Narcosis: Chapter 9

By Piper

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details.

~*~

Eli West gripped his brother's hand, stared intensely at his closed eyes, and willed him to wake up.

It didn't work. He hadn't really expected it to. But he'd grown tired of talking about mundane things as if they were having a normal conversation; he was tired of getting no response.

There had been no change in Eric. Dr. Phlox didn't think that there would be until he was given some sort of antidote, but that didn't stop Eli from hoping that those eyes would open at any moment.

He leaned closer and began speaking again. "Eric, I know you can hear me. You know how I hate it when you ignore me." He tried to smile at his weak attempt at humor, but it wasn't working. "Please, big brother…I need you. You can't leave me now, not after all that we've gone through to get here. I can't do this without you," he finished in a whisper. Of course, he got no response.

He was so focused on his brother that he'd tuned out everything around them, so when a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned to find Hoshi standing beside him. "How's he doing?" she asked softly.

"The same," he sighed in response. Then he smiled humorlessly, "You know, it's funny. I just told him how I hate it when he ignores me. But right now I'd give anything to have him conscious, even if he was paying no attention to me whatsoever."

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell him that when he wakes up."

He thought about that for a second and then actually laughed. "Great, then he can remind me of it every time I'm annoying him! I'll never get him to listen again!"

She laughed with him; both of them releasing some stress and tension. Dr. Phlox came over to join them. "I'm glad to see you both in better spirits," he said with a smile of his own. "I have some good news for you. The Captain and his team are in decontamination right now and I'm told that the mission was quite successful. They're bringing the sample straight here. We will hopefully have a solution to all of this soon."

He spoke the truth; about fifteen minutes later the Captain, Ensign Cutler, and a crewman entered carrying spoils of their mission. Archer and Cutler spoke to the doctor while the crewman placed some sort of cage on an examining table. Eli watched as Elizabeth pulled sample containers from her bag and handed them to Phlox. Shortly there was some gesturing to the cage, and Phlox nodded and said something, actually sticking a finger through the bars. He pulled them back out intact, prompting Hoshi to say; "I wonder what they brought back."

They continued to watch as the crewman was dismissed and Phlox and Cutler turned to begin working with the samples. Captain Archer spotted the two of them watching the events and came over to them.

"Hoshi, how are you feeling?" he said in greeting.

"As good as new, Captain," she said with a smile.

"Good. I brought you a souvenir." He handed her a small black and green device, pressing a button as he did so that produced an alien dialect being dictated by a female voice. Eli could have sworn that he saw Hoshi's eyes actually light up. "We think it's something of a tape recorder. See what you can make of it," the Captain instructed with a smile.

She nodded absently and walked off, her attention focused on the recorder and figuring out which buttons did what.

The Captain watched her leave, still smiling and shaking his head affectionately. Then he turned back to Eli. "How are you two doing?" he asked, including the comatose Eric in his glance.

Eli gave him a weak smile. "Hanging on, sir."

Jonathan nodded. "Keep hanging. We're going to figure this out now," he said softly. Then he walked towards the cage they had sat in the middle of the room. "In the meantime," he said, opening the door and pulling something fuzzy out, "See if you can entertain this little guy until the doctor needs him."

Eli stared at the creature in the Captain's arms. "Is that…"

Archer nodded. "Mickey," he said with a smile. "We think this is the same animal Eric and the others saw before. You named him; so it seems only fair that you should get to know him first."

Eli held his arms out as the Captain reached to place Mickey in them. He and the big mouse stared at each other uncertainly for a moment.

Archer spoke again, "Don't worry, he hasn't shown any dangerous qualities. Doctor Phlox recognized his species and says that they're usually quite tame. He doesn't even have teeth."

Eli tilted his head closer to Mickey's, looking curiously at his mouth. Suddenly an orange tongue shot out, licking him on the nose. He pulled back abruptly and wrinkled his nose.

The Captain laughed. "He does, however, have a rather long tongue. I think he likes you."

"Thanks, sir," Eli said with a touch of sarcasm, but he smiled at the critter as it nestled against him.

At that moment, Ensign Mayweather entered through the main sickbay doors. He spotted Captain Archer and made a beeline for them.

Jonathan greeted him, "Travis, have you and Trip been holding down the fort?"

Travis faltered for a moment, then said, "Well, I have. Sir, I think we have a problem."

The Captain narrowed his gaze, immediately picking up on the insinuation in Travis's statement. "Is something wrong with Trip?"

"Well I can't really be sure, but he never showed up on the bridge. I went to his quarters looking for him. He was in there and he was talking to me, but he wouldn't open the door. I thought it was strange."

"That's not like Trip," Archer mused.

"No, I didn't think so. But then he said something that helped it make a little more sense. He mentioned the crewman that Eric took hostage earlier." He let the words sink in, seeing that the Captain's line of thought went exactly where his had, and then finished, "I think he may have found Malcolm."

Jonathan drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes. Eli felt his own eyes widen in shock as he looked from Travis to the Captain. Lieutenant Reed was holding Commander Tucker hostage?

~*~

Trip was ready for this nightmare to be over now.

Unfortunately that wasn't really his decision. Malcolm had control of this situation, and he didn't seem too anxious to give it up any time soon.

Trip had taken to leaning against the wall beside his bunk, resting his still aching head back against it. He kept a wary eye on the shape he knew was Malcolm. The tactical officer had retreated back to the dark corner of the room, phase pistol still in hand.

He didn't know anything about Eric's situation, so he hadn't understood Trip's veiled hint to Travis. Still, he hadn't liked that Trip had strayed from the dictated script, and the pistol that had been pointed vaguely at his head had found it's way to the skin covering his carotid artery. Trip had shut up and been grateful for Travis's footsteps going away from the room. Then he'd told his captor that a crewman had been injured in engineering and he was simply worried about her; he obviously hadn't had time to check on her since he'd been in here. Malcolm had still looked at him suspiciously, but the pistol had slowly pulled away from his throat.

And now, they were right back where they'd started from, with the slight exception of Trip being conscious. He hated this. He wanted to get Malcolm some help and get himself an aspirin. He could only pray that Travis had figured out the hint, and that the young helmsman would proceed carefully but quickly. Malcolm wasn't progressing as fast as the others had, and Trip wasn't sure whether to be more concerned about what Malcolm might do to him or what Malcolm might do to himself. Either way, he would prefer not to be trapped with few options.

But Malcolm was being so quiet. He should probably be happy that he was calm, but it was unnerving. He sighed, then risked saying, "Will you tell me something?"

"What?" came a quiet response.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

There was a long silence, then, "I'm sorry I hit you."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "It's okay. I think I'm gonna live," he joked softly. "I forgive you."

At that, Malcolm pushed himself out of the shadows and went back to his pacing. "Why?"

"Why do I forgive you?" he asked a bit incredulously. Malcolm nodded jerkily as he went past, obviously expecting an answer. Trip found himself searching for the right one. "You're my friend. And you're not yourself. It wasn't really your fault.

"Really, because I seem to recall taking the butt of this pistol and slamming it into the back of your scull with a considerable amount of force."

Trip grew tired of following the Ping-Pong motion with his eyes. "Hey Mal, why don't you sit down here? You're making me dizzy."

Malcolm stopped mid-pace to stare at him, then slowly complied. As he settled gingerly beside the engineer, pistol in the hand furthest from Trip, he asked, "What did you just call me?"

"Mal. It's a nickname," he shrugged. He didn't really know where that had come from; it just seemed like a good idea to show a familiarity and affection so that Malcolm might remember that he was his friend. Then he might not be so apt to kill him. "What, you don't like it?"

There was a rather lengthy pause, then "It's fine. My sister used to call me that when we were little. She's the only one who ever gave me a nickname."

To someone who went by a nickname on a regular basis, that was a little surprising. Trip said, "Well then, it's about time you had one again." That actually earned him a little smile.

But it was gone too quickly. Malcolm shook his head, staring at some point on the far wall. "I suppose most parents give their child some sort of nickname, don't they? Mine never seemed to care that much."

Trip glanced at him sharply. This might be a normal feeling for his friend, and under other circumstances his willingness to talk about it would be great. But right then, the last thing Trip wanted was a depressing topic that might send Malcolm over the edge. "I think most parents are far from perfect," he said sympathetically. "But it sounds like you and your sister were close," he added, trying to steer towards a safer topic.

"Not really. We got along all right, but we were never really that close. I've never really been that close to anyone."

Trip mentally kicked himself. Malcolm had told him this before during their little adventure on the shuttlepod, though he'd hoped it was more of a reaction to their situation than the way he really felt about himself. Apparently not. But now that Trip was thinking about that conversation, he remembered something else Malcolm had told him.

"What about us? You told me a couple of months ago that this crew was becoming like a family for you."

Malcolm's eyes went cold. "I was wrong. It happens." He stood again, walking away. "No one cares about me here."

"You know that's not true," Trip responded emphatically. He pushed himself off the bunk as well, then had to pause for a moment while his vision blurred and then cleared again. When he refocused, Malcolm was looking at him from a few feet away. "This isn't you talking. You're not well, Malcolm."

"What, after all that you just said, now you're going to tell me I'm insane?" He was waving his hands, the pistol naturally going along.

Trip winced as it waved in his direction. "No! You're not crazy; you're sick. This crew is trying to find a way to help you. The Captain's out there right now, risking his life for you."

Malcolm was shaking his head in denial.

"Yes, he is. You heard him; he took a crew back to the station. You remember the station?"

"Of course I remember!" Malcolm snapped. The pistol stopped waving and leveled at Trip's chest.

The chief engineer sucked in a breath, then tread forward carefully. "You were exposed to something at the station, Mal. That's why you're acting like this. That's why you feel the way you do right now."

Malcolm again shook his head, but less emphatically.

Trip could tell he was at least listening to what was being said. He softened his voice and said gently, "It's gonna be okay." He stepped closer.

Suddenly, there was a light knock on the door. They both jerked towards it. The Captain's voice came through, "Trip?"

Trip recovered from his surprise and looked to Malcolm, who was still looking at the door—and had swung the gun towards it. He made a split second decision in the instant that Malcolm started to turn back.

He lunged for the pistol.

~*~

To Be Continued