An added scene to the episode in which the crew goes back to Earth – real Earth – after the mission in the Expanse. Indeed just before they go down to the planet.

Thank you to Gabi2305 and Roaring Mice, my fantabulous beta readers.

Leaning on the sink of his small bathroom, Jonathan Archer raised his gaze and smirked at the stranger in the mirror. "How the hell did you get past security?" he muttered with bitter humour. Then, sighing, he closed his eyes. He had spent months in a region of space where the laws of physics didn't seem to apply; compromised his principles to save his species; nearly been vaporized; woken up in a distorted nightmare of a world; travelled through time and history: no wonder he could hardly recognize himself.

But now it was over. They were back. Earth was safe – it was safe. He had to repeat it to himself, and then for good measure he went to his porthole and let his eyes rest on the blue-green planet, revelling in the feeling of relief that washed over him every time he looked at it.

Archer glanced at the time: nearly oh-four-hundred-hours. He had woken up well before his set time, after only a few of hours of fretful sleep. Faces kept creeping into his dreams, the same faces that occupied many of his wakeful thoughts. He sighed again, wondering how long it would be before he unwound enough to again enjoy a full night of rest.

Perhaps a stroll and a glass of warm milk would help him relax.

He put on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt and was already at the door when Porthos raised his muzzle. Archer took a couple of steps back and crouched down to scratch his faithful friend's head. He wondered if even the beagle had noticed the change in him. "Go back to sleep, boy." The dog gave him a long-suffering look and complied. Guess he has noticed, Archer thought grimly.

The mess hall was empty and dimly lit, and very silent.

"Captain."

Archer was startled by the disembodied voice, even though it had been far from loud. Turning around he squinted, trying to see its owner. That single word of greeting had given the man away, the accent being unmistakable, but in the semi-darkness it took him a moment to spot him. Reed was leaning against the bulkhead near a porthole much as he himself had, just a few moments ago in his quarters.

"Lieutenant," he replied with forced cheerfulness, for his heart was thumping loudly somewhere at the base of his throat. Damn his jumpiness. His nerves seemed incapable of accepting the fact that their mission was over.

Archer could make out Reed's profile and lean frame, and although it was too dark to see him clearly he could tell that he was out of uniform. He could not remember when he had last seen the man off duty – in the last weeks of their mission in the Expanse the senior staff had pulled shifts virtually on end.

Reed nodded without replying and turned back to the view out of the porthole, so after a moment Archer made his way to the drink dispenser. He got himself his glass of milk and hesitated, not sure the reserved Armoury Officer would want company - especially the company of his Captain. He liked to think that they had come a long way since that awkward breakfast in his private mess, more than a year before, but he knew Reed still found it uncomfortable to share idle talk with his C.O. Something about the man tonight intrigued him, though; so he quietly joined him.

Malcolm spared him a glance, a tiny smirk pulling at his mouth, before returning once more to look outside. He seemed more relaxed than usual in his presence. Not that he would ever show the comfortable informality of a Trip Tucker, Archer mulled, but he could live with that. He followed Reed's gaze, and once again felt warmed by the beautiful sight of the round planet rotating reassuringly before them.

"It's hard to believe we're back," Reed murmured unexpectedly, deep in his chest. "That we accomplished our mission."

"Yeah. It seems like a miracle," Archer replied, and with his peripheral vision saw Malcolm nod silently again.

Archer tore his eyes away from Earth to study his Armoury Officer, wishing not for the first time that he could get this impenetrable man to share more of whatever stirred inside him. He suspected – knew, in fact – that Reed had a depth of feeling which, if allowed to shine through, would present a totally different picture of him. He had often wondered what it took to cause a person to want to protect his inner world so fiercely.

"Can't sleep, Lieutenant?" he ventured to ask. Seeing Reed frown, he immediately regretted the question. Malcolm would consider it an invasion of his privacy. "Not many of us can," he hastened to add, with a self-conscious smile. "Too much excitement."

The other man swallowed. "Too much on my mind, actually," Reed admitted quietly.

Through his surprise at the rare and revealing breach into the man's reticent nature, Archer felt his heart clench. If there was too much on Reed's mind, what about his own? He was so damn tired, having held the weight of the world upon his shoulders for so long. Hell, come to think of it in the past months he too had shut everyone out; he had been no better than the self-contained Brit, shunning even Trip's company. Perhaps it was time he showed more of what was stirring inside him.

"Tomorrow we'll be down there, hailed as heroes," Archer said, his voice veiled, "But I don't exactly feel like one."

He saw Reed cast him a surreptitious glance, and recognized the little signs that almost gave away his well-hidden emotions: the way his eyes darted away and his facial muscles twitched imperceptibly. His words had obviously managed to get the man tense again, but at the same time Archer sensed that the Lieutenant was eager for him to continue.

He collected his thoughts and added quietly, "Billions of people will be watching us, but among them there will be those who will only see the voids among us. And all I can think of, tonight, is them - the many I wasn't able to bring back." Pain had gradually and relentlessly seeped into his voice.

Whatever response Archer had expected, it wasn't the one he got.

His gaze still firmly fixed on Earth, Reed began reciting quietly, "Crewman Fuller, Crewman O'Malley, Ensign Marselle, Crewman Kamada, Corporal Hawkins..."

The list was long – too damn long. But Malcolm didn't falter once. He knew all the names by heart and said them with rhythmic precision, and Archer wondered if he had repeated them night after night, as a litany, adding names as people died, not to forget them – indeed to remember them. Half way through it, Archer's sight blurred, but he could see each face very clearly, in his mind's eye.

"...Crewman Taylor, Major Hayes, Corporal Woods," Reed finished softly. He lowered his gaze to the floor. "The many I was not able to protect," he added in a husky voice, correcting Archer's words.

"Malcolm," Archer began in mild reproach, but Reed interrupted him.

"I'm no fool, Captain," he said with a mirthless huff. "Not even I expected to come out of the Expanse with a full complement." In a darker tone he added, "But as Armoury and Security Officer of this ship the people we lost weigh also on my conscience."

Eyes now accustomed to the semidarkness, Archer watched his Lieutenant's features suddenly harden as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And that included you, up to that bloody shocking moment on the bridge when your voice came crackling through the comm. system."

Archer felt a jolt of surprise and a stab of hurt at the unexpectedly loose words and definitely bitter tone. He watched speechlessly as Malcolm went on, "Have you any idea how…" A look of confusion suddenly came over Reed's face, and he cut himself off.

Well, didn't I wish for Malcolm to open up and let his feelings 'shine through'? Archer mulled grimly.

"I'm sorry," Reed muttered, unfolding his arms abruptly and standing rigidly off the wall. "I…" He lowered his eyes, smirking. "That was out of line, Captain. I apologise."

Oh, no, Archer silently ranted. "Don't apologise, Lieutenant," he said, unable to keep a bitter edge from marring his own voice. "After all this time, you ought to know me better. I want to know what my crew think, what they feel."

Reed's brow creased, but he wouldn't speak, and Archer felt frustration swell. He raised his eyebrows. "Have I any idea how… what?" Archer said, deliberately echoing Malcolm's words. "How damn staggering it was for the crew to hear a voice from the dead?"

Pursing his lips, Malcolm returned his gaze to Earth, as if the view had a soothing effect on him. After a moment he murmured, "How hard it was for me to come back to the ship without my Captain."

Archer blinked, feeling his irritation drain out quickly. He should have known. Why hadn't he thought of it? But with all that had happened in the last hours, he had hardly had the time to consider what his 'death' would have meant for the man whose job was to protect them. To protect him.

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Damn, I can't imagine," he croaked out at length, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. Honestly. I didn't plan to blow myself up with the weapon, believe me. I really wanted to make it back in time."

Reed turned to face him squarely and took a deep breath. "Captain," he said holding his gaze, "I know you wanted to spare my life." He hesitated a moment, then seemed to find the courage to continue. "Part of me, the part that has learnt to appreciate your unique style of command, was deeply touched. But…" He wavered again, and Archer saw how difficult this was for him. "The other part, my professional self, lived your 'death' as a failure of monumental proportions," Reed finished, looking away.

Archer gave a lopsided smirk. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"With all due respect, Sir, you can't," Reed spit out, pain, frustration and anger hardening his voice. "I was…" He caught himself, before continuing in a more subdued but frighteningly deep voice, "I had lost my Captain in a way I perceived as idiotic and incompetent; I had to go back and tell the rest of the crew that I had left him behind without blinking; to do, moreover, something I should have taken care of."

Malcolm closed his eyes only to open them wider a moment later, and they were briefly crossed by that peculiar glint which had made Archer recognize the man even under Suliban make-up.

"Not to mention that I spent hours torturing myself in the totally pointless effort to figure out what might have gone wrong on that weapon."

The full extent of what Reed had gone through hit Archer like a door slammed in his face. He reached out to touch his Lieutenant's arm, but dropped the hand short, held back by the tension that exuded from the man's rigid posture.

Hell, Malcolm may be mad at him for ordering him off the weapon, but as far as he was concerned he still believed he had done the right thing. "I am sorry, Lieutenant" Archer repeated. "But there was no way I was going to risk anyone else's life. That list you recited before was already long enough. It was the last act of our mission and I didn't want to add any more names to it." He paused. "Especially the name of a friend."

The word must have struck a cord, for Archer saw the stoic grey eyes gradually soften.

"What in the bloody hell went wrong, Sir?" Reed asked wearily. "I think I have the right to know."

Archer took a moment to reply. The truth would hurt Malcolm more. But there was no way he would hide it from him, he did owe him an explanation.

"I had set the charges and was about to leave when Dolim popped up."

Reed's eyes went wide with dismay. "All the Xindi had been eliminated," he exclaimed. "I had checked. My scanner..."

"He beamed aboard after you had left," Archer cut him off.

"Damn." Reed passed a tired hand through his hair. "I should have asked you to let me stay with you, Captain." He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I didn't even try. I've been kicking myself ever since for not questioning your order," he said in defeat.

Archer raised his eyebrows. "Questioning orders, Lieutenant? Not what I'd call behaviour becoming an officer."

Reed shot him a look. "You knew, didn't you, Sir? That I'd obey. Used my discipline against me."

Breaking into a rueful smile, Archer didn't think twice this time and reached out to touch Reed's arm. "I never intended to put you through this. But all's well that ends well: I'm alive. Time to move on," he said gently, giving a friendly squeeze.

Reed's jaw clenched briefly. "I suppose you're right."

Malcolm returned to look at the planet outside, and Archer followed suit.

They were silent for a while.

"It was considerate of you to keep Enterprise in a non-geosynchronous orbit," Reed said softly, watching England appear. "I'm sure there isn't a crewman on the ship who hasn't been stuck with his or her face to a porthole, waiting to catch a glimpse of their homeland."

"It was the least I could do for them. Although for some it must be a painful sight."

"At least it's not a debris field," Reed replied darkly.

They shared the silence, both riveted by the slowly rotating object. Both glad to have saved that much, when so much had been sacrificed.

Reed suddenly darted a glance his way and said, "Your drink must be cold." With a taut smile he added, "May I get you another glass, Captain?"

Looking down at his untouched milk, Archer smiled at the camouflaged olive branch he knew his Lieutenant was offering him. "Thanks, but I don't think I need it any more," he replied with a lighter heart. He put the glass down on the nearest table and stretched, yawning. "I think I'm ready to try and catch a couple more hours of sleep," he said. "What about you, Malcolm?"

"Might be a good idea," Reed agreed. As they walked to the doors he added, "I suppose I owe Daniels one."

Archer turned just in time to see a smirk come off his face. "That makes two of us," he said. "But I really hope we're finished bumping into the man." He shook his head. "I've sure had enough of time travelling."

The doors opened and Reed waited for him, as the higher ranking officer, to go out first.

"Don't expect me to do it again, Captain."

The words had been spoken in a low voice, but Archer heard them very clearly. He stopped and turned, his brow knit in a puzzled frown.

"Leave you behind," Malcolm added dead serious, stock still on the other side of the doors. "Or anyone else, for that matter."

Their eyes locked, and Archer saw that Reed really meant it. Unexpectedly, a lump formed in his throat. He didn't deserve this kind of loyalty. Once perhaps, but not now, after the Expanse. Every single day in the past three years he had felt proud of being in charge of this crew. For the first time he felt unworthy of them.

Archer stalled, unsure of what to answer. He could not make any promises. Reed, however, seemed frozen in place, determined not to let him get away with it.

"I can't guarantee we won't come to that crossroads again, Lieutenant," he finally croaked out. He saw Reed open his mouth to speak but he forestalled him. "But one thing I will promise… I'll try my best not to give you orders that go against your sense of duty, or your conscience," he added, knowing full well that recently he had stretched Reed's professional integrity on more than one occasion.

Malcolm looked at him for a long moment; then finally joined him on the other side of the mess hall doors, which swished closed.

They started walking side by side down the hall.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Sir," Reed said quietly after a few strides.

Archer glanced at him. "You do that, Lieutenant," he replied. He smiled. "Consider that an order."

THE END

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