CHAPTER 5: Reawakenings
AUTHOR: MNEMOSYNE
SUMMARY: On a lush planet devoid of sentient life, the crew of the Enterprise discover an ancient alien religious artifact that takes two of the crew on a vision quest to Camelot.
"You sure they're gonna be all right, Doc?"
"I assure you, Commander, they will be bright eyed and bushy tailed shortly."
"You sure? Cuz they're both looking kind of pale to me."
"Trip, let's let Doctor Phlox do his job while we do ours. Doctor, you'll let us know as soon as there's any change?"
"Certainly, Captain."
"Okay then. Trip, come on."
"But, what if they wake up after we leave? Or… What if they don't wake up at all? I mean, Malcolm's got this fragile thing going that you wouldn't realize if you hadn't been stuck in a shuttlepod with him for a long time. Alone. That kind of thing, you really get to know a per-"
There was the tell-tale swish of a door opening and closing, then the normal silence of Sickbay.
"It's quite all right, Ensign," Hoshi heard Phlox say cheerfully. "They're gone now. You can open your eyes."
She did so, gingerly, squinting against the septic light of the room. "How did you know/" she asked groggily.
The Doctor gave her an inhumanly large grin. "It is my job to know the conscious or unconscious condition of patients under my care. I could tell from your readings. But I thought you might like a bit of time to collect your thoughts before you spoke to them."
Pushing herself into a sitting position with a moan, Hoshi put a hand to her temple and tried to stop the room from spinning. "What happened?" she grumbled, confused. "I feel like someone landed a squadron of Klingon battle cruisers behind my eyes."
"You and Lieutenant Reed were drugged, it appears. There should be no permanent damage, though you will have the headache for several days." He pressed a hypospray to her neck. Hoshi felt the familiar tingle of painkillers rushing through her bloodstream, and sighed happily as the throbbing in her head began to ease.
"Drugged?" she asked dreamily, closing her eyes and leaning back on her hands.
"The obelisk appeared to be centered on some kind of minute gaseous fissure in the planet's surface. The substance it secreted is extremely hallucinogenic." He smiled again, patting her hand. "I'm not sure what you saw in there, but to quote a phrase Commander Tucker seems quite fond of, it must have been a doozy."
Hoshi managed a weak smile for him. "You could say that." Suddenly, she frowned. "Malcolm? Where is he? Is he all right?"
Phlox nodded. "He's just over here." The Denobulan walked a few steps away and drew back a curtain that had been blocking her view of the neighboring bed. "He got quite a bit more exposure to the gas than you, so he hasn't yet awoken."
He looked like death. Trip hadn't been kidding when he said Malcolm was fragile; seeing him so pale and … inattentive was frightening. Normally he was like a live wire, sparking and ready for action. Now, he looked like a rung out dish rag. "God," she whispered, staring at his milky face. "How long were we in there?"
"Approximately one hour."
She gaped at the doctor. "An HOUR?"
"That is correct. Commander Tucker had to fish you out with grappling hooks, to keep from getting caught himself. Quite an ingenious little plan."
"ONE HOUR!"
"You were expecting something else?"
"Yeah, you could say that." She looked back to Malcolm again. They'd been in the vision world for almost an entire day, yet they'd only been away for an hour. //Just like a dream,// she thought vaguely.
A groan from the object of her attention interrupted her thoughts. "Where am I?" Malcolm asked raspily, not bothering to open his eyes until after he'd finished speaking. They were bloodshot and red.
"Sickbay, Lieutenant," Phlox said cheerfully, pressing a hypospray to Reed's neck before he could move around too much. "Welcome back to the land of the living. You gave us all quite a scare there for a moment."
Suddenly, Hoshi remembered Travis' frantic call. He's not breathing! "What happened?" she asked quickly, watching as the Denobulan helped Malcolm sit up.
"The good Lieutenant seems to have spent his entire time inside the obelisk collapsed directly on top of the fissure," Phlox replied. "Luckily, he blocked enough of the hallucinogen to keep you both from being poisoned. But it nearly shut down Mr. Reed's entire respiratory and cardiovascular systems."
"A shame I don't remember that bit," Malcolm wheezed, wincing as he shifted to get more comfortable.
"Indeed it is," Phlox said, a note of genuine regret in his voice at having to pass up another chance to study the human anatomy.
"Doctor, could you give us a moment alone?" Hoshi heard herself ask.
Phlox nodded. "Of course, Ensign. I'll just be feeding my bat, if you need me." He smiled, first at Hoshi, then Malcolm, and shuffled away.
For a long, long minute, there was silence.
"So-"
"I-"
They laughed nervously at having overlapped each other. "You go first," Hoshi offered.
"No, you. I insist."
"Really, Malcolm. You."
"You, Ensign. That's an order."
So they were back to Ensign and Lieutenant, eh? Well, she'd see about that. "About what happened…" she started nervously. "In the spire…"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Ensign."
She stared at him, dumbstruck. Didn't know? Impossible. She remembered every second of it, clear as crystal. "You're lying," she countered.
"Are you accusing a senior officer of lying?"
"No, I'm accusing Malcolm Reed of lying. Lieutenant Reed would understand the importance of truth."
"Lieutenant Reed understands the importance of letting sleeping dogs lie."
"Except this sleeping dog happens to be running around my legs and yapping at my ankles." She sighed and leaned to the side a little, getting closer to him.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Malcolm glanced sideways at her, then away again. "No need to apologize for anything, Ensign," he said crisply, staring at an invisible mark on the wall.
Hoshi shook her head. "No, Malcolm. Don't do this. I know you remember, and I know you remember what I said." She closed her eyes and swallowed, but made herself continue. "All that stuff… about who you are." She shook her head, opening her eyes again. "It wasn't true. It was just a product of the hallucinogen. I wasn't in control of my conduct when I said them, and I can't do anything but apologize and ask you to forgive me. It was… way out of line for me to say those things." She sighed and looked away again. "I'm sorry."
She could feel his eyes on her profile, but refused to meet his gaze. It was too painful, remembering what she'd said to him. She couldn't imagine how he must be
"It's all true, you know."
She looked up then, and made herself meet his eyes. "What? What's true?"
"What you said, inside the obelisk." He wasn't teasing her. He wasn't angry. He was quiet; accepting. Much as Arthur had been when he'd told her he was forgetting. "About how I've doomed myself; wedded myself to my failures. It's true - all of it."
Hoshi forced herself to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Malcolm-"
"But you were wrong about one thing."
"What was that?" She made herself blink several times, forcing back tears.
"About never seeing beauty." He shook his head slightly. "That's not true. I've seen things more beautiful than I ever thought possible."
"Like…what?"
He smiled faintly. "Like nebulae. Like double sunsets on alien worlds." His eyes softened. "Like beautiful women vowing they'd never leave me, no matter what the temptation."
Hoshi felt herself blush deep crimson.
"I know it wasn't you, Hoshi," he murmured. "I know it was Guinevere. But it was beautiful nonetheless. Thank you."
How was she supposed to respond? Was she supposed to nod and say, "Hey, no problem"? Was she supposed to shrug it off? Was she supposed to admit she wasn't so entirely different from Guinevere in that sentiment?
She decided to go the simple route. "You're welcome," she said softly.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, letting the painkillers pulse through their systems and soothe unrealized aches and pains.
"Do you think it was real?" she asked, voicing the question that had dangled like a bone in the air between them.
"I don't know," Malcolm answered softly.
She paused, then asked, "Do you hope it was?"
He looked at her then, blue eyes unusually distant. "I'm not sure," he murmured thoughtfully. "Do you?"
She took a moment to decide. "No," she said firmly. "I don't."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't like the idea of a being a helpless audience. I'd rather be a helpful participant."
His laugh took her by surprise. "What's so funny?" she asked defensively.
"You don't realize it, but you WERE a helpful participant," he told her with a grin.
"How so?" She frowned.
"You made me realize what a priggish fool I can be sometimes," he explained quietly. "That doesn't mean I'm going to change anytime soon, but… I'm aware of it now. I always have been, I think, though I've never let it affect me. It's just…who I am."
She managed a small smile. "Then I guess the hallucinogens did their job after all, didn't they?"
"It would appear so."
With a wider smile, Hoshi reached across the space between them and grabbed his hand. "You know, I don't think it was as dour in there as I made it out to be."
After a moment, Malcolm let his fingers loosen and lace with hers. "How so?"
"Well, there's this thing about King Arthur that hadn't really occurred to me, and I think it makes everything a lot more positive."
"What's that?"
She squeezed his hand. "In the legend, Arthur eventually comes back." She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. "He gets a second chance."
She saw him mull that over for a bit, then saw a faint smile flicker on his lips. "I suppose he does," he murmured. "Of course… There's no mention of Guinevere when he returns."
Hoshi shrugged. "Forget Guinevere. She was a weak, helpless little puppet. Arthur would need someone much stronger than that when he returns. Someone much more culturally aware."
"Someone like a communications specialist?" he asked, voice light with amusement.
"Perhaps," she answered noncommittally. "Or a worldly wise engineer…"
"No!"
Hoshi laughed, then slipped off her bunk, toddling across the space between them to perch on the edge of his bed. "Okay then," she said, smiling. "We'll go with option A."
"I like that idea," he replied, reaching up to stroke her hair gently.
She stared into his eyes. They were faceted, she realized; different shades of blue and green, mixed together to make his distinctive steely gaze. Only they weren't steely right now; they were soft, like ripples on a forest pool. Beautiful, just as they had been in the vision.
"My lord," she whispered, not looking away. "What happened after I was stolen away?"
His hand kept caressing her hair, unchecked. "I died," he murmured.
She reached up to still his hand, clutching it tightly in her own. "How?"
He shrugged. "Months passed, and you were nowhere to be found. Mordred declared me lovelorn and unfit to rule. He made war on Camelot, until I met him on the fields beside the Lady's silver lake. We fought, and he slew me, even as I slew him with Excalibur's gleaming blade."
"But… you were in there less than a minute after I was taken. You could not have lived months and months in that time."
"But I did."
"But…how!"
He shrugged. "The spire exists in a temporal dilation. It knows nothing of time. It gave me one night with you, then many, many months alone." He shook his head. "I do not want to live that way again."
Leaning forward, Hoshi rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Don't worry, Malcolm," she whispered. "You won't have to."
She felt soft lips brush the crown of her head. "Sweet dreams, dearest," he whispered against her hair, curling his arms around her waist.
"Sweet dreams, my love," she murmured, before letting the beat of his heart and the soft, memorable scent of his aftershave lull her to sleep.
THE END