A/N's: [ ]= "hallucinations" or otherwise known as fragmented memories of the real universe.
Malcolm Reed couldn't sleep. Something kept nagging at him, a feeling that something was wrong. He had tried calling the bridge about it, but Commander Archer had told him to go to bed.
//Great.// he thought, //I'll never be able to sleep like this.//
He turned over for what seemed like the thousandth time. He then felt a sudden urge to close his eyes and-
[ Everything was blurry. He was running, ever running. Voices were calling him.
"Malcolm!" called out an accented voice, oddly familiar....
"Lt. Reed!" another called out, closer than the first.
//Lieutenant?// he thought to himself.
"I'm not a Lieutenant!" he tried to call out, but then it all started to disappear... ]
Malcolm sat up, sweating and nervous.
"What the hell was that?"
*~*
Ensign Charles Tucker III headed back to his quarters after his shift. Mess hall duty was hard, but at least he was on Enterprise. He had never much been gifted at anything, so just serving on Earth's first deep-space vessel was a dream come true.
He saw few people in the hallways between the mess hall and his quarters. He supposed since it was late, most people were at their stations or asleep.
An odd sensation drew him out of his thoughts. It began at the bottom of his neck, and worked all the way up to his head. The hallway halls began to blur, and he was only dimly aware of where he stood.
[ Purge the impulse manifolds ]
[ EPS conduits need to be rewired ]
[ Pecan pie tonight ]
As quickly as it began, the sensation stopped. He staggered for a moment and grabbed onto a wall for support.
//What manifolds?!// he thought, thoroughly confused, //What EPS conduits?! And what the hell does pecan pie have to do with all of it?//
He waited a moment until his head had cleared slightly, and walked through the last hallway before his quarters.
He walked into a completely foreign room.
He didn't recognize anything. Some part of his rational mind told him that this must be his quarters, but he did not see anything familiar about it.
He noticed a small child, no older than six standing near one of the walls of the cramped quarters.
"Daddy?" she asked softly.
"Who-who are you?" he said, stumbling on the words.
"I'm your daughter, Tara." she said, a look of confusion crossing her face. "What's wrong, Daddy?" she asked worridly.
He looked frantically around, and slowly backed up. "I'm sorry," he said nervously, "I have to go." He turned and ran off, leaving a very confused and frightened child behind.
*Sorry about this chapter, I didn't quite like it myself, so I don't blame you if you dislike it as well. I had strepthroat the past few days, so now I'm trying to catch up on my writing. X-Mas is soon, so then I'll have loads of time to write! :) Happy Holidays to all you out there too!*