Personal Log: Lt. Malcolm Reed

It felt right at the time. God, what an understatement. Do I even lie to myself in my personal log? What should I say--that it felt like the most natural and perfect thing in the world, having sex with my commanding officer while watching some kind of ionic lightshow on an alien world in a thunderstorm? That it was nothing to regret because neither of us were in our usual milieu and we were both quite possibly suffering a neurochemical imbalance, as T'Pol explained?

That's an accurate description of events. But it's still a lie.

We were making love.

Captain's Personal Log:

Phlox told me privately that he doesn't believe T'Pol's hallucination theory. Inhibitions can be shed in many situations of enforced intimacy. Our closeness might have been enhanced by the novelty and beauty of the storm-sky, but our underlying motivations were real.

It felt real to me at the time. Hell, it was my dream come true--Malcolm in my arms, wanting me, making love to me. And I swear he was doing just that. He kissed me. Then his fingers covered my lips when I would have spoken of it aloud.

Malcolm's eyes looked different after the storm...hollow...bereft.