Category: Slash

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Reed/ Other, Archer/Reed

Summary: Reed gets his chance to go into the past, circa 1941.

Warnings: Deathfic, Crossover, Temporal Cold War

Disclaimer: Have you ever had a story grab you by the throat and demand to be written? That, and not money, was the motivation behind the creation of this tale. All characters belong to their creators, but the story is mine.

Author’s Note: Danger: UXB was a 13 part series made in England in the late 1970s. It followed the adventures of a bomb disposal unit during the Blitz. Seemed to me that the job was right up Reed’s alley, and the prevalence of slashable men in that universe sure didn’t hurt. Oh, and this is not a deathfic, though it might look like one at certain points.

The street between the two buildings was narrow and disused and the curtain of light filled it completely. Two men emerged out of it and caught their balance, stumbling as their feet landed on the rubbish that had accumulated there. One of them wore khaki wool, of military cut and suited to the chill in the air. The single metal pip of a lieutenant glinted on each shoulder strap. The other wore a strange black textured garment that clung tightly to him. He turned to the soldier.

"I've given you about a week's lead time, Mr. Reed. If all goes well, I'll be back for you after the target date has passed."

"And if not?" The soldier's mouth turned up slightly. It wasn't quite a smile, but it would do.

"If not, I hope you like twentieth century London."

Reed's smile was genuine now. "Under different circumstances that could be tempting, Mr. Daniels."

"Don't get too wrapped up in the job." Daniels turned back to the gate. "Good luck." He stepped through and was gone.

Reed looked down at himself one last time. The coarse wool of his uniform was clean, every button fastened, every buckle done up properly. His heavy boots shone dully back at him. He shouldered his kitbag and strode out into the street.

He walked through a London rendered nameless by the threat of invasion. Every street sign had been defaced or removed in preparation for the German onslaught everyone believed imminent. Reed was troubled neither by the lack of signage nor the enemy he knew would never come. The threat he would face came from the future, not this long-ago present. He counted streets and turned decisively this way and that as his memory of the map guided him. Presently he came to a large school, the children now replaced with soldiers. He strode up to the sentry.

"Is this 97 Company?" Reed returned the smart salute of the blond sapper who stood before the door.

The man held out his hand. "Yes sir--I’ll need your orders." Reed pulled the documents out of the breast pocket of his khaki battledress. The man took them, looked at them and turned toward the door. "Follow me, sir. And you can leave your kit in the guardroom."

Their footsteps echoed on the bare floors as Reed followed first the sapper, then a corporal through the school building. Neither man spoke to him beyond what was necessary, not that Reed had expected them to. Some things never changed, he reflected as he drank in the antique surroundings, so alien and yet so familiar. Military routine spared him from having to answer too many dangerous questions before he had had a chance to become a part of this time and place.

He was glad of his wool clothing as they passed through drafty halls and squeezed around castoff desks stacked against the white painted walls. The corporal led him up a utilitarian staircase and down another hall. The doorframes were chipped, the dark wood showing through the layers of paint, and Reed wondered whether the damage had been done by the soldiers or by the children. Even with the bustle of a company headquarters all around him the cold was a memory out of the past. Sharp and familiar, it bit at his uniform. His father had been a traditionalist in every sense of the word, and that had included sending his only son back to England for his education. The building reminded him of his old school down to the drafts and the smell of damp wool.

Diffuse light from the gray sky streamed in through the high windows and mingled with that cast by large incandescent globes, pale compared to the bright lights of Enterprise. Every pane was crossed with tape, as was every window in London, mute evidence of the danger that fell from the sky every night. They passed through a set of heavy wooden swinging doors, their glass windows honeycombed with wire, and down a hall slightly less choked with furniture than the floor below had been.

The corporal rapped sharply on a dark wooden door with more of the wire-reinforced windows. The plaque on it said "Headmaster," but beneath it had been pinned a piece of white paper with "OC" on it in big block letters. At the muffled "come in," the corporal ushered Reed inside.

Major Luckhurst’s manner reminded Reed more of a schoolmaster than a man in charge of a bomb disposal unit. He greeted Reed kindly, took his papers, and dismissed the corporal, whose name Reed then discovered was Horrocks.

"Coffee?" Luckhurst’s eyes flicked over the orders. "There’s some over there."

"Real coffee?" Reed saw a carafe and a few heavy mugs on the windowsill. He poured himself a cup and inhaled appreciatively. "I didn’t think you could find it any more."

"Our mess corporal gets it from somewhere, I don’t ask where," Luckhurst said.

Reed sat down. The office was cluttered, but orderly in spite of it. The desk was one of the few clear spaces. Behind the desk was a blackboard filled with neat figures. Each Section had a row, showing personnel, bombs disposed of, and those yet to be cleared. It was like being inside a museum, Reed thought. As he waited for Luckhurst to finish, he took in as many details as he could.

"It’s past time we had an experienced ordnance officer here, but frankly Mr. Reed, I don’t understand how we got you." Luckhurst set Reed’s papers on the desk. "I’d expect you’d be far more valuable finding ways around the booby traps we manage to uncover than down in the trenches with us."

"That’s just it, you see," Reed said. "We need someone who knows the actual conditions a bomb disposal officer must work under in order to do that. We can dream up all sorts of things in the laboratory, but we don’t have anyone who can tell us whether they will work in the field. Since there are no bomb disposal officers to spare, I’ve been sent to see what I can pick up."

The story came easily to Reed by now. In a way it was a shade of the truth, though the details had changed. There had been no one else to spare for this mission, and in the absence of concrete details, Reed would have to pick up whatever information he could. In this case the tasks of a bomb disposal officer were the things Reed knew the most about. The general cultural information had been easy enough to locate, but he had not realized just how vulnerable it made a person to have no friendships, no shared history he could own to with any human being on the planet. He understood exactly why Daniels had faded into the background in Enterprise. The normal everyday questions about partners, siblings, or the school one had gone to were suddenly fraught with danger. Yes, he would be picking up as many specifics as possible in the next few days as his mission progressed.

"Risky way to gain experience," Luckhurst said. "But no more than the rest of us, I suppose. I see you’re to be attached to 347 Section. Lieutenant Ash is a good officer, and he has had some experience with experimental equipment."

"That’s why he was chosen, sir." Reed took in the new information smoothly, and made use of it. The sources he had used to construct his cover had contained very little beyond bare dates and places. The temporal cold war had not penetrated back this far into Earth’s history and accordingly, Daniels’ database had contained little more than Enterprise’s. "It was hoped that he would be able to get me up to speed fairly quickly."

"Well you won’t be short of bombs to practice on," Luckhurst said. "Most of the Sections are out right now, but feel free to make use of the mess till we can find you a billet." He rose. "I’ll take you there if you like. I’m on my way out."

The mess was deserted, save for the reserved corporal whom Reed assumed had procured the coffee. Gratefully Reed slipped into a chair by the fire and settled down with a newspaper.

*** ***

As afternoon turned to evening, Reed’s fellow officers began to trickle in. He traded introductions with several of them as Corporal Mould flitted about the room, quietly supplying what was needed. Reed was sitting in quiet conversation with Lieutenant Pringle, the billeting officer, when Ash arrived.

"There’s your man--you’ll be staying with him, actually." Pringle waved Ash over. "Oh Brian, this is Malcolm Reed, your observer. He’s also billeted with you, just to make things tidy."

Reed stood up and offered his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ash."

Ash smiled and took Reed’s hand. "How d’you do, Mr. Reed." He glanced at Pringle. "So when I get called at all hours, at least I’ll have company." Ash slumped into one of the comfortable leather armchairs and pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket.

The one photograph Reed had managed to find of Ash had shown a slender young man with light brown hair, properly turned out in a dress uniform. In battledress he looked far younger and there was a lost, ethereal quality about him that touched something in Reed. War was Reed’s profession, but here in this mess, surrounded by men barely out of their teens, he could only wonder how many of them would emerge at the end able to take up their interrupted lives again.

There could not have been a greater contrast between the next two officers to enter. Both wore captain’s pips, but there the similarity ended. One was as appallingly young as the rest of the mess. He had an open, friendly face and dark hair, and made straight for the group by the fire. The other was older and sought a chair as far from the animated group as possible. He managed to radiate disapproval without saying a word.

"I see we have a new face amongst our august company. I hope you’ve been welcomed properly? I’m Ivor Rodgers."

Reed rose and took the hand the stranger extended. "Malcolm Reed. Yes, I’d say so. I’ve got a place to sleep and somewhere to go tomorrow at least."

"Well that’s something," Rodgers said.

"He’s one of mine, Ivor," Ash said from his seat.

"Yours? You’re barely whelped!"

"Apparently I came highly recommended," Ash said diffidently.

"Will wonders never cease?"

Corporal Mould arrived at Rodgers’s elbow with a drink.

Rodgers signed for it and took it from the tray before continuing. "Tell me, Mr. Reed, whatever did you do to get yourself sent here?"

It was just the sort of question that could come back to haunt him later, Reed thought. "Actually, I’m here for training, to learn the conditions a bomb disposal officer works under. My job is to find ways round the booby traps you encounter."

"A boffin?" Rodgers sat down, his amusement plain on his face. "Well, it stands to reason, I suppose. But so far, reason has had very little to do with this job."

"I got tired of fishing about in the dark," Reed answered. "Thought I’d come and have a look for myself. I hear you’ve got a particularly nasty bit of work showing up lately."

"Surely we can find something else to talk about?" Ash broke in. "Sorry to be a bore, but I’ve had enough of bombs for one day."

"Of course," Reed answered. "I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s all new to me, you see." He prayed the conversation wouldn’t return to his background, or his mission. He’d learned as much as he could about the men in this room, but that hadn't amounted to much. The appalling mortality rate for bomb disposal officers had not helped. Men who died young left few records behind, and much had been destroyed in the turbulent twenty-first century. There had not been time to construct more than the most rudimentary cover for himself and pray that none of the others shared a school or a town with him.

Rodgers was actually one of the few in the room that Reed had been able to research. He had spent the whole war in this unit, and had survived, even rose to command the Company in the end.

"Well I haven’t," Pringle said. "Like to come down to the training room with me, Malcolm?"

"I’d like to see it,’ Reed answered.

*** ***

It was dusk by the time Ash came to get Reed for the trip to their billet.

"Nice car," Reed commented as they climbed into the MG. It was. Small by the standards of the time, its sleek lines contrasted with the boxlike cars of the period. The top was folded down to reveal leather seats and polished wood.

"Thanks," Ash answered. "I was a bit worried I wouldn’t be able to use it much, what with the rationing. But this job has its advantages."

"I don’t mind walking," Reed offered.

Ash chuckled. "Don’t be silly, you’ve got your kit. And Mrs. Baker’s house is a bit of a walk."

"I expect we’ll be doing it in the morning," Reed said.

Reed noted the route as they drove. As they pulled up an older woman came hurrying out of the house. She wore a heavy coat and her blonde hair was tied up in a scarf.

"Oh, hello, Brian, I was wondering when you’d come. I was getting worried. And this must be Mr. Reed? Alan said he’d be with you." Her manner was birdlike, and a bit fragile.

"I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker, we didn’t mean to keep you waiting," Ash said. "Yes, this is Lieutenant Reed."

"Pleased, I’m sure," Mrs. Baker said. "I’m sorry I can’t stop, I’ve got to get down to the shelter. But I’m sure Brian can get you settled, Mr. Reed."

"I’ll see to it, Mum." A much younger woman had appeared at the door. She was blonde like her mother, and Reed could feel her eyes appraising him. As Mrs. Baker disappeared down the sidewalk, she smiled invitingly at him. "I’m Norma," she said.

Reed returned the smile. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Baker." As he shouldered his kitbag, he didn’t miss the annoyed look Ash shot at their hostess.

The house was dark inside except for a light that shone down the hall. Ash led the way to a bedroom at the top of the stairs. As Reed dropped his bag on the carpet, Ash pulled the heavy curtains and turned on the light.

Norma Baker followed them into the room. "Mum’s made up the bed fresh for you, Lieutenant. Let me just turn it down."

As she passed Reed their bodies touched, whether by design or by accident, Reed could not be sure. He stepped back automatically. "Excuse me."

"Oh, that’s all right." Norma flashed Reed a seductive smile before turning back the blankets.

"I think Mr. Reed can manage, Norma," Brian said sharply.

"I’m sure he can, Brian. I just wanted to make him feel welcome. " She gave Reed another smile. "If there’s anything you need, I’m right down the passage."

"Don’t you go down to the shelter?" Reed asked.

"Oh no." Norma’s nose wrinkled. "It smells down there, it really does. And you can’t sleep for all the noise. No, I stay right here."

"Norma is a very brave girl," Brian added.

Reed thought he caught a slight note of sarcasm in his voice, but he couldn’t be sure.

Norma gave Brian a smile as well. "Not as brave as you, I’m sure!" She paused at the door. "It’s early yet, I’m just going to put the kettle on. Come down for a cuppa if you like."

"Thanks, we’ll be down after Mr. Reed gets settled."

"My, aren’t we formal," Norma sniffed. "Mr Reed, indeed!" She smiled again at Reed as she slipped out the door.

Ash shut it. "She’s got you in her sights," he remarked.

"She seemed nice enough." Reed opened his bag and began putting clothing in the cupboard beside his bed.

"Just don’t let her catch you alone when the bombing’s heavy."

Reed turned in time to catch the slight smirk on Ash’s face. "Why not?"

"She says it gives her a thrill." The smirk was larger now. "I barely got away from her my first night here."

*** ***

For the next few days Reed did as his cover demanded. He followed Ash and learned as much as he could. They began early and finished late. The rules were mainly a matter of common sense. Since the job was simple there was time in between to learn the realities of the era and the backgrounds of his fellow officers.

Reed loved the job from the start. The relative simplicity of the munitions made them no less dangerous to disarm. Reed had the added task of having to find a way to examine each bomb for Suliban traps without being observed. Sometimes he was also able to determine the configuration of the fuse, sometimes not. Ash and James were always with him at first as they trained him to do the work and more than once he was forced to go at the task with nothing more than the markings on the fuse to guide him, as the others did. The sheer terror, followed by the exhilaration when a bomb was successfully defused was familiar, and more than a little addictive. Though it was also part of his job as a Starfleet officer, here it was far more intense. It added to the undercurrent of desperate determination that was life during the Blitz.

Reed had never felt more alive. The job brought yet another danger he had never expected and would just as soon have been rid of. He spent each day doing a highly dangerous job, separated from his lover and surrounded by young, highly attractive men. The combination was volatile, to say the least, not to mention a bit disturbing. His relationship with Captain Archer was still new, and he had expected his thoughts to be of him, not of the men of this time. He couldn’t decide if sharing a room with Ash was punishment or reward. The man seemed completely unaware of his beauty. Reed took care that Ash remained unaware of the effect it had on him. More than once he lay awake after a particularly exciting day, followed by the pain/pleasure of watching Ash strip to the skin and climb into bed. He probably could have found himself a willing woman--the bright red Bomb Disposal flash on his sleeve was a powerful aphrodisiac in this time, it seemed, but what he wanted was a man. He wished with all his heart it was Archer he craved, but his body didn’t care. In this time and place, nothing could be more dangerous or irresponsible. He had a mission to complete, he reminded himself on those nights. There were places where men could meet discreetly, and more than a few servicemen did so, but he told himself he wasn’t just any serviceman. More than once, he considered Norma. She had made it more than clear she was willing, even eager. But Ash’s disapproval kept him from doing so.

*** ***

It had become routine by now. After the morning inspection Ash, Reed and the section sergeant, James, would gather in the office to plan the day’s work. The flimsies containing the location and priority of the bombs they were responsible for would be gone over, plotted on the map on the wall and then they would collect the men and be off.

That morning, Lieutenant Pringle stuck his head around the doorframe and then came in. "Brian, Major Luckhurst would like to see you and Malcolm. And I’m to take those." He pointed at the stack of flimsies on the desk. "He’s got another job for you."

Ash handed them over. "Nothing very exciting, I’m afraid. Four Category C’s." He stood up. "Any idea what he’s got in mind?"

Reed and James were on their feet as well. James had put aside his mug of tea and come to understated attention as Pringle had entered the room and now Reed could almost see him shuffling the men and the possible work they might be called to do in his mind as he listened.

"No idea," Pringle said. "But he told me to tell Sergeant James to pick half the Section and see that they’re prepared to spend the night."

"Very good, sir," Sergeant James said. "Shall I go and see to that while you’re talking with the Major, Mr Ash?"

"Yes, please do, sergeant," Ash replied. "Come on, Malcolm, let’s go."

Luckhurst was on the phone when they arrived, but he waved them into chairs while he finished his business.

"Tell me, Mr. Reed, do you know anything about mines?"

"A bit, sir," Reed answered. "I’ve only dealt with our own, though I’ve read reports on the German variety. Fuse consists of a magnetic detonation mechanism and a clock, I believe."

"How would you like to observe a defusing?" Luckhurst asked.

*** ***

The drive to Hastings was long and since the road noise made conversation difficult, Reed had a lot of time to think. It made him extremely uncomfortable to be the subject of tasks chosen for the Section. Might he be changing the timeline simply by being here? Would the Section have been sent anyway? Someone from 97 Company would have been detailed to go. Mines, deployed by parachute as they were, rarely penetrated the ground and so did not need to be dug out. Until recently, they had been used only at sea and so were under the jurisdiction of the Navy. A Navy disposal squad consisted only of an officer, a rating and a driver. For sappers, the Navy had to come to the Royal Engineers. The cooperation between the services during the war had been legendary and in early 1941, bomb disposal units had been sent wherever they were needed as England scrambled to deal with a threat they had not been prepared for.

Knowing that the date of the accident on the altered timeline he was here to prevent was still some days in the future helped ease his mind somewhat but for the first time in days he felt out of his depth. If someone in the Section who would not otherwise have been here died, how would an experienced agent evaluate the situation and repair the damage?

Back in Enterprise, the lives and deaths of the people he was now working with had been historical facts, important to the survival of the future. He hadn’t realized how quickly they would become important to him as coworkers, and in the case of Ash, friends. Though they would be long dead when he returned home, their lives now were beginning to matter to him as much as those of any of his shipmates. The realization frightened him. Knowing what lay ahead for some of these men no longer gave him the sense of power it had when he had arrived. It would be so easy to spare some of them what lay ahead, but to do so could have untold consequences--or none at all. He had no way of knowing which it would be. Reed wondered again just what Daniels knew about the crew of Enterprise, and how he lived with the knowledge.

The Section regarded the whole assignment as a treat. The countryside they were passing through was green and inviting, a far cry from their usual surroundings. Reed was doing his best to look as if he felt the same way. The possibilities whirled around in his mind and after hours spent wrestling with them he was still no nearer an understanding. In desperation he began to go over what he could remember of the defusing procedure for a German mine. While the cooperation between the units had been legendary, some of the decisions that had been made regarding secrecy and the division of labor were ludicrous. There was no information to be had on German parachute mines within the Section. This would change later in the war, but for now it was the official word. Luckily, Reed had known this and had read as much as possible on all types of munitions before he’d left Enterprise, but he had had to absorb so much information, personal as well as technical, in the short time before Daniels had sent him here that he had had to prioritize. Mines were not one of the things he had expected to encounter. The manuals he had skimmed before leaving had not been written yet, nor had the histories of the period he had loved in his teens, so he had not dared to bring them with him. His equipment was a large enough risk to the timeline in itself, but it was necessary. He prayed that his own actions had not changed the sequence of events he had studied before leaving his own time. It was noon when they reached Hastings. It didn’t take long to find the railway line and the naval officer they would be assisting.

Lieutenant George Wilcox was tall and so gaunt that his uniform hung on him. Reed wondered whether it was the stress of the job or whether he had always looked that way. He was hardly the picture of a naval officer as Reed understood such things, but he set his judgments aside.

"Ah, there you are at last," was all they got by way of a greeting. "I’ve been here since morning. Which one of you is Ash?"

"I’m Ash," Brian said. "This is Lieutenant Reed and Sergeant James. Shall we get started?"

"Yes, we should," Wilcox agreed. "Have your men eaten?" His tone implied that after all the time the Section had taken to get here, they had probably stopped along the way.

"No, we came straight here," Ash replied. "We’ve haversack rations, though, and they can eat in shifts once we get the digging started. Where’s the bomb?"

"The *mine* is over that rise," said Wilcox. "The parachute didn’t deploy properly and there’s an entry hole. Come and see."

He led them across the nearest set of tracks and into a triangle of earth bounded by more. Off to one side was a large hole. Shreds of parachute silk lay scattered over the area.

"I thought these mines were set off by significant amounts of iron or steel," Reed remarked, looking at the rails. It was the first time he had spoken and Wilcox looked at him curiously.

"Yes, and I don’t understand why it didn’t go off myself. Unless perhaps it’s too far down. I managed to find myself something to probe for it with but I didn’t have any luck."

Beside the entry hole lay a long bronze rod.

"Digging it out is going to be dicey," Ash said. He picked up the probe. "May I?"

"Please." Wilcox watched with interest as Ash worked. "This is more in your line than mine, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you’ve got non-ferrous picks and shovels?"

"Afraid not," said Ash.

As they settled down to work, Wilcox’s abrasive manner mellowed considerably. Reed was grateful for it. His incessant questioning was far easier to deal with and it showed a natural curiosity that Reed could respect.

Sergeant James disappeared, but by the time the three officers had located the mine he had returned with a couple of wooden shovels.

"All I could find I’m afraid, sir." He and Ash smiled at each other like conspirators.

"Well done, Sergeant James! Where did you come up with these?" Wilcox asked.

"We passed a few farms on the way here," James answered. "When I told them what we were doing they were only too glad to help. So how deep is it?"

"Looks to be ten feet," Wilcox answered.

"Rough going with these," James remarked. "But the lads will manage." He walked back to the safety point to organize the work and the officers followed, Wilcox and Ash in animated conversation, Reed wrapped in the privacy of his thoughts.

Sergeant James had done his job with his usual quiet efficiency. By the time the officers returned there was a well-sandbagged wall behind one of the yard buildings, far enough from the mine to be safe, yet close enough to work from. Both the lorries were parked out of the way, and the equipment they had brought was ready to hand. Somehow he had also realized what was needed and had managed to find it.

Reed envied Ash his second in command, and their easy relationship with each other. There was an innocence to it that touched him. He wondered if either man realized his attraction for the other. To Reed it was obvious. Their shared jokes, the sergeant’s sly little smile as he teased his officer made it plain. There was friendship there, and more. Sergeant James was less of an obsession to Reed than Ash was, though he was no less attractive. The distance of their relative ranks was far more of a barrier than anything between Reed and Ash, and James took pains to preserve it. It was an odd contrast. In his own time, Reed’s barriers had been largely self-created. Archer had attracted him from the beginning, though his style of command left much to be desired. Even if Reed had considered it appropriate to enter into a relationship with his commanding officer, he would have avoided doing so. The first Earth mission was far too important for that. An armory officer had to be ready at any moment to be sent into danger and a captain had to be ready to do so without hesitation. He couldn’t afford to care about anyone aboard as more than a member of the crew, or at most, a friend. It was the only way Reed knew.

Oddly enough, it had been a mine that had shattered those carefully constructed defenses. Pinned to the hull, Reed had been helpless to stop Archer from trying to continue the process of defusing it. Phlox’s drugs had only lowered his defenses further. He had found himself telling his captain things he had never told any of the rest of his shipmates, things that would have shamed him had he been in his right mind. He had found acceptance, even respect, in his captain’s eyes. The shame had come later, when he had tried to kill himself to save that captain, and his ship. It was the complete reversal of everything Reed believed.

It changed things between them, and in the end, Reed had given in to Archer’s carefully waged campaign. He’d taken his time. He’d read Reed in a way no other man ever had. He had stolen into Reed’s life and heart so slowly that by the time Reed realized what was happening it was too late. Not that he didn’t have a choice, but the choice was so obvious by then that refusal was unthinkable. Whether Reed took the final step or not, he knew he would do his duty, and Archer his, and that a part of each of them would always be with the other regardless. Why not accept what was already the truth?

As time passed, Reed was finding it easier to think of Archer instead of the men around him. It was reassuring to feel the almost unbearable need for closeness shift from this present to his own. To Reed it meant that what he shared with Archer was more than attraction and hero worship. He still wasn’t sure if it was strong enough to last, but it would at least survive this assignment. For a time he hadn’t been sure that it would.

The men of the Section were standing around a small table where Wilkins, the safety point man, was handing out mugs of tea and thick sandwiches. Reed remembered how Wilkins had described his job to him. ‘I’m here to tell the tale if the others cop it,’ was how he had put it. He then had gone on to relate several hair-raising stories of bomb disposal assignments gone wrong. Reed had seen the attempt to terrify him for what it was, and had calmly gone on to observe Ash defuse the first live bomb he had seen.

The officers went back to wait behind the sandbags. Wilcox gratefully accepted the mug of tea Wilkins handed him and gulped half of it down on the spot. The rest soon followed.

"Have you eaten?" Ash asked as Wilkins refilled Wilcox’s mug.

"Never thought of it." Wilcox accepted the mug and the sandwich Wilkins dug out of a haversack. "Thank you," he said before he began to eat.

*** ***

It was late afternoon before the mine was exposed. The three men had spent the time talking shop. Even if it had not been necessary to maintain his cover, Reed would have enjoyed himself. Once fed and with the work progressing, Wilcox was far more likable than he had seemed on first meeting. The vacation like quality of the past few days was fast settling over Reed again.

It came to an abrupt end when the mine was exposed.

"I can’t have you down there," Wilcox said flatly. "One man, one bomb. Isn’t that the rule?"

"Yes," said Ash. "But Malcolm came here to observe."

"Seems to me he learned enough this afternoon to make the trip worth his while," Wilcox replied. "This is a unique situation. I doubt he’ll learn much worth risking his life over. Look, it’s going to be dark soon. I need to get this done while I still have enough light to work. I don’t have time to give lessons."

"You were quite thorough this afternoon, George," Reed said. "But that isn’t the same as actual experience." Reed didn’t blame the man, and he only spoke because it was expected of a man in his particular position. While it would have been interesting to see the actual defusing, it was neither necessary to his mission, nor would it have been anything he hadn’t had explained to him thoroughly in the past few hours. If anything, Reed wished he could take Wilcox’s place. Nothing about the job seemed particularly challenging to a man who had had Starfleet armory training, and who carried a few implements from the future in his pockets. Wilcox was on the ragged edge. So many mines had been dropped in odd areas in the past months that the Navy was stretched to capacity. The last thing the man needed was someone underfoot while he tried to do his job.

"Major Luckhurst was very specific," Ash added.

"So report me," said Wilcox. "It’s my mine, and my decision. There’s just about enough room in that hole for one man to work. I’d hate to blow us up because I couldn’t get past you, Mr. Reed." With that, he took his bag of tools from the waiting seaman and strode off toward the hole.

Reed looked toward the rise, then walked back with Ash toward the sandbags.

The ground heaved sickeningly as the roar of the explosion split the still air. Reed and Ash threw themselves flat. Dirt rained down on them and a terrifying thrumming passed overhead as the echoes faded. There was a loud metallic clatter. Reed’s dazed mind realized that it must have been a rail, torn loose and sent scything across the railway yard.

Reed leapt to his feet and joined the rest of the men as they ran for the pit.

Crater was far more accurate. A jagged circle, rimmed at intervals with the twisted remains of rails was all that remained. No one broke the awful silence as they stood at the edge. Reed felt that he should be doing something, but in the same instant he realized that there was nothing to be done.

Sergeant James was the first to move. The rating who had blocked Reed’s path was standing at the edge, as they all were. Silent tears ran down his face. James took him gently by the shoulders and brought him away.

That simple action broke the spell. The men began to move, to search the crater. Wilcox’s man sat on a chair, staring out at nothing as Mulley, Ash’s batman, tried to get him to drink a mug of tea. Sergeant James had taken the Section in hand and the safety point was quickly disappearing into the lorries again.

Ash and Reed had their hands full with the explanations and other arrangements. Reed was grateful for it. Work blunted the horror a bit, gave him a purpose and kept the shock at bay. It was only later when it was all over, the men billeted near the railway and Ash and Reed at the local pub sitting quietly over dinner that the search for meaning began.

Ash felt it too. Neither of them did more than pick at their food. The silence that had hung over the crater now filled them. Within it, Reed’s thoughts seemed to echo.

Presently, Ash rose and went over to the bar. He came back with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. "Come on."

Together they climbed the stairs to their room. Ash threw his belt and hat across one of the beds. He sat down on the other and poured them both a large drink. The bottle clinked against the lamp as he set it down on the bedside table. He handed a glass to Reed. "Cheers."

They drank the first glass in the same numb silence. Gradually, Reed felt the alcohol loosen the ice within him. Still, it was Ash who was the first to speak.

"Luckhurst will want a complete report. I gave him the gist of it over the telephone."

"Perhaps by the time we get back I’ll know what to tell him." Reed held out his empty glass for a refill.

"He’s good at asking the right questions," Ash said. "All we have to do is answer them. There’s nothing to worry about."

"I’m not worried," Reed said. "I just need some time to make sense of it all."

Ash looked at the blank white ceiling, as if the answers would be found there. "Have you ever been through this before?"

"What, seen people die?" Reed nodded. "Yes. It never gets any easier, though. I keep thinking that if only I’d done something differently he might be alive. I keep wondering what it was that he did. I should have been down there with him."

"Why? So you could have gone up with him?" The words came out sharply and Ash fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer. "Sometimes there’s nothing that you could have done differently." Ash stared at the amber liquid in his glass. "And we’ll never know what happened down there."

Reed took another drink. It didn’t help much. He hadn’t expected it to. Along with the loss he was ashamed to admit, even to himself, his relief that it had been Wilcox and not Ash. The alcohol was making it difficult to go over the sequence of events yet again. Reed knew that it made no difference. His brain was racing, trying to piece together a chain with half the links missing. "If we could just know what happened--"

"If we did, we’d be dead along with him," Ash broke in. "Leave it, Malcolm."

Reed turned his glass in his hands, rolling it between his palms. He wished, not for the first time, that Jon were here. Since the accident his thoughts had been pulled back to Enterprise, and to his captain. He needed his lover’s closeness far more than talk and whisky. The close calls always had this effect on him. After the danger had passed, it was as if his body had to prove to itself he had survived. It was a weakness that he wasn’t proud of. Jon had understood and accepted that part of Malcolm as he’d accepted everything else. It didn’t help that Ash was beautiful. Reed had been fighting off that thought for days now. It seemed the honorable thing to do, if not for Jon, then for Ash. Ash had given Reed no reason to think he was interested in anything more than friendship. He turned his mind back to the conversation. "Sheer luck, isn’t it?"

"A large part of it is," Ash agreed. "There's a point where you must stop trying to understand what happened and simply accept the other officer’s judgment. It was George’s bomb, not ours."

"That’s what he said." Wilcox hadn’t just said it, he’d demanded it. It was strange to think that Wilcox had known that he was possibly demanding his own death, and preventing Reed’s. Thoughts of the accident kept other more dangerous ones at bay. Jon, after all, was centuries away, while Ash was sitting right here, warm and completely desirable. Reed reminded himself that this was a time when attraction between men was completely unacceptable. He thought of his father’s house. The old man had been old-fashioned in more ways than one. He pictured his father’s face as it would be if he told him about Jon and all the others who had gone before. It helped, more than he thought it would.

"Yes he did," said Ash. "And in similar circumstances I would have done the same. Every bomb disposal officer would." His eyes dropped and he studied the floor between his feet. "The only thing that gives me any comfort is that it wasn’t you."

Reed felt an uncertain smile touch his lips. "I was thinking the same thing, you know." The small confession made the larger secret easier to bear. "I was feeling rather rotten about it too. Thank you."

Ash looked up. Their eyes met in complete understanding. "I think that’s fairly normal," he said after a moment. "It’s surely easier when one has something within one’s control to feel guilty about."

"I don’t understand."

Ash smiled. "I think I’m just relieved not to have lost another friend."

"Who was it the last time?" Reed asked.

Ash was silent long enough for Reed to think he had asked the wrong question. He was about to apologize when Ash spoke.

"Ken Machan. He wasn’t with us for long. I was training him." Ash lit a cigarette. "I came back from a weekend’s leave one night and there he was. I remember thinking what a damned inconvenience it was to come home to a stranger, but by the time we went to bed he’d won me over completely. The next day I was assigned to show him the ropes. He was so determined to take on his fair share." Ash paused, remembering. "He had a fiancee, a girl named Angie. They were obviously devoted to each other. He was killed defusing his first bomb. I’ll never know if he got something wrong, or if it was just bad luck."

"I’m sorry," said Reed softly. It was completely inadequate, but it was all he had to offer.

Ash smoked in silence for a moment. "I thought they were married. She’d told me something about having ‘taken the plunge’ and I misunderstood. He left her pregnant, with nothing. He never even knew about the baby. Damned little we could do about it in the end." Ash’s eyes were barren. "It could just as easily been me. At the time, I almost wished it had been. George was at least an experienced officer."

Reed met those eyes. "If something does happen to me, remember, I volunteered."

Ash looked away. "We’ll just have to make sure nothing does." He took one last drag from his cigarette and stubbed it out.

"So do you have a girl?" It wasn’t much, as changes of subject went, but it was all Reed could think of.

"No." Ash stared out into nothing. "After Ken, I didn’t really have the heart for it." He came back to himself. "What about you, Malcolm, anyone special?"

"No women in my life, " said Reed. "Things being as they are, I can’t say I’m sorry."

"Ken had a point of view on that," Ash said. "He said that putting one’s life on hold for the duration really would be defeat."

Reed took another drink before he spoke. "He had a point, I think. If I had a girl, I couldn’t see breaking it off. But I don’t know that I’d start something serious, especially in this job. Doesn’t seem fair, somehow."

"You can’t plan that sort of thing,"

"No, you can’t," Reed answered. "But you can keep it from going further than it should." He found himself staring at the curve of Ash’s lips as he held a match to another cigarette. The alcohol sang in his veins, and he found it hard to turn his eyes away. "Can I have one?" he asked, desperate for a distraction.

Ash passed the box over. "I thought you didn’t smoke."

"I didn’t," Reed answered. He took a white cylinder from the box and let Ash hold a match to it. The acrid smoke filled his lungs as he inhaled, then coughed it back out again. The discomfort broke the tension of the moment.

Ash laughed as he shook out the match and rescued Reed’s cigarette from the floor where it had fallen. "You mean you never tried this in school?"

It took a moment before Reed had enough breath to answer. "No--" He reached for his glass, forgetting it contained neat whisky. He took a gulp and was choking again.

Ash rose and poured him some water.

When Reed had gotten it down, he looked with amazement at the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray. "I don’t understand the appeal."

"I think at first it has to do with the lure of the forbidden," Ash said, smiling. "After a time, it grows on you." He took another puff. "You really must have been the most awful little prat. You probably turned the other boys in."

It was Reed’s turn to laugh. "That would have made me very well liked, now wouldn’t it? Just because I didn’t indulge myself doesn’t mean I’d spoil it for the rest of them." The invention came easily now. Schools in Reed’s time had moved on to other forbidden fruit. Reed hoped Ash wouldn’t ask the next logical question.

"So where did you go to school?"

Vain hope, that. "In London." Reed wondered if a vague answer would be enough. He took a cautious drag from the cigarette. The taste was horrible, even in his drunken state, but he managed not to choke. "I think I’m getting the hang of this," he said in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

Ash poured them both another drink. "I suppose this makes me a bad influence."

"The worst," Reed declared.

"Well we’ve taken care of drinking and smoking, all that’s left is sex."

Suddenly, Reed didn’t feel like laughing. He looked up and their eyes met. What he saw in Ash’s astonished him. Did Ash know? Was the man teasing him, or did he truly not know what other meanings could be read into that statement? Most unlikely of all, did he mean it? Reed was just drunk enough to risk finding out. He was tired of being teased whether Ash meant it or not. He smiled challengingly. "Are you as good at that as you are at the other two?"

"You be the judge." Ash leaned over and kissed Reed full on the lips.

It was like drowning, a wave of feeling breaking over Reed and dragging him helplessly along. He couldn’t have stopped had he wanted to. Ash pulled the cigarette from his fingers and dropped it in the ashtray. The same taste was on Ash’s lips, and when he kissed his way up Ash’s neck, the same smell was in his hair. In a way it was the smell of the era. When he had arrived it had been everywhere, a stale curtain hanging in every room. Now he knew it would always remind him of Ash. He felt arms go around him, pulling him closer, and then they were pressed tightly against each other. Reed let Ash kiss him again, meeting his open mouthed assault with equal passion. The layers of coarse clothing were too much, but Reed still had enough self-control left not to go any further.

Ash seemed to sense his reticence. He pulled back slightly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"God, no." Reed whispered the words in Ash’s ear, then circled it with his tongue. He smiled as Ash’s body jerked against his. "Do you?"

"No." But Ash pulled back. Reed let him go, though it was hard. "Just a minute." Ash got up and locked the door. He stood before Reed and took off his uniform jacket, then his shirt.

For a moment, Reed just stared. After so many nights of pretending not to notice, he was free to look openly when Ash undressed. Ash’s upper body lacked the development years of Starfleet training had given Reed’s, but he was beautiful in a lean, almost ethereal way. His skin shone pale and smooth in the lamplight. Reed rose and took off his own upper garments as Ash watched.

The chill made them come together for warmth sooner than they might have, even with the heat of the whisky. The feel of Ash’s bare skin against his own went straight to Reed’s groin. Soon they were straining against each other, their hands running greedily over bare flesh, stopping their gasps of pleasure with lips and tongues.

By the time they lay down, Reed was lost. He filled Ash and was filled by him, and by the time he fell asleep in the other officer’s arms each knew that they had a refuge in the other. Whatever might happen, for that moment they were together.

*** ***

The next morning, Reed woke alone. The foul taste in his mouth and the pain in his head were no more than he had expected but they paled next to the knowledge of what he had done. What had he been thinking? Ash had certainly been willing, but to seduce a fellow officer when both of them were drunk was surely the height of stupidity. Worse than that, he had taken what his body had wanted without even a thought for Jon. A sick shame filled him, stronger than the hangover.

An urgent call from his bladder forced him to rise. He did so slowly and pulled on his trousers and shirt to make the trip down the passage.

The door opened and Ash walked in. He looked no better than Reed felt. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," Reed answered. He knew he should say something else, but had no idea whether it should be an apology or a compliment. After all, none of this was Ash’s fault.

For a moment they stood there looking at each other.

"If you want to change Sections, I’ll speak to Luckhurst," Ash began. "What I did was inexcusable. I can only--"

"I don’t want to change a thing Brian," Reed interrupted. "Unless you do." He would not do it again, no matter how much he wanted to, but he wouldn’t let Brian take the blame for it either. He prayed that Jon would understand when he told him what he had done.

Relief was plain in Ash’s smile. "You don’t?"

Reed smiled back. "Of course not. Did you really think I didn’t know what I was doing?"

"Well you seemed to," Ash said slyly.

"I think we both know the procedure," Reed returned. The tenseness between them vanished as they grinned at each other.

A sharp knock on the door made them both jump.

"Yes?" Ash was closest and he turned around and opened it. Sergeant James stood in the passage.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but Major Luckhurst needs to speak with you."

"I’ll be right down." Ash grabbed his jacket and tie and followed Sergeant James down the stairs.

*** ***

Over London, in a dark German bomb bay, a bulkhead bulged outward. A shape detached itself and slithered into humanoid form. It passed like a shadow to the racks full of squat metal shapes. It seemed made of the same dark metal, a strange ghost haunting the machinery of death. Impossibly, if anyone had been there to see, it appeared to reach inside itself and pull out a small cylinder that shimmered in its grasp. When it placed its hand on the chosen bomb, it merged with the metal, flowing across the steel surface, and then sinking within. It stayed there a long few minutes before withdrawing and becoming again a separate dark shadow.

It squatted on the bay doors and waited.

When the deadly cargo fell to earth, the shadow went with it. It fell with the bombs, but as the planes receded, it flattened and slowed. By the time it reached the ground it was moving back and forth, more leaf like than anything. It resumed its humanoid shape and disappeared into the shadows.

*** ***

The house had been badly damaged. The bomb’s entry point could be clearly seen and the upper story was a crisscross of fallen beams, lath and plaster. The one below was scarcely better. The possessions of the family it had made homeless were scattered among the wreckage. Ash and Reed picked their way down the half choked staircase to the cellar as Sergeant James put the sappers to work on the rubble.

The beams from their torches seemed to grow brighter as the gloom settled down on them. The cellar was not large and their lights soon showed them the limits of the space.

"Mind how you go," Ash said. "It could be under anything down here. We’re in no hurry. If it’s an impact fuse we don’t want to set it off."

"And if it’s a clock, we might not have the time to waste." The darkness covered Reed’s indulgent smile. Ash was taking his assignment as trainer very seriously. "Or perhaps it has one of each."

Ash chuckled. "Anxious for experience, Malcolm? It may not be in this cellar at all. It could have gone deeper. Keep your eye out for any holes."

Both men continued their careful search as they talked. Above them they could hear the sounds of the wreckage being shifted.

"Here it is."

Reed made his way carefully to Ash’s side and knelt down with him beside the dirt-smeared cylinder. Ash’s ear was against the casing, obscuring the single fuse and Reed held still, waiting. He hardly needed to see the numbers stamped into the metal to know it was a Type 17, a timeclock. Ash’s actions made that clear.

A long moment later, Ash straightened. "So far, so good."

Reed leaned forward and looked at the fuse. Beside the number was another, more ominous mark. ZUS 40, the latest booby trap. "We’ve got our work cut out for us."

"Yes." Ash stood up. "Let’s go tell Sergeant James to get that stairway cleared so we can get a clockstopper on this bitch before she decides to wake up."

"Could I stay down here a moment?" Reed asked. "I just want to get a good look at her." He could almost feel his scanner in his hand.

"Whatever for?" Ash glanced at the bomb, then back at Reed. "You’ve seen one of these fuses before. I’d rather you waited till we get the clockstopper on."

"It’s not the same," Reed improvised quickly. He needed to know now if they were dealing with a German booby trap, or Suliban. If it were the latter, any normal procedure could be the death of them. "I’ve followed a few hunches in the lab that have led to solutions. I think I may be onto something now. I won’t be long, I promise." Even as the lie left his lips he realized how lame it sounded.

"Can’t it wait?" Ash looked impatiently upward. "Nothing’s going to change down here unless this old girl goes up, and I don’t want any of us down here if she does."

"If I can find another way to deal with a ZUS 40, it’ll be worth the risk."

"I doubt you’ll do it sitting down here. It’s against every rule for a reason."

"You might be surprised," Reed said. "In any case, it only takes one of us to get them to run the clockstopper out, and the sooner the better, eh? I promise I won’t be long."

Ash sighed. "See that you aren’t. If I don’t see you in five minutes I’ll come back down for you, hunch or no. This is really against my better judgment."

"Thanks." Reed found himself addressing Ash’s back as the other officer went back the way they had come. He waited until Ash reached the top of the stairs before taking out his scanner.

Reed found himself gazing hungrily at the greenish screen. There was no movement within the bomb at all. The clock was truly stopped but the interior of the bomb, which should have showed up clearly on his scanner, was strangely obscured. He could see the great tube of the fuse pocket running down the center of the casing and the general outline of the fuse he expected, but no real detail. Was the instrument malfunctioning? Reed altered a few settings and pointed the device upward. No, it picked up the biosigns of the men working above, and when he turned it on himself, the readings were clear. He reset the device and tried again. It was as if the bomb were covered in frosted glass. His eyes were glued to the screen as he tried other places.

It was at the fat end of the bomb, where the tailfins had been, that he finally found what he was looking for. He could only stare at it for a moment as he felt the weight of the future settle on his shoulders. This was the point where everything had changed. There was nothing wrong with his scanner. The milky glow was coming from a Suliban field generator set under the fuse. The field was an open-ended cylinder running just under the shell of the bomb. If they drilled into the casing to steam out the explosive filling, currently the only known way of dealing with this booby trap, the moment any of their tools penetrated half a centimeter inside, the bomb would go up.

*** ***

"Sergeant James?" Ash found his NCO and most of his men searching the rubble pile. "We’ve found it. It’s in the cellar. One fuse, Type 17, and quiet for now."

James’s eyes flicked about behind Ash. "You’ll be wanting the clockstopper, then?"

"We’ll need to clear the stairs first." Ash paused. "We’ll also have to go back to HQ for the steam sterilizer."

"Yes sir," James said. "I’ll see to that after the clockstopper." He looked toward the rubble again.

"Yes." Ash knew exactly who James was looking for, and didn’t relish telling him where Reed was. Officer or no, James had all but trained him and the farther he got from the cellar, the more foolish he felt for leaving Reed down there. He walked toward the safety point as his sergeant organized the Section.

"Sir, where’s Mr. Reed?" James fell into step with Ash as the men streamed towards the stairs.

"Said he needed to take a good look at the fuse." Ash blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke.

"Sir?"

"That’s what he said." Ash smiled sheepishly. "Said he had a hunch of some kind, was absolutely set on staying. I said he was to be back up in five minutes or I’d go and fetch him."

"I reckon it’s been five minutes by now, sir. Don’t you?"

*** ***

Reed slipped a small silver instrument from his pocket. He set it, then aimed it straight down the center of the fuse. His scanner in one hand, the laser probe in the other, he carefully fused together first the clockwork and then the secondary booby trap, a spring that set off the bomb if the fuse was removed. The power source on the field generator itself spiked as he went to work on it, and he hastily shut down the probe. In any case, he was out of time. Quickly he shoved his equipment in his pockets and picked up his torch as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Sergeant James met him at the foot of the stairs.

"Here now, what are you playing at, Mr. Reed?" The sergeant’s voice was pitched so a person a yard away would not have heard. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I hadn’t planned on it, sergeant." Reed looked past him up the stairs. "I just needed a better look at one of these."

"That’s what Mr. Ash said," James returned. "I don’t see why you couldn’t have waited till we got the equipment down, but no matter. Away, now." He jerked his head up towards the light.

"I’m sorry. Of course you’re right." Reed tried to look contrite as he let James walk him back up the stairs. Horrocks and the rest of the sappers were working their way down them, clearing a path wide enough to bring the equipment into the cellar.

"Now go back to the safety point till we’re finished, Mr Reed," Sergeant James said quietly when they reached the street. "I’d hate to lose you for no good reason."

The almost schoolmasterish tone James took would have been irritating if Reed hadn’t realized just how much he’d scared the sergeant. Yes, he had bent, if not broken every safety rule in the book and Sergeant James would never know just how necessary it had been that he did so.

Reed walked slowly back to the safety point, taking the time to think on what he’d seen. Now that he’d found the actual trap, his mission didn’t seem so overwhelming. It was both generalized and elegant at the same time. Unless the Suliban knew something he didn’t, which Reed had to admit was quite likely, this trap was aimed at either or both of the men. It had taken some considerable amount of time to set up if the Suliban records were as poor as the ones Reed had used. At least one previous trip had been necessary just to find out which bombs to target. The trap itself was almost entirely within the period. The one alien component would be destroyed in the blast.

Ash was waiting for him at the safety point. One hand was draped over the sandbags, a lit cigarette in it. Reed pulled out his own cigarettes and followed suit. Surrounded by smokers, he had fallen into the appalling habit quite naturally. Knowing that he would leave it behind with this time made him enjoy the lightheaded, contemplative feeling a cigarette produced all the more.

"Any revelations?"

"Not really," Reed admitted. "Though I’m developing quite a respect for German armorers."

Ash chuckled. "Why? Because they’re so remarkably persistent in their efforts to blow us all up?"

Reed smiled back. "Well, you have to admit they’re ingenious. They introduce a new fuse or a variation every few weeks! It really is damned hard to keep up with them."

"I could do with a little less ingenuity," Ash said soberly.

"I think we all could," Reed replied. "But I must admit I admire the problem."

"Well, we’ve at least got a way round it for now," said Ash. "I’ve sent half the Section for the steam sterilizer. It’ll take that many of them just to carry the bloody thing."

"That’s just it though, isn’t it?" And a far more immediate problem than anyone here realized, Reed thought. "Between the equipment and the time required, we’re all but dead in the water. I mean, it’s an ingenious solution, but hardly elegant." Reed found himself calculating the likely times and racking his brain for the best way to get down there before Ash’s "way round" the problem killed them.

"It may not be elegant, but it works," said Ash shortly.

Reed realized his misstep. Ash had, after all, been the first officer to test the contraption. "Yes, it does, and it’s a damn sight better than nothing. But not every officer has your talent, Brian. There has to be a way around it that anyone can use." And a way that didn’t depend on technology from the future, he added silently. Reed found it hard to accept that even if he did come up with such a way, he couldn’t share it for fear of altering the future. These two were the only deaths he could avert.

"I hope you find it." Ash accepted the peace offering. "So far you’re the only boffin who’s bothered to start from scratch."

Reed smiled at the archaic term. "I’m the only man so far with scientific training who didn’t run off first thing to join your lot. Sometimes I think I should have done." It was pure fantasy, part of the persona Reed had created for himself, but Reed knew that had he been born in this era, he would have done so and loved it as he loved his job in Enterprise.

"Glad you didn’t actually. Seems to me you’re needed where you are." When Ash smiled like that, it only emphasized how young he was. Reed forced a smile, knowing how terribly short a time Brian Ash would have to enjoy his unspoiled youth, and how powerless he was to change his future. Knowing the future sounded lovely, but knowing it and not having the power to change it could be a special hell.

They smoked in silence, the minutes dragging for Reed. It really wasn’t all that long before Sergeant James came to tell them the way was clear and the clockstopper on its way down. The clockstopper was just the sort of technology Reed had meant. It was really no more than a gigantic magnet. With a little training, any competent officer could use one. Placed around the fuse and switched on, it rendered a clockwork fuse inoperable--for as long as the current lasted.

The Section had done this particular task many times since the equipment had been invented and it was a positive pleasure for Reed to watch them at it. The air of informality that pervaded the Section, and indeed the Company had set Reed’s teeth on edge at first, but as he grew used to it he saw it for what it was. At their tasks the men were competent and workmanlike, but few had chosen the Army. Those few, Sergeant James being one, stood out among the rest. What Reed had seen first as slackness he gradually came to recognize as an adaptation individual to each man, an expression of freedom in a life far more regimented than most of them would have chosen.

Reed jumped as Sergeant James appeared at his side. "She’ll stay quiet now sir, if you want to take a good long look."

"Thank you sergeant," Reed answered. "I think I will."

The cellar was deserted and Reed was profoundly grateful. He crouched down by the tail of the bomb and took a scan to make sure that all was as it had been before. It was the work of a moment to unscrew the wide ring that held the fuse in place, and as he withdrew the fuse, he was amazed that in the end, it had been so easy.

His mind was drawn back to the chain of events that had brought him to this place.

*** ***

When communications had gone dead, it hadn’t seemed alarming. You expected a few problems in a new ship on her planet’s first deep space cruise. Communications problems had been a part of their job from the start. Since they were outward bound, there had been no noticeable changes in worlds any of the crew had visited to alert them to just how much their universe had altered.

Then Daniels had reappeared. After he had spoken with Archer, the captain called a shipwide briefing, held on the bridge but broadcast to the entire ship.

The situation room was crowded when Reed walked in. Daniels was sitting in front of an oddly shaped keypad, and above it a strangely colored display hung in the air. Reed looked at it curiously as he slid into a seat next to Trip. "What have I missed?" he whispered.

"Nothin’ much," Trip whispered back. "Hoshi still can’t contact Earth, and Daniels says she should stop trying. He was just getting to why."

"--thought you couldn’t return to this timeline," Archer was saying.

"Things have changed," Daniels answered. "The Suliban accomplished their mission. Zefram Cochrane was never born." Daniels paused a moment and watched their faces as the information sank in.

"How?" Archer recovered first.

"They went back generations, farther than they’ve yet been traced. They didn’t touch the direct line. They knew we were watching every member of that. " Daniels tapped a key and the display paused and seemed to turn sideways. An old-fashioned photo blossomed in the air before them. "This is Brian Ash, a lieutenant in the Royal Engineers, circa 1941." Another slight scrolling of the display, and another picture appeared. "This is Sergeant James, his NCO. They worked together defusing explosives in the Second World War. In the original timeline, both survived the war, and Ash went on to marry and have children. One of those children, Mary Ash, came to the United States during the 1960s. She ran a "crash pad" in the Haight Ashbury and took care of Zefram Cochrane’s maternal great-grandmother one night when she had taken an unwise combination of drugs and alcohol. She saved her life, but made no other pivotal contribution to the timeline.

In the altered timeline, James was killed defusing a bomb in 1941. Ash, who was maimed by an antipersonnel mine in 1943, didn’t have James to help him make the adjustment to civilian life. He sent his fiancee, the mother of Mary Ash, away soon after his accident and he killed himself in 1946."

"So why are you here instead of correcting the timeline?" Surprisingly, it was T’Pol who asked the question.

"It isn’t that simple," Daniels answered. "I was assigned to your ship before I lost contact with my time. You shouldn’t still be here, but you are. We didn’t know why when I left but we’ve always known that this ship is a focal point. As long as you exist, some part of your timeline exists.

"So what will you do? Wait for your superiors to find us?" A faint disgust underlay her calm words.

"No." Daniels hit another key and the images that hung in the air disappeared. "Of course not. But now I’m an agent in place. I can’t leave this time or this ship, but I can do a lot more from here than you think." He looked at the faces around the table. "One of you will have to go. There’s no one else."

*** ***

It was late evening when Reed’s door chimed. "Come." He had expected it to be Jon, but Daniels was the one who walked in.

"Hello, Mr. Reed." Daniels looked briefly about the small room before taking the chair that was offered.

"What can I do for you?" Reed slid back into his desk chair.

"I see you’ve started your research already." Daniels indicated the computer screen where what looked like an x-ray of a complicated cylinder was displayed in stark black and white.

Reed smiled and shook his head. "Hardly that. I was just curious. Haven’t looked at these old files in years." He indicated the screen. "The Type 17 probably killed more bomb disposal officers than any other fuse."

"Could you get past it?"

Reed chuckled, a short burst of sound. "Of course. With the right tools. Simple, really, if you know what’s inside. All these old fuses were simple electrical devices." He tapped on the screen at two projections on the top of the cylinder. "As the bomb was dropped, these plungers charged a condenser or a battery, depending on the fuse type. Depending on the armorer’s settings, the charge reached full capacity in the air, or shortly after impact. They’d found that a bomb that didn’t explode immediately caused far more trouble than one that did." He tapped on a short cylinder screwed into the bottom of the fuse. "That’s the gaine. Penthrite wax, set off by the charge in the condensers or by a clockwork mechanism." Another tap, at a further cylinder cut away, but clearly surrounding the gaine. "The gaine set off these pellets of picric acid, and they in turn set off the main fillling, usually amatol or TNT. Over time, various booby traps were introduced. You could usually tell by the fuse markings, but not always." Reed turned to face Daniels. "Those officers had no idea what they were dealing with and only the most primitive of equipment when these first appeared. It’s a wonder more of them didn’t die. It took a lot of courage to dispose of these, day after day."

"Yes." Daniels smiled. "Every age has its heroes."

"Until now."

"Some things never change." The smile didn’t leave Daniels’ face. The sight of it set Reed on edge. It was unsettling to sit here talking to a man who knew his future, and who could not share that knowledge. Reed wondered if Daniels would if he had the option.

"There are no more ages." Were there? Did Daniels know that as well, Reed wondered?

"We don’t know that."

Reed shivered at the uncanny echo of his thoughts. "In my time that’s true."

"It’s just as true in mine." Daniels face was grave now. "No one, even in my time, knows their own future. When a timeline is changed we don’t even know our past, only the shape it used to have. All we can do is try to restore it. If we fail, the consequences are borne by all the ages." He leaned forward. "We can’t fail."

"We?" Reed felt ice trail along his spine.

"You have the instincts of a temporal agent, Mr. Reed. You know when to speak and when to keep silent. And I found you tonight studying the very object that started the cascade of events that changed time."

It seemed to Reed that he could feel time shift around him, his future changing even though he knew nothing of how it would have unfolded. He stood on the brink of something and it drew him in even as it terrified him. "What do I have to do?"

*** ***

"Of course I want to go, sir. There’s no one else who can."

"That’s not true." Archer turned away, unable to meet Reed’s eyes.

"Who else, then?" Reed resisted the impulse to put his arms around Jon. "I know the job, and I’m not unfamiliar with the period. Can you name anyone else in this ship who can say the same?"

"It’s not that hard to pick up, Malcolm." Archer stared out the port into the emptiness of space. "And we have a temporal agent here already. Why does it have to be you?"

Reed’s face showed his unhappiness, though Archer couldn’t see it. "Why shouldn’t it be me? Daniels is our only link to the past. The future doesn’t exist as we knew it any more. If he goes and can’t repair the timeline, we won’t have any way to try again. We’ll be marooned, even our world won’t be our own."

Archer turned to face Reed. "At least we’d be together." He enveloped his lover in a fierce hug. The warmth of the solid body in his arms calmed him somewhat, but it didn’t change a thing. His feelings didn’t matter when it came to his duty. The ship and his world had to come first.

"We’ll be together when I get back, Jon." Reed’s voice was slightly muffled as he buried his face in Archer’s shoulder.

*** ***

It was fitting that his last thought was of Jonathan Archer.

He never felt the blast. The bomb tore his body to bits as the obscene flower of light and sound bloomed and was gone. The sound of it echoed longer as did the sounds of the fragments of what had once been a house falling back to earth.

The men of 347 Section ran for the crater, Sergeant James at the fore, but there was nothing for them to do. James stood at the edge of the tumbled ground and bowed his head. The awful emptiness was worse than ever before. How many officers would he bury before this war was over?

*** ***

The shimmering curtain retained an echo of the man who passed through it for a moment and then was clear again. It folded in on itself and was gone.

As he picked up the device it had sprung from, it beeped once and then came abruptly to life. He touched a control.

"Agent in Place Daniels, report to base. Repeat--..."

The message cycled twice, then three times.

Daniels listened impassively. So Reed had not succeeded after all. It had only been a moment since he’d left him in the past, but everything he had done was now part of history.

At the end of the third repeat he cut the connection and switched on his database. He hesitated a moment, unsure, before he came to a decision. This time, the device refreshed itself, overwriting his terminal with the current timeline. He felt quiet tears sting his eyes as he watched an echo of his world return.

Back, and then farther back. Entries became terser and gaps grew wider. Unstable zones, shown in red, spread themselves across the display. As he expected, the trouble centered in 1941. Quickly he scrolled forward. Mary Ash, born 1947. Brian Ash, died 1994. William James, died 1979. All was as it should be, at least for now.

Daniels touched a key. "Agent Daniels to Base. Code 9-Blue. Immediate communication required."

The recorded message began to cycle again. His hand darted forward, shutting it off, and then he shut down the display.

Several possibilities occurred to him, none of them pleasant. His possible courses of action were no more so.

*** ***

It was well past midnight when Archer’s door chime sounded. He hugged his blankets closer to him and angrily flipped over. Then, mindful of his duty, he fought free of the bedding and answered his door.

Daniels stood calmly in the corridor.

"What’s wrong?" It was plain on his face, after all.

Daniels didn’t even bother with pretense. "Everything. May I come in?"

"Why not?" Archer stepped aside to let his visitor in. "What happened?" he asked as the door slid closed.

"Reed accomplished his mission," Daniels began. He stopped. Where did you start when there was no unified sequence of events?

"And?" Archer flopped into a chair and gestured for Daniels to do the same.

"1941 has become the latest front in the temporal cold war." There. That was accurate, and the root of the matter. "The timeline is restored, at least for now."

Archer briefly considered confirming this with the comm officer on duty but decided against it. The information was here before him and there was a question he had to ask, both as the captain and as Jonathan Archer. "Can we get Malcolm back?"

"I don’t know," Daniels said softly. "I don’t know if it’s wise to try right now. The late twentieth century is extremely unstable." He realized then just what the right alternative was. "I’m going to go back there. I was considering sending another operative but there’s no one else with the training for this. I can’t contact Base, but a recognizable timeline is in place at their coordinates."

"What does that mean?" Archer spoke quickly. "Can’t you check your database?"

Daniels smiled uncertainly. "Yes, but I can’t be sure of the accuracy of the future I’m seeing. The past, however, is more certain from points forward of it which is why I chose to send Mr. Reed instead. I’ve got two choices at this point. I can go forward and risk capture, emergence on a parallel timeline, or to simply be unable to get back to this time, or I can go back and work from the root of the problem. Going back to the past puts me in the same position regarding this timeline but I think it offers me a greater chance of solving the problem."

"And that’s why the agent in place rule exists," Archer said.

"In part, yes."

"Why break it now?"

"Because there’s no one else to send," Daniels said quietly. "I don’t know if there are other operatives there. I can’t even be sure there still *are* others left who can see the instability. There’s no one else but me. All I can do is tell you the state of the timeline before I go so that you can tell others if I don’t come back."

Archer could feel Daniels’ fear and felt his own fear for Malcolm rise up to match it, but already it was channeling itself into something more useful. "I’ll call the senior staff."

"No." Daniels shook his head. "No one but you, and you can only use the information in certain ways. If you meet an agent, and you’re sure that they’re someone you can trust, get the message back through them. Don’t tell your staff more than the basic information they need to do their work. Don’t write any of this down, either on paper or in electronic form. Any of those actions could cause what I’m going to tell you to be recorded in the database where the Suliban or their masters could get access to it." Daniels’ eyes were almost pleading. "If things go as I plan, I’ll be back with Reed almost instantaneously and the mission will be completed."

"All right. I agree." It was the last thing Archer wanted to say but it was the only thing he could do. He wanted to make Daniels take him too but knew that that impulse was born of fear and would not bring Malcolm back.

He listened with his whole body, willing himself to retain everything as Daniels began to speak.

*** ***

Morning came, and Archer stared out at the cold stars. Daniels had not returned. The information from the Starfleet database was sketchy, but its meaning was clear. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed had been a scientist attached to the 97th Tunneling Company of the Royal Engineers in May of 1941. He’d been with Section 347 getting field training to allow him to better understand conditions in the field as they affected defusing procedures. He’d been killed in July of that same year while defusing a bomb.

Sergeant William James had survived the war and had retired some years later.

Lieutenant Brian Ash had also survived, though he’d been badly injured in June of 1943 while defusing British antipersonnel mines. He’d been demobilized in 1946, and had married in that same year. He and his wife had had two children, a daughter Mary, and a son William.

Mary had gone to America in the spring of 1968. She never returned to England, and she never married.

Zefram Cochrane had been born in 2030.

The timeline was safe, for now.

All it had cost was the life of one man, and the heart of another.

THE END (of this timeline)

*** ***

Daniels stepped through the gate, and into a cellar. Debris was piled against the walls and as he breathed in he could feel the thick air coat his throat with plaster dust. Reed was crouched beside the bomb, at the point of lifting out the fuse. He’d cut it far too fine.

"Stop." It was all Daniels could do not to scream the warning.

Reed’s head whipped up and he found himself face to face with Daniels. "What?"

"You’ll die if you do that." Calm could begin with the voice, after all, Daniels reasoned. He ignored the ugly thing on the floor and concentrated on Reed.

"And Ash or James will die if I don’t." Reed let the fuse slide gently back into place. He picked up his scanner and scanned the bomb again, first from the side and then from the end. "What did I miss?"

Daniels knelt down and scanned the bomb. "There’s a Suliban force generator under the first gaine."

"Yes, I know that," Reed said. "I’ve fused it together."

"Yes," Daniels said. "You shut down the field, but it’s programmed to self destruct. If somehow someone managed to disarm the bomb it was meant to keep alien technology from falling into the hands of a pre-warp culture. It isn’t big enough to kill, but it’s more than enough to set off the main charge."

Reed’s eyes widened. "I scanned it, I didn’t pick up any explosives--except those of the period."

"Exactly," Daniels said. "The generator is part of the second gaine, the one in the booby trap. When it’s exposed to light, the power cell explodes and sets off the firing sequence from there."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Reed shoved his tools into his jacket. He tried not to think how close he’d come to death just then.

"Sir, we’ve just got the equipment." Corporal Salt’s voice came down from above. "Sergeant James asks if you can come out and talk to Mr. Ash about it?"

"I’ll be right there, corporal," Reed replied.

The footsteps receded.

"How do I disarm it?" And I pray I can do it in less than two minutes, Reed added to himself.

"*You* don’t," Daniels answered. "Pull the fuse out in darkness, pull the second gaine out and it’s only 500kg of TNT with no way to set it off. Get out of here and I’ll do it while you stall them."

"The fuse and the locking ring have to go back," Reed said. "Any of the Section will notice if those are missing."

"Fine. Now go, and take the light." Daniels shooed Reed away and knelt next to the bomb.

Reed paused on the bottom stair. "Why did you come here? Even if I’d failed, both of them would still be alive."

"Brian Ash isn’t the only person whose death would change time."

That smug little smile Daniels wore at times like these was almost as infuriating as the non-information he gave, Reed thought as he trotted up the stairs.

"Very clever." The voice came out of nowhere.

It was Daniels’ turn to be shocked into momentary silence.

"You didn’t think we’d be watching, did you?"

Daniels tried to track the voice in the dark. "Who are you?"

"My name does not matter. You are Daniels, and you will not be allowed to interfere."

The weight of the Suliban landed on Daniels’ back, pushing him down on top of the bomb. The hard edge of the clockstopper dug into his chest as he struggled to throw his attacker off, then fell to the floor with a loud thud. It was futile. Every time he got a hold on flesh it oozed away. The Suliban wrapped an arm around his throat and began to pull him backward. His ears began to ring as his air was cut off. In desperation he put both hands on the bomb and heaved back. It didn’t gain him much, it barely loosened his attacker’s grip, but it was enough. The fuse was loose under his hand and he pulled it straight up and back with all his failing strength. The metal cylinder slammed into the Suliban’s face and knocked him backward.

Daniels heard it hit the floor as he scrabbled backwards, clawing his weapon out of his pocket before throwing off his jacket. He grabbed the cloth in his weaponless hand. Oh God. Where was the Suliban, and more important, where was the bomb?

A voice sounded near his ear. "You wanted my name, human. It is Talek. Take it with you to your death."

Daniels twisted away, knowing he was beaten. Talek could obviously see in the darkness that blinded him. He realized then what he had to do. He threw his jacket in what he hoped was the general direction of the bomb and fired.

Way, way off on both counts, but the feeble light of the beam glinted off Talek’s eyes. Even better, it didn’t set off the bomb. He hadn’t expected to live. The next shot hit Talek full in the face.

Daniels collapsed to his knees, breathing hard, then pulled himself over to the bomb. It took two tries before he could make his shaking hand pull out the second gaine. He stuffed the wax-filled metal cylinder deep in a trouser pocket, praying it wouldn’t go off before scrabbling around in the dark for the fuse. He reached his jacket first and by the small light he carried in it he found the fuse. By the time he heard the sounds of men coming back, he had fumbled the fuse back into the bomb and screwed the locking ring back in place. The fallen clockstopper he could do nothing about, nor Talek’s blood. He crouched over the alien body and activated his retrieval program as the first man came down the stairs. Man and body were outlined with light, then disappeared.

Ash bounded down the last few stairs, a torch in his hand. Faint noises, completely out of place in an empty room, reached his ears. He blanched as he saw the fallen clockstopper. He flung himself across the bomb and listened for the ticking.

James and Reed stopped in their tracks as they saw what Ash was doing.

"We seem to be lucky." The relief in Ash’s voice was palpable. "Malcolm, what were you doing down here?"

As he spoke, Reed and James lost no time wrestling the clockstopper back in place.

Reed flashed his torch around the room curiously, but what was left was as puzzling as what had obviously gone. "I hope by now I’ve at least learnt what not to touch, Brian." His eyes slid past a large pool of liquid that had not been there before. Alien blood? None of their equipment had a liquid component, and the cellar had been dry since they’d started to work. No bodies, and the bomb looked as it had before. Surreptitiously he pulled out his scanner and took a reading, using the light from the torch to camouflage its pale glow. The interference was gone. With two other observant men in the room that was all he could manage to check for. The weight lifted from his shoulders as he realized that they were safe, at least from this bomb. But what of Daniels?

In spite of his worries, he managed to enjoy the rest of the afternoon as they first drilled a large hole in the bomb and then steamed the explosive out onto the floor. It was a long, smelly process and by the end of it he was thinking nostalgically of Enterprise’s showers.

*** ***

Reed left HQ and walked across the deserted schoolyard. He was on his way to the pub, but he was taking the long way around. If he had waited a bit, he could have had company, but Reed looked forward to the solitary walk. It would be the last time, after all. For the past three days he had tried to understand why he was still here, and had made the necessary preparations to leave the Section, if not the era. His mind kept snapping back to the last time he had seen Daniels. Since the night after the mission had been completed, when no one had arrived to take him back to his own time, Daniels’ last cryptic remark had haunted him. He had implied that Reed’s survival was crucial to the timeline, but as Reed thought more deeply about it, he realized that Daniels had not specified when that contribution had occurred. Perhaps he was destined to live out his life here in the twentieth century. Somehow the reality was not nearly as appealing as the fantasy. If he were to stay here, it would not be under his present circumstances. The cover he was working under was never meant to last a lifetime. Though Reed had the scientific qualifications for his role, he had no connection at all with the group of scientists he was supposedly working with. All it would take would be one well placed telephone call to Cambridge and he would be exposed. No. If he were to make a home in this place, it would be on his terms. Tomorrow he would join the military properly and hopefully be sent overseas. He would leave the increasingly shaky story he’d been telling behind.

The barman was pulling the blackout curtains shut when he arrived, but Reed got a glimpse of sherry colored light through the large windows. As he opened the door he was wrapped in heat and good cheer. He saw a few familiar faces already. Mulley and Wilkins were seated under one of the large windows with a third man Reed didn’t know. None of the officers had arrived. Sergeant James was at the bar, an island in a sea of companionship. Reed stepped up to the bar and ordered.

"May I?" Reed put his glass down next to the sergeant’s.

"Please." James had been sitting backwards on his stool but he turned to face the bar now. "I hear you’re leaving us, sir."

"Yes." Reed sat down. He had never expected to find a place within the unit at all. He had never expected to become so attached to these men. If he had to spend the rest of his life in a strange time, he could at least have one last night in their company. "I wanted to thank you, sergeant. You made my job a lot easier than it could have been."

James raised his eyebrows, but a small, pleased smile touched his lips. "I was just doing my job, sir. No need to thank me for that."

"Perhaps not, but thank you all the same," Reed said. "I’ve enjoyed working with you."

"Thank you, sir." James smiled. "You’d make a fine bomb disposal officer.

Reed smiled back. "Believe it or not, I’m almost sorry to be going back. I think I’ve developed a taste for the real thing. Buy you a drink?" he added as James finished his glass. He meant it. More than anything he wished he could at least stay with 97 Company, but sooner or later, someone would start asking questions.

"No need, sir."

"Come on, I’m leaving in the morning," Reed said. "It’s my last chance."

"Well then, since you put it that way, thank you, sir." James signaled the barman.

Reed groped for something to say. In many ways, Sergeant James was the man who made the most sense to him. Perhaps that was part of what made him so desirable. He lived by the same rules Reed had been raised with. Best of all, he neither asked personal questions nor invited them. Reed had often wondered what lay behind the disciplined exterior. In a way, it was poetic justice. Reed realized he must give a similar impression. The only topics that were coming to mind were far too personal, or against the current laws. Was it because he would be gone tomorrow, or was it the fact that the two of them had never spent any off duty time together? What had seemed a pleasant activity when he had arrived now seemed fraught with danger. He thought for a moment. Work had always been a relatively safe topic for him. "Bomb disposal’s a new one for the Engineers, isn’t it? What did you do before the war?"

"Pretty much the same, sir, really. I joined in ’14 digging trenches. When the war ended I thought the Army seemed a decent job, so I kept at it. When the Blitz started, they put me to this."

"We can use all the experienced men we can get. Wish there were more of us," Reed said.

"When did you join up, sir?"

Reed thanked God for the innocuous question, and for the fact that he’d all but memorized Ash and James’s service records. He had constructed his own in such a way that there were no possible connections to either man. It made this conversation a lot easier than it could have been. "In ’36, when I finished University. I’ve always been fascinated by explosives, actually and the Service seemed the right place for me. My father was furious." It was amazing how close to the truth the whole story really was, Reed thought. If only James would allow him to keep it to generalities.

"You do seem to have a touch with them, sir. I don’t mind saying you gave me a fright last week with that bomb in the cellar. What were you thinking?"

"Glad you brought that up, actually," Reed lied. "I wanted to apologize for that. Not for what I did, I’d do it again if I had to, but for putting you in that position. I suspected there was more to that bomb than meets the eye." He looked around the bar. "This is hardly the place to discuss it, though."

James smiled. "No, it’s not. And I did wonder, if you don’t mind my saying so. It didn’t seem like you. Since you came to the Section you were one of the few I didn’t have to keep my eye on. Career men stand out from the rest."

"That’s quite a compliment, sergeant. Thank you." Reed was touched. He felt the warmth of that smile down to his toes.

James tapped on the rim of Reed’s empty glass. "Can I return the favor, sir?"

Reed nodded. "Thank you, sergeant." A few drinks. It wasn’t a difficult task to keep his feelings to himself. He’d done it for most of the mission, after all. Now he’d probably be doing it for the rest of his life. The thought that he’d never see Jon again brought tears to his eyes and he quickly looked away. As James dealt with the barman, he mastered himself.

Ash arrived then, Ivor Rodgers in tow. They waved, then found a table. To Reed’s relief, they didn’t seen inclined to come over He turned back to the bar. Another mistake to be mended. He’d see Ash tonight at their billet, and he’d try to clear the air. He’d said his farewells to the rest of the mess earlier that evening.

Of all the people here, Ash was going to be the hardest to leave behind. Reed had never intended to sleep with the man but it had happened nevertheless. They hadn’t spoken of it since. It hadn’t affected their working relationship, neither man would allow that, but something had changed between them. If he had been able to return home, would it also change the relationship he had left behind? Reed wasn’t sure any longer. He realized he was staring at the bartop and lit a cigarette to cover his confusion. After tonight, it would all be over. Reed was torn between grief and relief at the prospect. He turned back and found the sergeant staring at him.

"He’s got you into bad habits," Sergeant James said softly.

Reed started slightly at the odd choice of words, then gave a slight smile. Fine. He was leaving tomorrow, and could indulge his curiosity. "Happens to the best of us."

James nodded. "It does indeed, sir."

Reed gazed into the mirror behind the bar. Ash’s profile could be clearly seen. "I’m giving it up when I leave here," he said, holding up his cigarette. He would. Even if he couldn’t go home, he could do that much.

"Better to have never started." Their drinks arrived and James shoved some silver across the bar.

"True," Reed said. He meant it with all his heart, though his tone was light. "I haven’t been at this particular bad habit for very long, though. I expect I’ll be able to let it go."

"Most start as lads," James said. "By the time they’re grown they can’t stop."

"And as an adult, I should know better?" Reed chuckled.

"Not for me to say, sir."

Reed caught James’s eye in the mirror. "But you didn’t."

"I didn’t start smoking, if that’s what you mean, sir. Too expensive. I’d rather spend my money on whisky." James took a drink.

"Surely by now you can afford any pleasure you choose," Reed said. He knew he was skating close to the edge and with a couple of drinks in him he didn’t care. So they shared more than a military background and a certain reserve.

James sighed. "I suppose so. But I hope I’ve sense enough to know the good from the bad by now."

"Sergeant James, you’re one of the most sensible men I’ve ever met."

"I don’t feel it at the moment, sir." James was gazing at Ash in the mirror again. Reed was certain he was the only one in the room who knew and equally certain James knew he was watching him watch Ash.

"I don’t either," Reed admitted. "And I think you choose your vices wisely."

"I don’t." James finished his whisky.

"He might surprise you, you know."

"Stop it." James faced Reed as he spoke and Reed saw that he had crossed the line.

"I apologize. I had no right to say that." Reed’s eyes locked with James’s and saw the truth in them.

"And I’ve said more than enough, I think. I’d best be off." James stood quickly. Reed swiveled on his stool to look up at the sergeant. "May I come with you?" Reed knew he was crossing yet another line, but the game had gone too far now.

James shot another of those looks at him. "If you like."

They left the bar together. Reed could feel Ash’s eyes on them. So the bond he had sensed between Ash and his sergeant was real, but unrealized. James would make sure it stayed that way. The shame in James was a quiet, hidden thing and he knew he was one of the few who had ever glimpsed it. He recognized it for what it was. He’d been raised with a similar set of values. It had taken a very patient, very understanding man to show him that the code was there to guide him, not to rule him. For a moment he was flooded with shame at what he’d done, and what he might yet do, but he didn’t turn back. His relationship with Jon was forever lost to him, existing in a future he would never return to. Perhaps he was risking his working relationship with James as well, but he couldn’t turn away. Perhaps he was a fool to believe it was possible to do his duty without sacrificing his desires, but in his time, it had worked. To James, having such feelings for one’s commanding officer was completely unacceptable. Perhaps he was right. Reed understood bone deep why James had to get out of the pub and out of Ash’s presence.

For the first few blocks, Reed wasn’t sure if James was trying to lose him or if he was simply trying to get as far from Ash as possible. Whatever the reason, Reed managed to keep up despite James’s longer legs.

"You don’t have to do this, sir." James wouldn’t even look at Reed.

Reed had expected a quiet dressing down, perhaps a drink in another pub where they weren’t under the eyes of the Section, but was James offering what he thought he was? If so, so be it. "I know," Reed replied. "I’m leaving tomorrow." "Aye."

They walked in silence for the next few minutes. Reed was beginning to think they might spend the night like this. How had it come to this? He kept the silence James seemed to want and wondered how a simple drink had gotten so badly out of hand. What had possessed him to say what he had? His world lay in ruins around him, which had to be reason enough.

No. It was the simple desperation in James’s eyes. He knew that feeling, and he understood it too well. It wasn’t the love that was eating away at James; it was the shame and self-hatred. He truly had no idea that Ash might return his feelings, and he couldn’t will them away. Yes, Reed thought, he knew that kind of suffering quite well. He’d been living with it in various forms since he’d arrived. At least in his time such desires weren’t considered crimes against nature. Reed might know that Ash was destined to marry, but even if James couldn’t have Ash, maybe he could at least have some form of peace? Reed wondered if he had the ability to help him find that. He hadn’t been able to give it to himself, after all. It had taken Jon Archer to do that. Even through the alcohol the knowledge that he’d never see Jon again brought tears to his eyes.

James turned into a small court and led the way up a flight of narrow steps. He fumbled in his pocket for a key and let them in the door at the top of them. The room was small but clean. Reed glimpsed a bed with a chest at the foot of it and a washstand.

As soon as Reed had closed the door James pushed him back against it. His hands were everywhere and his mouth closed over Reed’s. His tongue surged against Reed’s teeth and Reed opened his mouth eagerly, meeting it with his own. His body was on fire, sandwiched between the wood and James. Even through the heavy uniforms he could feel the heat coming off the other man’s body. Surprise and confusion warred with desire, and desire won.

Abruptly, James released Reed and turned away.

For a moment, Reed thought his legs would give out but he managed to stay on his feet. His blood pounded in his temples. As he mastered himself, James stood motionless, as if Reed weren’t there.

"What’s wrong?"

"This is. I’m sorry. Please, go away." James kept his back to Reed.

"No." Oh God, had he just made it that much worse? All his noble thoughts seemed hopelessly naive, even idiotic.

"I can’t. I shouldn’t have brought you here."

"You don’t have to," said Reed. "Do you think that’s all I wanted from you?"

"What else does one man want from another?" James’s hands were fisted at his sides.

"Is that all you wanted from me?" Reed wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t do as he was told. He felt sick. He felt used in a way he never had before.

"I don’t know." The words were low, and suddenly Reed was sure James was crying. He felt like doing the same.

"I won’t leave you like this, William."

"Billy. No one but my father called me William."

"Billy, then." Reed was amazed at how calm he sounded. He felt as if his body would fly apart. "I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I don’t expect you to do anything you don’t want to but I don’t want us to part like this."

"Why are you being so bloody nice to me?" James grabbed a towel from the washstand and angrily scrubbed at his face.

"Why are you being such a fucking bastard to me?" Reed retorted. "I want you, I won’t deny that. But I’d be as happy to sit and talk if that’s what you want." He cast around for something to say, anything.

"I don’t want you to see me like this." James buried his face in the towel.

"I know. I don’t blame you," Reed said. Cautiously he leaned against James’s broad back and put his hands on the other man’s shoulders. To his great joy, he felt James relax slightly. "I should never have pushed you like that. I apologize."

"Don’t." James turned and took Reed in his arms. "I gave as good as I got. I know better, or I thought I did."

"It isn’t true, you know." Reed burrowed deeper into the broad chest in front of him. "A lot of scared, sick little bastards have called us names for so long that we’ve come to believe them."

"Then why is it in the Bible?" James’s arms tightened around Reed. For a moment the pressure was so tight he could barely breathe but it fell away an instant before he began to struggle.

"There are a lot of odd things in the Bible, Billy." Reed began to stroke up and down James’s back, careful to keep his hands above the waist. "Should we still avoid shellfish and meat from animals without cloven hooves?"

Suddenly the man in his arms was laughing. For a moment, Reed joined him but it stopped abruptly. James began to shake, tears running down his cheeks. Reed was at a loss. All he could think to do was hold James as he cried. Once again, the sergeant fought free of him.

"’m all right. Sorry."

James went to the washbasin and splashed cold water on his face. Reed handed him the towel. He took it without turning around. "Malcolm? I really do think it might be better if you left."

"Would you leave me if I were like this?" Reed asked.

"I’m not fit to be seen."

"I know you wouldn’t," Reed ignored the flat statement. "I seem to remember a rating the other day who’d just seen his officer blown to bits. You didn’t stop to think whether or not he was fit to be seen." He dropped his eyes. "Please don’t make me leave."

The soft words hung in the air for a moment.

"There’s a bottle of whisky in the bottom drawer," James said. "I think I’d be better for a bit of it."

"I think I would too." Reed found it. "Do you have a glass?"

"No." James took the bottle and took a long swallow. He passed it to Reed. He sat down on the bed. "Malcolm, do you know why I brought you here tonight?"

"I thought I did when we got here but now I’m not so sure."

"I thought I did too." James held out his hand for the bottle. "When I realized you’d had Mr. Ash something snapped. You’re leaving the Company, and I’ll likely never see you again. I thought it would be all right, just this once, to take you somewhere where I could have you like the little slut you are.

Reed felt the blood pounding in his ears as the words hit him like hammer blows.

"I couldn’t believe that you’d not only do such a thing to Mr. Ash, but you’d actually be shameless enough to tell me to give him a try. What would Mr. Ash think?"

"Stop it." Reed finally managed to form words and force them out.

"Why should I?" James replied. "Did you spare a thought for how either of us might have felt?" He took another drink and pushed the bottle at Reed. "I have to face that man tomorrow and act as if I don’t know a thing. He’ll never know what a sick bastard I am but somehow it was easier when I thought he wasn’t that sort of man. Of course, after tonight I’ll never be sure that he doesn’t suspect. Nearly thirty years I’ve had no cause to think that anyone ever would."

Reed pushed the bottle away. He felt like throwing up. He wanted to run, straight back to his billet and from there to his own time. Instead he sat, head bowed, and waited for the next blow to fall.

James took another long drink. The silence stretched between them. He took another. The bottle was half empty now.

"Are you going back to your billet or staying here?" he said at last.

Reed raised his head. "I suppose it’s up to you."

James sighed. "You haven’t listened to me yet when I’ve asked you to leave. I’ve said far more than I should have. I wish I was sorry for it but I’m not. I think it’s for the best that you’re leaving tomorrow. If you want to stay here you’re welcome to, I just need to know if I should put this bottle away and walk back to my billet or stay here and finish it."

"How dare you?" The words rose from deep inside Reed. They were out of his mouth before he had time to think. Once he had started he couldn’t stop. "Who in the hell do you think you are to pass judgment on me? Bad enough you should do it to yourself but how dare you try to turn what passed between Brian and I into some filthy little affair! You have no idea what happened, and no right to sit there and treat me as if I were some miserable piece of filth!

The next thing Sergeant James knew, he was on the floor and Reed was on top of him. The bottle rolled across the floor, spreading whisky behind it. A hard forearm was across his throat, threatening to cut off his air and a pair of hard blue eyes were boring into his. He heaved sideways, trying to throw the smaller man off but Reed’s hold remained rock solid. Reed’s arm pressed painfully into his larynx.

"I’ll give you "slut," you bastard." Reed’s voice was low and dangerous. "Nothing I could do with you or with Brian could ever be as disgusting as the thoughts that run through your mind. The saddest part of it all is the fact that you believe the same things about yourself."

James’s eyes closed briefly, then opened, swimming with tears again. Reed saw the misery in their depths and felt James’s hard cock press into his thigh. Lust flared high between them again and for a moment he was balanced on a knife’s edge. It was all Reed could do to let go and roll onto the floor. All he wanted was to fall into that warm mouth. Another moment and he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

"You’re right." James hadn’t moved from where he lay. "I’m no better than you are."

"There’s nothing wrong with loving your own kind." Reed stared up at the ceiling.

"Why does everyone believe it is then?"

"I’ve never understood that," Reed admitted. "But I don’t believe a loving God would make a good and honorable man like you live in shame like this. Only His followers would do that."

"Oh, very neat," James said. "I believe that’s called sophistry, sir. Only I’m not so good at it, not having been to University."

"Tell me, Billy, has what you’ve done with men ever caused any harm to anyone?"

"I take care to see that it doesn’t."

"To me, that’s the essence of it," Reed answered. "I see no difference between giving comfort to that rating when he was in no fit state to take care of himself and giving pleasure to another person if it’s done with a good heart. I never meant to make love with Brian. I know he didn’t mean for it to happen either. But after Wilcox died, it did. We turned to each other because we needed to feel something besides guilt and pain. I don’t think it was the wisest thing I’ve ever done, but I only regret it because Brian does. Reed leaned in and kissed James gently on the lips, than rose to his feet. "I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or Brian. I can’t take back what I’ve done or what I’ve said. All I can do is leave before I do any more harm. I wish it could have been different between us."

The walk back to the billet was the coldest he’d ever taken.

*** ***

Daniels was waiting in the room Reed shared with Ash. "I had hoped you weren’t dead," Reed said calmly. If the temporal agent’s sudden appearance had startled him, he’d be damned if he’d give the man the satisfaction of knowing it. The anger that flooded him he likewise did his best to hide.

"Sorry, no time to let you know what happened. And there were other issues that needed to be dealt with."

Other issues. How convenient. He’d thought Daniels dead and himself stranded but the truth was, the masters of time hadn’t found enough of that commodity to let him know what was happening. Somehow, Reed had expected something along the lines of the standard evasions and vague statements. The facade of mystery Daniels cultivated was becoming all too predictable with each conversation. Well he could be just as blase. "I expected that if I were really all that crucial to my timeline someone would come to collect me eventually. I must say, your timing leaves a bit to be desired." Reed would have given anything to take back the events of the evening. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, then offered them to Daniels.

"Those really will kill you, you know," Daniels remarked as he turned them down.

"After what I’ve been through, these are the least of my worries," Reed answered. "In any case, I don’t plan on keeping up the habit." He put the packet away. "So what did happen down there?"

Daniels quickly filled Reed in on his fight with the Suliban and how he had finally defused the bomb. "And when I got back to Enterprise, there was an agent waiting to take me back to Base, someone I could be sure of. That’s when I was sure we’d succeeded."

"So we really did do it," Reed said. He couldn’t believe how calm he sounded. "When that bomb was disposed of safely and no one came I began to wonder if something else had gone wrong."

"Considering your interest in the era, I thought you might appreciate an extra few days here so I delayed your pickup." Daniels’ smile was contented this time.

Reed’s fragile good mood evaporated. "Come now, you don’t really expect me to believe that." Reed didn’t feel like swallowing any story Daniels cared to spin.

"I can show you the records of the last Council if you’d like."

Reed wondered silently just what records he’d be shown if he chose to take Daniels up on his offer. He contented himself with poking yet more holes in the latest story. He still did need the man’s help to get home. "The omission is far more basic than that. You have technology that allows you to travel to any time and place you like. What does it matter how long your future Councils take? Why did I really spend the last three days here?"

"I told you," said Daniels. "You deserved the vacation."

Reed turned to the cupboard and began stuffing his belongings in his kitbag. "Try again, Mr. Daniels. The past is not a playground."

"Perhaps not. It can be a training ground, however."

"Why do I doubt that?" Reed said. "Perhaps because I’ve seen the result of what would seem to be a fairly inconsequential change?" He turned and faced Daniels. "If you’re not going to tell me the truth, at least stop telling me lies. You left me here after my mission was over for a reason. I want to know what it was."

"There was still something left for you to do."

Reed closed his eyes briefly and groped for calm. He should have expected this. He asked a simple question and received another oracular pronouncement. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I’ll explain when we get back. " Daniels flipped open a small device Reed didn’t recognize. "Keep packing, we need to be out of here before Ash gets back."

"If you don’t mind, I haven’t said my goodbyes," Reed said angrily. He was tired of being pushed around.

"It’s important that you don’t," Daniels answered. He began to pull Reed’s uniforms out of the wardrobe. "You made a small change in Ash’s life tonight, and a larger one in Sergeant James’s. If you want those changes to remain, we have to leave now."

Reed considered mayhem, but dropped the idea. "If I can undo even a small part of what happened tonight, I’d gladly do so."

"Believe me, you don’t want to undo any of it." Daniels bundled one of Reed’s properly pressed uniforms haphazardly into the bag.

"Oh all right!" Reed grabbed the rest of them and completed his packing on his own. "I can see I’m not going to get a sensible answer out of you here."

*** ***

Reed dropped the kitbag to the floor. "Where are we?"

"Call it a way station," Daniels answered. "You’re in my present, your future.

"It looks like a debriefing session to me," Reed said wearily. "Are you going to give me some answers, or play word games? Because if it’s the latter, I’d rather return to Enterprise."

"I promised you some answers first," Daniels said. "I see you bought Sergeant James a drink last night."

It was the last thing Reed wanted to talk about. He wondered just how much Daniels knew. "And if I did?"

Daniels waited a moment, but Reed said nothing. "You did have an effect on him."

"Yes, I’m sure I did."

"You brought his demons out into the light."

Reed smiled bitterly. "He didn’t thank me for it. I don’t blame him."

"No," Daniels replied. "But his life will be better for it."

"I can’t see how," said Reed.

"Do you know how James persuades Ash to face the rest of his life after the accident?"

"You know I don’t," said Reed. "So why don’t you tell me?"

"Ash was badly injured," Daniels continued. "He was on the verge of becoming a recluse. He’d already tried to send his fiancee away once, and without James’s intervention he would have followed the timeline that resulted in his suicide."

Daniels touched a key on the tabletop and a photograph appeared. As it spun in midair, Reed recognized Brian Ash. One side of his face was as Reed had known it. The other was a mass of scar tissue.

Reed looked at the photograph dispassionately. "Yes, I knew all that before I left." And I recognize an emotional appeal when I hear one, he added silently. "How did my evening with Sergeant James change that?"

Daniels touched the key again and the photo disappeared. "The basics didn’t change, as I said before. Ash still lives and marries, and Mary Ash is still born. It isn’t a particularly happy life, but the future we know remains in place. James serves another decade or so in the Army and retires. Both men live to ripe old ages."

Reed sat back in his chair, hoping that Daniels would get to the point soon.

"Bear with me a minute." Daniels seemed to sense that he was losing his audience. "You gave James a lot to think about that night. He chose the Army early. Like many people in the twentieth century who were born into a social class that didn’t offer much in the way of opportunity. The army was James’s way out of relative poverty. He was also attracted to men rather than women. In his time, the only acceptable pattern was heterosexuality. Homosexuality was not only disapproved of, it was highly illegal."

Reed was still waiting. "Yes, I realize that."

"James avoided making any connections whatsoever with other people like him, because he knew that if he was discovered he’d be discharged and probably jailed. You are probably one of the only people he’d met up to that time who had a healthy view of homosexuality. You also made him realize that there were other people around him who had similar desires and still led normal, happy lives. That included Brian Ash. In the altered timeline, Ash and James kept up their connection after the war and their lives were considerably better."

"And how would saying goodbye to Brian have altered that?" Reed asked.

"Let’s just say it would be better if James did any explaining that proved necessary."

Reed resisted the impulse to hit him. "He won’t explain a thing."

"Exactly." Daniels smiled. "So Ash will just assume you two spent the night together. It’s close enough to the truth, after all."

"Do you know every detail of everything I did during the mission?" Reed asked. It was a possibility he had not considered and the implications made him extremely uncomfortable.

"Yes," Daniels said. "I’m sorry, but it’s a necessary precaution. Without that record, we might well have lost you the first time."

"Lost me?" Reed prompted.

"Yes. You died on your first attempt," Daniels answered. "You won’t remember anything about that, of course."

Reed just stared.

*** ***

Archer opened his door to find Reed and Daniels standing there. For a moment he just stood there. "You did it," he finally managed to say, stepping aside to let them in.

Malcolm’s eyes asked him to wait as he passed his lover. Daniels had seen more than enough of his private life for now. He crossed the cabin and stood before the port, drinking it in. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed the constant stars.

"Yes," Daniels answered. "The future is in your debt."

"It can’t be otherwise," Reed said quietly. "I understood Ash’s job so quickly because mine was built upon the descendants of the same weapons, just as your time and mine were built on the same lives. Strange to hold the past and the future in your hand."

"It is, isn’t it?" said Daniels. He looked around the cabin, knowing exactly what Reed meant. His eyes stopped at Archer. "I can’t do the same shipwide session I did before. Now that the timeline is back in place, that event never took place since this ship was never in that alternate future.

"What about my memory?" Archer said. "I remember it."

"None of your crew does, Captain, except you and Mr. Reed. If I were to tell the whole ship, they would remember it too. Since this ship followed the altered timeline instead of ceasing to exist, now that the original has been restored the two segments occupy the same space. Anyone who has lived through both timelines can usually recall both, if the alternate events are unusual enough, and they have some reason to remember. There are very few cases of such an event, however. I think you can understand the need for discretion."

"Secrecy, you mean?" Archer was over the shock of seeing them at his door, and was on the offensive.

"What would be the point of endangering the stability of the timeline after you’ve worked so hard to save it?"

"Why do I remember, then?" Archer asked. "And if it was such a danger, why did you remind me of it? Did you know I already knew?"

"Everything’s not necessarily neat and tidy after an event that caused such disruption," Daniels answered. "I made a questionable choice when I involved your ship in this. At the time I thought that the agent in place rule was more important than the chance of temporal contamination. You know of the existence of future travelers, and you know about the cold war. I think I made the right choice, in view of what happened, but my superiors will have to decide.

I owed you an explanation," Daniels said to Archer. "You and Mr. Reed were directly involved for long enough to make it likely on your part, and certain on his that you would remember the other sequence of events. The more people who do, the more unstable the timeline becomes, and the more likely something anomalous makes it into the historical record. Do you remember the effect temporal radiation had on you?"

"Yes." Archer all but blinked at the quick change of subject. "What does that have to do with this?"

"By changing the sequence of events, you were able to change that short segment of timeline. Memory doesn’t have that great an effect, especially if there are only a few people who remember the alternate. If enough do though, the instability will magnify other events, and this era is a very active front. So I must ask you for one final service to the future. Keep this between yourselves."

"I find that difficult to understand, Mr. Daniels," Archer said. He moved to his terminal and scrolled back through his last few log entries. There was no mention of the loss of contact, no mention of Daniels. The last two days had been rather boring, from the look of it. Archer looked up at Daniels. "This isn’t what I remember." He called up the duty roster for the Bridge. Reed’s name appeared on it.

"You see?" Daniels said.

"No," Archer answered. "But I don’t intend to speak to anyone unless they bring the subject up."

"Fair enough," Daniels said. "I’ll let Mr. Reed fill you in on the rest. You’ve earned that much. I need to leave this timeline. The longer I stay the greater the window the other side has to find this particular focal point."

Archer wondered whether it was the truth, convenience, or maybe a bit of both but he did not protest when Daniels bid them goodbye and disappeared into time.

A moment later he had engulfed Reed in a fierce hug.

For a moment Reed just soaked it in. He could barely remember the last time he’d felt safe, and loved. And he knew what he had to do. He pulled back, far enough to look his lover in the eyes. "Jon? I have something I have to tell you."

"I don’t care who you slept with, Malcolm." Archer pulled his lover close again. "You can tell me all about it later if it’ll make you feel better, but right now, all I want is you."

For Reed, that was the moment he truly came home.

END