Warnings: Descriptions of physical injury, Blood, & Mild language
Rating: T+
Spoilers: Season 01 & Season 02 episode 01
Timeline: Post - s01e15 ( Shuttlepod One ) & Pre - s02e03 ( Minefield ) ; Early season 2
Pairings: None. No slash.
Summary: Malcolm is severely injured when coming to the defense of a crewmember. It's all apart of the job, willingly sacrificing himself for his fellows, but no one else can comprehend an Enterprise without their Armoury Officer. A concept they all may soon have to face as a reality.
Word Count: 2612
A/N: First Star Trek ENT fanfic. No beta. So all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: Star Trek & all its characters belong to Gene Roddenberry & their respective networks. I own nothing but the plot of this fic, I make no money whatsoever from this. It's merely for entertainment purposes.
"Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you're not really losing it. You're just passing it on to someone else." - Mitch Albom ; The Five People You Meet in Heaven
"Malcolm!... Mal!"
The darkened veil lifted sluggishly at the summons to reveal the worried-creased face belonging to Commander Charles - Trip, as he was repeatedly told to address him by - Tucker III looming over his inert form. Blurry yet unmistakable in the Floridian bur attached to the unshakable nickname the Engineer affectionately employed on every occasion he could without sacrificing too much of the propriety Reed tried to maintain about himself. A vain attempt it seemed since the beginning due to the lack upkeep on formality.
"There ya go, Mal, keep yer eyes open." Came the marginally relieved southern drawl, it's syntax heavily enunciated against the strength of the vowels. Something Reed had come to associate with Trip being either completely legless or heavily fatigued; never had he heard it accompany distress.
Acute bodily recall of his tactical training had Reed forcibly becoming more alert. The fog encroaching at the edges of his vision and darkness tugging at his consciousness faded. Sharpened clarity gained by the adrenaline dump, swift yet thickly, into his system at remembering the events prior to his indisposition. They'd been attacked, or rather Ensign Sato had, but Reed became the target when he put a stop to the other's lewd advances on Hoshi. He thanked whatever graceful deity was out there that he had walked out of the establishment in time to hear the struggle, unable to imagine such evil enforced on the small Communications Officer, for some higher power had to of taken a liking to her - someone so genuinely kind and passionately brilliant - so that he could leave the club just then. Just before -
Worry over the state of the Ensign, especially after it seemed he'd been overcome in the skirmish, spurred his need to rise. Blinking fervently against his eye's own blurriness, and that caused by the steady rainfall, the downed Armoury Officer shifted to raise up. Only to be stopped by a scorching pain ripping up his right side; feeling as if he'd torn his own flesh open at the merest movement.
It elicited a fierce outcry that crawled up his throat in an animalistic way that unexpected agony can singularly educe. Teeth gritted against the onslaught, silencing any further cries as he pressed the back of his head to the pavement in primal hopes of dissipating the pain. If only human bodies processed stimulation overload as machines did; energy spanned over a greater plan dispersed quicker with less structural damage.
"Easy Mal, easy. Don' go movin' around quite yet."
Words held little meaning, redundant now as any plans of moving again had fled his mind, in the pain-induced world Reed found himself entrapped in. Stifling, all consuming as it was; giving way to nothing but keen focus of the torment radiating outward from his left side. Lapping across his torso in a way fire eats away at brittle twigs, except it wasn't quick in its dissipating actions, leaving behind a residual smoldering burning that skewed any outward focus he'd gained.
Blindsided originally at the near insurmountable barrage against his pain threshold, threatening to send him over into the enticingly numb void that lurked hungrily at his periphery, Reed remained unaware to Trip slipping a hand into his and to the fact he was all but crushing it in his grasp. His weakened state ( and the fact engineers had hands with the strength of bears, no doubt, due to all the mechanical work ) allotted to bruises to the Commander's appendage than anything more serious.
"Hey now, Mal, breath easy. It hurts, I know, but Travis'll be back, and he wouldn't hold it against you like I would if we made him run all the way back to the shuttlepod just for you not to show him how much you appreciate his sacrifice. Runnin' over a mile in this weather, damn better be around to say thank you to the kid, got it Mal? Or do ya need it to be an order?"
Nervous chatter annoyed Reed on his best of days, yet hearing Trip's even voice, despite the Hell they must have landed in, buoyed the teetering Security Chief. Oblivion, digging it's claws into his consciousness to sluggishly pull at it, drawing him inward towards a blackness that offered peace, broken by the continued flow of words from his friend - his only friend as it seemed - a source of warmth and comfort that Reed couldn't ignore easily.
Nevertheless a strange incline twinged in the back of his mind, instinctively brought forth every time he'd been injured in the past and this time was no different. Though it remained as the pain diminished to a more tolerable level, a quick self-assessment once he could form a coherent thought again gave reason to why it had. His uniform soaked through in another substance inconsistent with rain water, sticky and oddly warm against his chilling frame; blood, he surmised. And enough to drench his entire left portions of his chest and abdomen. Pressure from the Commander applying his wadded up undershirt seemed to only absorb more of the mess then truly staunching the flow from what little Reed could make out.
Swallowing thickly, a noticeable metallic twinge at the back of his throat, Reed figured spending these next few moments wasn't best spent staring at the inside of his eyelids. That was no way to say goodbye, not to treasured colleges and never friends.
Having pried his eye open once more, mere slits yet it was a success in his book all considering, to take in the hazy form of his friend once again. Concern having melted away to outright worry on the Commander's features, lessening only fractionally at meeting Reed's grey coloured gaze, in the seconds- was it? Minutes? That Reed had been lost in the clutches of physical Hell. A welcome sight nonetheless; he wouldn't be alone.
Another form appeared behind the commander, distinguishable only by the voice that followed Trip's in its agreeance and assurance of Ensign Mayweather returning shortly with the shuttlepod, to be Captain Jonathan Archer's. An embellished sentiment it would seem, one Reed couldn't nor wouldn't hold against his Captain. A stubborn man, him, in always fighting death tooth and nail for himself and his crew when the Reaper came lurking. He didn't blame the Captain, never would, it was his job to trade his own life for any one's of Enterprise's crew. Her captain and second-in-commands especially.
"Heya back with us?" Forced levity seem to lace the Commander's tone through and through, this simultaneously irked yet pleased the supine Lieutenant.
"Think so." A rough raspiness took over his quiet, accented tones, though Reed knew he was heard at seeing Trip's mouth curve upward towards what would be a mockery of his usual good-natured grin but held no less kindness. If it weren't for the distinct furrow of his brow and shadowed anxiety clouding his hazel eyes, Reed would have thought he'd simply been troublesome to wake ( though that may have caused worry since he was a notoriously light sleeper, it paled in comparison to now ) Something non-life threatening and easily remedied.
"Finally! Was wondering if I'd have to make good on mah threats before I got to get ya to open 'em steely blues fer me." Cheekiness seeped past the concern, falling back onto banter whenever their moods needed it was effective when the situation was too urgent and dire for a more invasive talk to smooth things out. Although he hated to burst Trip small bit of hope, their were a few things that circumstance wouldn't allow him to voice later.
"Hoshi's... all right?" Stilted breaths in compromise of air for little pin against the pull of his injured side, made it impossible to speak in full sentences without becoming winded or gasping in response to the waves of fire from his wound. The few words he managed to utter already taxing his depleting body.
"She's fine, a little shaken but madder than hell at that bastard." A dangerously venomous edge came into the Commander's voice at thinking back to the source of all this, "Ya did a right number on him before he returned the favour, Hoshi stunned his ass twice fer that. Settin' eight, mind."
That revelation certainly cleared things up a bit, answering his questions of what happened after his initial stepping in. A sense of pride welled at hearing Hoshi handle his phase pistol so expertly; those target practice sessions paid off after all. And while overkill was something he strived to avoid in most matters, he felt no sympathy for nor would he have done differently to the piece of filth. Had the bastard not won the upper hand by suddenly sprouting a second set of arms, subsequently sliding a jagged knife through his ribs, he'd have beat him beyond recognition. None would have questioned that choice, he was certain.
"We have him tied up and under watch. Don't worry, Malcolm, he'll be dealt with accordingly." Came the reassuring voice belong to the Captain,still hovering behind the Commander. No doubt had their not be a security threat with possibly volatile prisoner and needing to keep a look out for Ensign Mayweather, Captain Archer would have been crouched beside his fallen officer.
"Good, good…"
"Hey, ah-ah, keep yer eyes open."
Not realising that he'd let them slip closed, the younger man forced them open once more. He wasn't certain his expression came across as exasperated as he attempted, desiring to latch onto that fleeting feeling but with another haggard breath the reminder of his current state erased all thoughts to it.
"Don't give meh that look. You know Phlox would have my hide if I let you drift off before he could examine ya. As much as I like ya, I'm more afraid of him than you."
Apparently his attempts hadn't been lost on his ever observant friend.
This brought a wain twitch of Reed's lips. Trip being the ever optimist would hold out hope for a miracle that'd set his friend to rights again, this Reed had become painfully aware of during their time spent in Shuttlepod 1 when they believed Enterprise lost and themselves doomed to suffocate unless a miracle occurred. Oh how they snapped at one another during those ticking hours. Drawing closer then any length of time aboard a Starship had, despite nasty words thrown about by both parties and threatening his superior officer at phaser point. It'd been the one other time that incline had stayed, left to ruminate and take root despite his company's insistence otherwise. Yet the miracle had happened; Enterprise showing up just in time after some creative pyrotechnics on their part. Optimisms, hope and luck won that day.
Despite wanting to respond in kind, the lieutenant knew his breath wouldn't sustain it. Beside an uncomfortable heaviness, not attributed to Trip's impromptu pressure bandage, now weighed at every inhale. A hitch within his chest at his next swallow breath had him instinctively clearing his throat. The motion then had him choking and coughing harshly against the sudden material congesting his respiratory tract. And despite the gingerness in which the multiple of hands had attempted to sit him up so he could cough out whatever blocked his airway, stole all air from his lungs in strangled scream.
Involuntary spasm of his chest muscles, desperate for oxygen, cut off the cry to a ragged hacking cough. Irony of the cruelest kind, however had he the breath Reed would have laughed, aquaphobic as he was and still without a lick of swimmable water around, he was to drown. Suffocating as his own blood filled his lungs. Perhaps it was Fated; Reeds' cursed with aquaphobia were destined to drown. His great Uncle had, and how he was to.
Legacy redeemed his great Uncle's fears, saving many people with his actions, perhaps it'd be kind to the next Reed in line for Reaper's Touch. Honour his family's name not by having been a Naval Officer, but sacrificing his life to give to another. He hoped legacy would remember it that way, for his friends to as well. No guilt, for he wasn't losing his life, no, merely he gifted it to another by stepping in. He'd done so willingly, and never would he regret it.
"It'll pass, Mal, it'll pass.- - Hey, hey! Come on, bud, breath!"
Archer, having drifted over to check on Hoshi and their prisoner, lurched back over to his SIC and Armoury Officer at hearing an unusual panic seep into Trip's words. Seeing he had Reed halfway upright, awkwardly so in needing to keep constant pressure on the wound yet hearing the desperate coughs coming from his injured officer, the captain knelt by Malcolm's uninjured side to help steady him. Looping an arm across his officer's shoulders while the other hand came to grip the lieutenant's wandering hand, allowing for a small outlet to the agony no doubt coursing through his tactical officer for nothing else to do but wait the spell out. Not knowing of the internal damage, Archer was hesitant to thump against Malcolm's back as seemed common response.
A shuddering inhale, closely followed by a hoarse exhale didn't leave any room for relief at the ceasing of distressing coughing as Reed fell completely limp in the arms of his Captain. Blood freely painted red rivulets down the front of his chin, stringy when intermixed with saliva and reflecting bright scarlet against the stark paleness of his face when light from the Captain's handheld torch flicked over his form. The dark ominous surroundings accompanied by foul weather framed the downed man's deathly grey features, making for an despairingly sickening picture.
"Mal, come on, buddy, stay with us!" Trip had obediently keep secured pressure on the wound, but it did nothing to temper his frightened speech nor stop him from lunging forward to check Malcolm's carotid once they'd laid him back down. A thickly choked sound proceeded the words, "I can'- I can't feel a pulse."
Meanwhile, Archers head whipped up at the proclamation before he started forward to check himself. Needing either to prove Trip wrong or prove his findings to himself. That he'd lost a crewman, that Enterprise lost it's best Armoury Officer, that Trip indeed just lost a friend. The Captain's exhaled epithet was lost under the sounds of the approaching shuttlepod's engines.
A/N: Feedback / Criticism is appreciated as this is my first ST:ENT fanfiction I've posted, but don't feel obliged to. Hope you are enjoying it at the very least. & to those of you worried about it, this isn't a death fic.