I see them sitting at a table near one of the panoramic windows in the mess hall. They are holding hands, totally oblivious of the curious stares of their fellow crewmembers.

Malcolm tenderly runs his fingers over the back of Trip's hand while they talk. He says something and a grin illuminates my best friend's face. He hasn't done that in ages and I'm glad that I'm allowed to see it again.

My chief engineer reaches out, cups my armory officer's cheek with his right hand and gently caresses Malcolm's lips with his thumb. He is rewarded by a dazzling smile, the gray eyes of the Brit sparkle.

A halo of love surrounds these two men, their devotion is almost palpable, it's obvious in the way they look at each other, in the way they carefully touch each other, in the way they talk to each other.

This is the first good thing that has happened to Trip since Lizzie's death and I know I should feel happy for him…but yet I can't.

On the contrary. I hate to seem them like that, this close, showing their affection and love to everyone. I despise it. I've changed because of it, I've closed myself to everything and everyone.

Because I'm in love with my best friend's lover.