Narcosis:  Chapter 4

By Piper

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story notes.

~*~

Malcolm was being a very obedient patient.  He was sitting calmly on the bed, enduring another round of tests without a word of complaint.

Dr. Phlox, who hadn't witnessed the explosion on the bridge, was having a hard time believing it had even occurred.  He seemed like a perfectly normal, healthy Malcolm Reed.

"Well lieutenant, it appears that you are…well…" he was reluctant to say it again.

"Fine?" Malcolm finished with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, yes.  Physically, you are fine."  He left unspoken that his mental state was apparently a different story.  "I don't suppose you would like to tell me what that little incident on the bridge was all about?"

"I don't know, honestly.  I remember being upset about something…" he trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. 

Phlox watched him silently, puzzling things out in his head.

~*~

Outside the med-bay doors, two security guards were on duty.  Captain Archer and Commander Tucker were also there, giving Phlox time to evaluate his patient.  Archer was still unconsciously rubbing his jaw, which was developing a rather ugly bruise.

It was a few minutes before the doctor came out to speak with them.  As the door closed behind him he handed the Captain an ice pack, which was accepted gratefully. 

Trip was worried and had little patience left.  He jumped right in before the others could speak.  "Doc, so help me, if you say he's fine…"

"Physically, there is nothing wrong with him."

Trip sighed in exasperation, but Jonathan immediately latched onto the implication.  "Are you saying that this is mental?"

Phlox nodded.  "It is possible that we are witnessing the beginnings of some sort of psychotic breakdown."

Trip stared at him in disbelief.  "You think he's goin' crazy?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it in exactly those words Commander, but yes."

Archer closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He didn't want this to be true.  "What do you suggest we do, doctor?"

"For the time being I would like to keep him here for observation.  If he has any more episodes I'll be able to narrow my diagnosis."

"And if he doesn't?"

Phlox shrugged.  "Only time will tell in a case like this, Captain.  It might not be a bad idea for you all to come and visit him, particularly Commander Tucker.  He might open up to you and give us some insight into this."

They were silent for a few minutes, each contemplating the situation.  Trip soon put in, "Look doc, this is all a little too coincidental for my taste.  What are the chances of him having a sudden breakdown immediately after this thing on the station?"

"I admit; it is suspicious.  There is likely a connection, but it might not be what you want to hear.  It could simply be that the stress of the incident triggered this."

Trip sighed.  "What about the others?  If they're having similar symptoms…"

"Then it would likely be something with the chemicals," Phlox concluded.  "It wouldn't hurt to bring them here for another evaluation, Captain."

Archer nodded.  "Alright.  Trip…"

"I'm on it, Cap'n."  Tucker was already halfway down the hallway.

~*~

Meanwhile, the three ensigns involved had been sent to their quarters with orders to rest.

Eli, at least, was trying to do just that.  It was made difficult by his brother's presence in his room.  Eric was restless and moving around Eli's quarters, not speaking to his brother but also unwilling to go back to his own room next door.  Eli eventually rolled over on the bunk to face his big brother, asking yet again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

He might have expected an annoyed sigh.  Instead he got a harsh, "Stop asking me that!  Don't you ever shut up?!"

Eli blinked and almost cringed at the venom in the words.  His brother rarely lost his temper at all and never did it with him.  Lost tempers were painful; that was a hard-learned lesson from their childhood that would stay with them forever.   "I'm just worried about you," he said quietly, allowing his surprise and hurt to creep into his voice.

Eric turned and gave him an almost hateful glare.  "I don't need you."

Eli was caught off guard.  "To worry about you?" he stammered.

"I'm the one who always has to take care of you, little brother."  Normally, Eric used the term 'little brother' teasingly or affectionately.  This was far from either.

"What's wrong?" Eli managed to ask.

"I'm just so sick of always having to put you first!  My life would be a lot simpler without you."

That stung.  Eli knew instinctively that something was wrong with his brother, but he was hurt and he felt his own anger flare.  After all, Eric was the one who had always told him that he shouldn't take this kind of abuse from anyone.  "Okay man, I don't know what's going on with you, but if you're so sick of me you can just leave.  You do have your own quarters you know."

"What, now you think you don't need me?"

Eli was having trouble following this conversation.  "What exactly are you mad at me about?"

"It doesn't matter; that's not the point!"

Eli threw his hands up in exasperation, saying under his breath, "There's a point?"

Unfortunately, Eric heard him.  His anger seemed to triple, and his eyes took on a cold light.  Eli felt a cold rush of fear at the transformation in his normally caring big brother.  He froze, and didn't even try to coordinate a defense.

The pain wasn't instant; it was numbed by shock.  Eli just found himself staring up at the ceiling.  Eric crouched over him, but he couldn't make himself move.  He just braced himself for the pain he knew was coming as old memories came rushing back to mingle with reality.  He shut his eyes, not willing to watch his brother's face contorted in hate, much like someone else they'd left behind long ago.

As his eyes were closed, he didn't see Eric suddenly hesitate.  His face changed, shocked and appalled with the realization of what he was doing.  When the expected blows didn't come, Eli opened his eyes in time to see horror and fear come into his brother's expression.  Then Eric was backing away.  He heard the door open as Eric took off.

It didn't occur to him to get up.  He was busy trying to convince himself that this was just a nightmare that he would wake from soon.

Shortly he heard footsteps in the hallway.  They stopped for a moment, and then hurried towards him.  Commander Tucker's face appeared above him.  "Eli?"

"He hit me," he stated simply, still trying to grasp it.

"Eric?"

Eli nodded slowly.  "He's never hit me," he said lamely, still a bit shocked.  "I didn't do anything!"

Trip winced in sympathy.  "Well, there's a lot of that going around.  You okay?"

No—but he didn't think the Commander was asking about his emotional state.  "I think so, sir."

He allowed Trip to help him sit up, then winced as Tucker probed at his eye.  "You're gonna have a heck of a shiner, but I think you'll live.  If it's any consolation, I don't think he's quite himself." 

Eli reached up to touch his tender eye.  "They aren't fine, are they sir?"

Tucker sighed.  "No.  Lt. Reed went a little nuts on us too," he said, and then winced at his own word choice.  "Dr. Phlox thought it was some kind of breakdown, but this thing with Eric is one coincidence too many.  We need to find him and Thomas before anything else happens."  He helped Eli to his feet, and the ensign trailed after him to find his errant brother.

~*~

Ensign Chelsea Thomas had blood on her hands.

She didn't really remember doing it.  But the mirror was shattered and her hand was bleeding rather profusely from dozens of shallow cuts, so she must have hit the mirror.  She was holding her bleeding right hand with her left, trying to stop the blood flow and trying to avoid panicking.

She was the type who always thought everything through before making a move.  She'd never been very emotional, and rarely did anything purely motivated by emotion.  But there had been no logic to this; just a blind anger at something she couldn't even identify.  She'd been furious, and then she'd been bleeding.  It didn't make sense.

She slowly rose from her position on the bed, forced to wait for the dizziness to pass.  Then she headed for the intercom, intending to call for help.

But the light reflecting off the broken glass caught her attention.  She slowly turned to face it, mesmerized by the shards.  Sharp.  Jagged.  Beckoning.

Involuntarily she took a step towards them, away from help.

~*~

The situation was already out of control when Trip and Eli arrived.

Eric had enough of a head start that it wasn't easy to track him.  Trip was about to alert security to help them look when he received a call that he was needed in engineering.  Apparently there was some problem involving Ensign West.

Trip and Eli had exchanged a worried glance before taking off for engineering.  What they found was not pretty—'problem' was putting it mildly.

Eric had somehow gotten his hands on phase pistol between Eli's quarters and here.  He had a frightened crewman held against him, gunpoint at her throat, and was telling everyone else to back off.  The two security officers who had arrived before them weren't backing off, but they also weren't pressing the issue, simply holding their pistols on him and not trying to get closer.

Eli froze at the sight, again briefly entertaining the notion that this was just a nightmare.  He snapped back to reality when Tucker gripped his arm and started to ease him forward.  "I'm gonna need you to talk to him, Ensign," the Commander said softly.

"That didn't work real well earlier, sir," Eli admitted in a whisper.

"We have to try.  The state he's in right now, he might kill her."

So Eli tentatively followed Trip forward.  They approached slowly until they were standing beside the security officers.  From there, they could see that the pistol was set to kill.  "Ensign West, tell me what's going on here," Tucker ordered.

Eric blinked at them.  He didn't look so angry now; in fact he looked as if he might cry.  Still, he said, "Don't come any closer, sir.  I'll kill her."

"Mind if I ask why?"

Eric deliberately ignored the question, eyes landing on his younger brother and his fast-bruising eye.  "I'm sorry Eli," he said in a barely audible whisper.

Eli didn't think about a response, he just spoke from his heart.  "It's okay, Eric."  His brother shook his head in denial, and Eli quickly added, "Yes, it is.  This isn't you.  Just let her go, and we can work this out."

Eric continued to look at him sorrowfully, but addressed Commander Tucker.  "Please get him out of here, sir."

"He just wants to help, Ensign.  He cares about you and he wants to see you come out of this in one piece."

Eric shook his head and jabbed the gun harshly against the crewman's neck.  She gasped.  "Get Eli out of here, sir," he insisted.

Eli stared, barely remembering to breathe.  Trip reached over and snagged his wrist, pulling him back.  "Go, Ensign," he ordered quietly.

Eli started to protest, "But…"

"Eli, go," he said firmly, giving him a gentle push.  With little choice in the matter, Eli met his brother's shaky gaze one more time, then went.

He got near the door, out of Eric's immediate line of sight, and turned back to watch. 

Trip was trying his best to be a hostage negotiator.  "Alright Eric, I did something for you, now you do something for me.  Let her go and we can talk."

Tears were spilling down his cheeks now.  He met Tucker's eyes and said a soft, "I'm sorry, sir."

He let her go, but not exactly in the way they'd wanted.  He pushed her an arm's length away from him, to his right.  And he raised the pistol, pointing it at her back.

The security officers had a clear line of fire.  They took their shot.

Eric collapsed, stunned by two electrical shocks.  The crewman was pulled out of the way, and Trip went to Eric's side.  From his position by the door, Eli came running back.

He was still a few yards away when the convulsions started.

That wasn't a normal reaction to a stun.  Trip gripped Eric's shoulders, yelling for someone to call for Dr. Phlox.  Eli slid to a stop on his knees beside his brother's shaking body.

A few agonizing seconds later the seizure stopped as quickly as it had started.  Trip put his fingers to Eric's carotid artery, checking for a pulse, then leaned down to check for breathing.  He looked up and met Eli's gaze, shaking his head.

Trip started CPR.  A short distance away, the crewman who had been his hostage was trying not to cry, drawing in shaky breaths that were the only other sound in the room. The scene was almost surreal. 

Trip stopped the rescue breathing to start chest compressions.  "West, help me," he snapped to Eli. 

The younger West responded, moving to take over breathing for his brother, praying silently for him to live.  Unnoticed tears ran down his own cheeks.

~*~

To Be Continued