to mention, Malcolm Alexander, your dossier says you're perfect for your chosen field. I know some of the things you've brought Ronin home from in one piece, and I know you're damn good. And I also know right now, recovered and ready for duty, he wouldn't want to work with anyone else."

 

"And, if I were back in the field, Lizzie, I wouldn't want to work with anyone else. We're a very good, very effective team. But I can't say that either one of us will ever return to the field after this. We owe it to you, to Charlotte, and to Ginny to be there. Working as we do, there's a huge change we won't be. Is it worth it? Is it worth the prospect that Lottie may grow up without her father? Or that Ginny and I will never make it down the aisle?"

 

Liz exhaled softly, and she looked at Mal with knowing eyes. "And if we didn't know what Romulans had up their sleeves...what would that spell out for Charlotte, or Ginny...or any of us? You entered this field knowing you'd be protecting those you loved. That hasn't changed. Certainly I worry for my husband...it's my right, and my job; so to speak. But I know what he's fighting for. Those things are still important."

 

Rubbing his face wearily with one hand, Mal grimaced. Yes, those things were still important, but was it possible for he and Ronin to simply leave their resolution to others, to step back from the front lines to lead quieter, safer lives? He sighed, knowing the answer even before his mental voice completed the question.

 

"You're right, of course. But what am I supposed to tell Ginny?" He stared down into his tea, swirling the liquid as his lips drew into a thin line. "She can't continue like this, Liz. She's told me as much, and I really don't want to put her through it. What do I do?"

 

Liz exhaled softly, and picked up her teacup once again, taking another sip of the hot liquid. "Perhaps...you shouldn't put her through it," she said tactfully, and then looked up at Mal again. "Somehow I don't see her...having the patience for a convalescence like Ronin's." Her words were spoken gently, but pointedly.

 

Mal looked up from his tea, eyes troubled. "I don't want to hurt her; I do love her."

 

Her expression grew soft, and sympathetic. "I know you do, Mal. And I think she loves you, too but..." She gave him a sad little smile. "Sometimes love isn't strong enough in the face of a calling like yours." The smile grew stronger as she said, "And it is a calling, Mal. You're good at what you do. We need people like you out there."

 

She leaned back a little in her chair, one hand coming up to rub eyes gritty from too little sleep. "I think you may find that, once you talk it out, you both may find yourselves relieved as well as a little sad. I want to see you with the right person for the right reasons, Mal. You deserve it."

 

She handed back the teacup, perhaps three-quarters drained, and rose from the chair. "I should go back...I want to be there when he wakes up," she said quietly. "Thank you for the tea..." She wavered a little on her feet, and was aware of a hand quickly steadying her.

 

"Easy, Lizzie," he said quietly. "Make sure you take care of yourself, too. I don't want you fainting on me, and Ronin would never forgive me if you fell out in the floor and wound up next to him, with a concussion." A wry grin twitched across his lips.

 

"Just a little head rush," she said, perhaps a little shakier than she meant to, and her hand curled around Mal's forearm. She was aware of Mal steering her back to the chair, her knees were all too willing for the relief. "I'm so tired," she murmured, her reserve crumbling just slightly once again. There were few people she trusted enough to allow it in their presence; her husband's partner and best friend was one of them.

 

Reaching across to the desk, Mal picked up the small plate of gingersnaps. "Have a biscuit, love," he said, forcing a smile, "and then I'll walk you back across to Medical." The rest of his dilemma would have to wait. For now, he had a very important charge to take care of.

 

 

***