A/N: Written for National Drown Malcolm Month 2008. Mentions the events of Minefield.
Disclaimer:
I don't own the characters, no profit made.



Mol-Kom

"I have aquaphobia." Malcolm finally forced out.

"You're afraid of water?" Archer asked.

"Of drowning, actually."

Malcolm had almost smiled to himself and now, standing in front of his bathroom mirror, he did the same. That particular conversation with his Captain brought to the surface some unwanted truths.

Fear of drowning. Aquaphobia.

He had chosen a term that would be understandable for a Human. The fact was, however, that it wasn't water he was afraid of drowning in.

Malcolm grimaced slightly in pain. Under the bandages the wound left by the Romulan mine throbbed together with his pulse as the analgesic Phlox had given him wore off.

He took a deep breath and slowly limped to his bunk. He carefully sat down, lit up a meditation candle and regulated his breathing. Then focused on the flame and began the familiar mantra: "I control the pain, the pain does not control me. I am a Vulcan."

His leg slowly stopped hurting. He had to really concentrate for this technique to work. Malcolm didn't have the mental discipline of his full-blooded Vulcan grandfather, although he was steadily – if slowly – making progress. And while he might have only a quarter of Vulcan blood in him, he still inherited most of Vulcan characteristics. Excluding the most obvious, though. He was somehow spared those pointed ears.

However, he wasn't spared the touch-telepathy and unfortunately he got it together with a rather uncomfortable concession to his human side: weaker mental shields.

It was the worst combination possible. Touching a Human meant practically drowning in their thoughts and emotions. Especially emotions. They reminded Malcolm of water coming in waves. With skin to skin contact, they poured into him, choked him as if he inhaled them and Malcolm could almost feel his chest constrict as he was suffocating under the onslaught.

Emotions were overwhelming; bewildering in their intensity. And frightening.

As a child Malcolm braved the waters of a nearby lake and in a display of stubborn, almost grim, determination and after no small amount of trying he finally learnt how to swim. Now he could only hope for the same result. This time, though, he'd have to train his mind, not his body, learn how to strenghten his mental shields if he was to stay among Humans without going insane.

Malcolm took a deep breath and finished his meditation. He felt calmer; the serenity (he smiled faintly, thinking of the word) he sought was still far away, but not completely out of his reach.

He could do that.

Malcolm gently blew out the candle and settled in his bunk to sleep.