Jonathan is sad, really sad. You want to know how I can be so sure? He's stretched out on his bed and he's started to throw his water polo ball against the metal plating of the wall in our quarters.

It drives me crazy, I can't sleep and as much as I want to—he won't allow me to cheer him up. He's past that point.

He's so far gone, he has even fed me some cheese when he got back from the bridge tonight, looking a little shaky and definitely more gloomy than usual. I guess he wants me to keep quiet, to stay on my cushion, to leave him alone.

I know him well enough to realize that the moment I get past this wall he has erected around him he will break down. He has decided that right now no comfort is the best comfort.

He keeps snapping at me, for no good reasons at all. I know the mission is complicated and frustrating, he spends most of his time in the command center and his bed often stays untouched these days.

But I also know that the mission isn't the only reason why he is so confused and intrigued. It's Malcolm.

The nights he does spend in our quarters are filled with his mumbling, he has started to talk in his sleep. And the thing I hear the most often is the name of our armory officer.

When I get out off our quarters I can overhear their arguments, I know how often they fight. And the resentment in the Brit's voice doesn't go unnoticed.

Jonathan will never admit it, especially not now, but I guess he feels a lot more for the younger man than just friendship. I'm a dog, I'm trained to observe certain things. And I do observe thing.

His mood changes every time Malcolm is around. I can feel those vibrations. He stares at him, he tries to be near to him, but on the other hand he pushes him away. I know it breaks Jonathan's heart to do that to the lieutenant.

I can't stand the sound of that damn ball hitting the wall anymore. I give it another shot and I jump up onto the bed. I nudge his shoulder with my nose and place my chin on his chest.

"Go away, Porthos!" He doesn't sound very convincing.

I growl a little, just a tiny little sound to show him I feel with him.

"Down, boy!" But his hands are already burrowed in my fur.

He pulls me on top of him, gently grabs my ears, scratches them and looks at me with those green eyes of his. They are filled with an unspeakable sadness.

"I almost killed a man today, Porthos!" I lick his cheek.

"But that's not the worst thing!" He sighs.

"Oh God, I really mean it! Even though I almost killed a man the only thing I'm able to think about is Malcolm!"

I turn my head to one side, listening intently. He's got no one else to talk to.

"God, Porthos, the way he looked at me…" His voice almost breaks.

"Like he didn't know me at all!…Hell, how should he know me when even I don't know myself anymore?!"

"It's not his fault that everything seems to go wrong. And it's not his fault that…"

I move a little closer to his face and rub my nose against his throat.

"We were getting there, Porthos, we could have been something. But now everything has changed…"

He swallows, again and again, trying to suppress the tears.

"This whole mission has changed me so much. I can't let him get any closer, Porthos, he wouldn't understand. I can't cope with me hurting him…and I will hurt him. All of them."

Finally the tears come and he presses me closer to him.

I know I have to get used to the sound of the water polo ball torturing our walls. And I'm afraid I have to get used to this side of my master.

Out on the bridge, out in the ship, the invulnerable captain, in control of the mission, determined…but in the safety of his quarters a man with a broken heart and an indescribable sorrow.