Title: Lost In Darkness

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: PG 13

AN: Thanks to Daria (oops, we did it again... leave it to us to do a little creative English ;-); no, seriously, thanks for pointing it out so we could correct it), Lowenove, ally, Jm, Chianna and The Libran Iniquity for reviewing. Some of you said the chapters were (too?) short; well, they are about to get longer :-)...

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Chapter 3

The cell door opened and Malcolm, who'd been nervously pacing the small room for the last sixty minutes, stopped in his tracks and turned around. The guard stood in the doorway, holding Trip by the arm. The Commander was more hanging in the guard's grip than standing on his own feet, and when the guard gave him a slight shove, pushing him into the cell, he stumbled and would have fallen if Reed hadn't caught him.

"Commander!"

Reed put an arm around Trip's waist and guided him over to the wall, helping him sit down. Trip didn't seem able or willing to speak at the moment, drawing his knees up to his chest and closing his eyes. Malcolm experienced a sinking feeling as his eyes fell on his friend's battered face. Trip looked awful, his mouth and lips caked with dry blood, both his eyes badly bruised and swollen shut. He had his arms wrapped around his midriff, bending forward as if he were in pain.

"Trip, what happened?" Malcolm crouched beside him, laying a tentative hand on Trip's shoulder. Trip raised his head, forcing his swollen eyelids apart, and had just opened his mouth to speak when he started coughing, his body shaking violently. Moaning softly, he bent forward again, squeezing his eyes shut, and Malcolm's concern deepened as he saw the Commander's face contort in pain. Putting an arm around Trip's shoulders, he held him until the coughing subsided. Then he helped him lean back against the wall and got up.

"Wait a minute, I'll get you something to drink."

Quickly, he walked over to where he'd put the jug of water the guard had brought earlier, and poured some of the stale liquid into the plastic cup. Kneeling back down next to Trip, he helped him guide the cup to his lips and felt a surge of relief when Trip slowly, awkwardly took a sip and swallowed.

"Yes, that's right. Take it easy," he said in what he hoped to be a calming tone of voice. After Trip had taken a few more sips he seemed to have had enough, and Malcolm set the cup down on the floor.

"Feeling better now?" he asked, and Trip nodded, wiping his lip that had started bleeding again.

"Thanks Malcolm," he said, his voice sounding hoarse. Malcolm noticed that he was still sitting in a slightly awkward, hunched up position, holding his stomach as if it were hurting badly.

"Are you injured?" he asked. Trip shook his head.

"No, it's alright," he said. "I'm just a little..."

Another coughing fit racked his body and he curled up tighter, wincing in pain.

"Just a little injured," Reed stated dryly. He put a hand on Trip's arm, and noticed how tense his muscles were. "Let me take a look at it, okay?"

Trip shook his head, closing his eyes again. Malcolm studied his weary, pain-lined face, and bit his lip. Maybe Trip was hurt worse than he'd thought.

"Come on, Trip," he urged. "Don't be silly. Let me take a look at it."

When the Commander only sat there, showing no reaction at all, Reed carefully pulled away Trip's arms and lifted up his shirt. At the sight of the dark bruises and swelling on Trip's abdomen, Malcolm took in a sharp breath.

Looks like there's been some inner bleeding, he thought. What the hell did they do?

Trying to cover up his startled reaction, he let go of Trip's shirt, pulling it back down. He looked up at the Commander's face and tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke.

"What did they do?"

Trip slowly turned his head, opening his eyes again. "They kept askin' me these questions... how do I feel, do I feel threatened and so on... when I wouldn't answer they... well, they didn't like that."

Reed remembered that they'd asked him similar things when he'd been questioned, but they hadn't been very persistent, soon proceeding to taking scans of his body, poking and prodding him when they didn't get any satisfying answers to their questions. Obviously Trip hadn't been that lucky.

"Do you want to lie down?" he asked a little helplessly. Comforting people was not exactly what he was best at, and he didn't really know what to say or do to make Trip feel better.

Trip nodded wearily, and Malcolm pulled off his jacket, rolling it up and placing it on the floor.

"Come on, let me help you," he said, supporting Trip as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor, laying his head down on the makeshift pillow. Turning onto his side, Trip drew his knees up to his chest again and closed his eyes. Malcolm huddled up against the wall next to him, watching the Commander's pained features, sharply outlined by the harsh light coming from the ceiling lamp.

I wish Phlox were here, he thought. Like this, I don't even know whether his injuries are life-threatening or not.

Leaning back, he fixed a spot on the opposite wall, pondering their situation. With both of them locked up in here and Enterprise several light years away, there wasn't much he could do to help Trip. Well, nothing, actually. It wouldn't be any use to ask their captors for medical help, that much was obvious. And he himself couldn't do anything, either; he had neither a med kit nor the knowledge to treat internal injuries. His chest tightened at the thought of Trip bleeding to death here on the cold stone floor of the cell, while he had to watch, not being able to do anything.

Looking back at the Commander, Reed noticed Trip's breathing had quieted down. He wasn't moving at all and his face looked even paler than before. Frowning, Malcolm reached out and put a hand on Trip's forehead. His skin felt unusually cold and clammy, and Malcolm realized with a start that Trip was obviously about to go into shock.

He mustn't fall asleep, Malcolm thought, resisting the urge to grab Trip by the shoulder and shake him to keep him from slipping away into unconsciousness. Crouching beside Trip, he put a gentle hand onto his shoulder instead.

"Trip," he said. "Commander! Wake up!"

Trip turned his head slightly, but didn't open his eyes. Malcolm began to feel even more worried.

"Trip! Come on, wake up! You can't go to sleep now."

"Malcolm?" Trip mumbled, his eyes still closed.

Reed sighed in relief. "Thank God you're awake. Come on, open your eyes."

Trip groaned, wearily blinking up at him. "Go 'way. Lemme sleep."

Malcolm shook his head, tightening his grip on Trip's shoulder. "No, Trip, you have to stay awake now. Come on, talk to me. Tell me... tell me about movie night last Friday. What did they show?"

"You were there too." Trip closed his eyes again. "Don't need to tell you."

"Tell me about the week before then!" Malcolm felt nervousness build in the pit of his stomach as he saw just how out of it Trip seemed to be. "What did they show the Friday before?"

"Don't remember." Trip seemed close to falling asleep again, and Malcolm racked his mind, trying to think of a topic of conversation that would keep Trip awake for sure.

"Well, what about T'Pol?" he asked finally. "Do you like her?"

To his immense relief, Trip opened his eyes again. "What? Why d'ya ask?"

"Come on," Reed said, trying to give his voice a teasing tone and finding it wasn't that hard after all. "I know you fancy her."

"I don't. At least I'm not starin' at her butt all the time," Trip said, sounding definitely a lot less sleepy than before.

Reed cleared his throat. "I'm not. And you do fancy her, everyone knows you do."

"What!" For the first time since they had begun their conversation, Trip actually looked at Malcolm, a dismayed expression on his face. "They don't, do they?" Realizing what he'd just said, Trip blushed a little. "Er... I mean... what're you talkin' about?"

Satisfied at having Trip's full attention again, Reed waved him off. "Nothing. I was only joking."

Adjusting Trip's pillow, he smiled down at the Commander. "How do you feel?"

"Like somethin' crawled into my head and died." Trip sighed and coughed a few times. Reed saw him wince in pain and his smile faded.

"Do you want some more water?"

Trip nodded and Reed got up. As he poured some more water into the plastic cup, he noticed that the jug was almost empty. Dismissing the idea of taking a sip of the water himself, he handed Trip the cup and watched as the Commander propped himself up on one elbow. Trip put the cup to his lips, but then his eyes fell on Malcolm and he paused.

"You need to drink somethin', too."

Reed quickly shook his head, involuntarily licking his cracked lips. "I'm not thirsty."

Trip put the cup back down. "Me neither."

Malcolm sighed in exasperation. "Trip, you're injured. You need to drink something. Now don't be silly."

He thrust the cup back at the Commander, but Trip refused to take it. "I told you, I'm not thirsty."

Malcolm put the cup down in front of him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Mr. Tucker, stop being such a bloody stubborn idiot and drink that water."

Trip lay back down, deliberately turning away from the cup, and shook his head. "Not before you had somethin' to drink as well."

"Fine." Reed got up again, picking up the jug. "I'll ask that guard character if he'll get us some more."

He was already on his way to the door when Trip called him back. "Malcolm, wait."

Reed turned around and saw Trip had sat up again, looking at him with a strange expression on his face. His voice sounded subdued when he continued.

"Maybe it would be a better idea not to... attract their attention when it's not absolutely necessary."

Malcolm frowned. "Why?"

Trip didn't answer immediately, avoiding to meet his eyes. Beginning to feel slightly worried, Malcolm sat down next to him again.

"What is it, Trip?"

Trip still wouldn't look at him. "When they... when I was in that interrogation room, one of them said somethin' about 'upcomin' tests'. He said they'd need our cooperation in these tests. I asked that guard about it, but he wouldn't tell me, sayin' we'd see soon enough. I don't think this is good news, though." Finally he raised his eyes, and Reed saw the worry there. Trip's voice sounded very calm, and Malcolm knew he was trying not to let any of his feelings show through as he continued.

"I think we gotta be real careful, Malcolm."

Reed nodded, absentmindedly putting the jug back down onto the floor. Trip was right; this didn't sound good at all. He hadn't liked this talk about 'cooperation' from the start, and now, considering what these people had done to Trip, the thought of them planning to perform some kind of tests made him quite nervous, to say the least.

"I can't think what they would need our cooperation for, though," he said, looking back at Trip. "Do you think these... these questions about how we feel could have something to do with the tests?"

Trip shrugged, but Reed could see he had been thinking along the same lines. "Dunno. Maybe."

For a while they sat in silence. Reed felt restless. He hated not being able to do anything, being reduced to ducking and hoping their captors would leave them alone if they kept quiet long enough. Maybe he wasn't that good at talking to people, but he sure knew what he would do if he only had his phaser with him.

I'm the bloody Security Officer and can't do a single thing to protect my fellow officer. He jumped up and started pacing. It felt good, venting some of his frustration simply by moving a little, but his attention was still focused on what Trip had told him. It couldn't be that there was nothing they could do about this. Finally Malcolm stopped in his tracks and looked back at Trip who had his arms wrapped around his knees again, gloomily staring at the opposite wall.

"Okay. So maybe we don't know what the tests are about, but one thing we know for sure: They need us to actively take part in this, or else they wouldn't talk about cooperation all the time. They need us to participate."

Trip simply looked at him, his face more or less expressionless. "You mean we should refuse to do so."

Reed noticed the pain lines had still not disappeared from Trip's face. Suddenly feeling less confident, Malcolm sat down on the floor next to Trip and sighed.

"They wouldn't like it, of course."

"No, that they wouldn't." Trip shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall behind him. "Still, I think you're right."

Reed looked up. Trip met his gaze evenly. "It's pretty obvious these tests ain't gonna be about finding out what flavor of icecream we like best. We'll probably be better off not doin' what they want us to, even if... they won't like it. Besides..."

He trailed off, but Reed had quite a good idea of what he'd been about to say. It had something to do with not being a helpless victim if one could help it. He nodded. He had no intention of giving up that easily, either.

Neither of them spoke another word after that, but still Reed felt strangely calm, now that they had come to that decision. It was easier facing what was about to come with a clear idea of what they were going to do.

He leaned back against the wall next to Trip and closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep now, but it felt like a good idea to try and think of nothing for a while.

-###-

"This is unacceptable."

The Supervisor turned away from the monitor, looking at the First Assistant who clasped his hands behind his back.

"What do you suggest we do, sir?"

The Supervisor gave no response, turning back to the screen. The Assistants came up beside him, the three of them watching the two test subjects on the screen.

From where he stood at the door, the Guard had quite a good view of the monitor, too. He saw that the small one had settled down again after pacing up and down the cell for a while. Now both aliens seemed to be sleeping or resting; they hadn't spoken to each other for quite a while now, leaning against the wall with their eyes closed. From the slow and careful way the taller one had been moving earlier, the Guard could see that he was in quite a lot of pain. When they'd watched him curl up on the cell floor before, the Supervisor had stated that Subject 2 had probably been damaged during the interrogation, advising the Second Assistant to be more careful next time. And even though the Guard had never really been able to read the Researchers' body language correctly, he still had the distinct impression that the Supervisor was a little annoyed. He had all reason to be, too. The interrogation had been less than successful, to say the least.

When the questioning had first begun, the Guard had actually felt a bit amused at the impudent behaviour of the young alien, but his amusement had soon vanished to be replaced by a feeling of slight concern when he'd seen just how relentlessly the Researchers had smothered those feeble attempts at rebellion. The alien had been hardly able to walk when he'd taken him back to the cell.

Although the Guard gave no sign that he'd heard and understood the Researchers' conversation, he of course knew what the Supervisor found to be so unacceptable. The way these two were encouraging each other in their decision to refuse any cooperation in the tests was an inconvenience the Researchers hadn't been expecting.

"It seems like we will have to take more drastic measures, sir," the Second Assistant stated, never taking his eyes off the screen. The Supervisor turned his head.

"What measures were you thinking of, Assistant?"

The Assistant crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I suggest we proceed in a similar way as we did with the last subjects."

Throwing a glance at the Supervisor who was looking at the screen again, obviously considering the Assistant's suggestion, the Guard shifted on his feet. He found himself seriously hoping that the Supervisor would decide against taking similar measures as they had done with the last subjects. Those aliens had been quite uncooperative at first, too, but when the Researchers had begun injecting them those chemical toxins, their resistance had been broken quickly, and they hadn't lasted for too long after that. Somehow, the Guard didn't like the idea of this happening to these two aliens.

After watching the monitor for a few more moments, the Supervisor picked up his padd again and turned to his Assistants.

"I do not think this is such a good idea," he said. "The subjects might be damaged even further, which would make them useless for the tests. My suggestion is that we separate them."

At these words, the Guard experienced a sudden unfamiliar surge of emotion. After watching the aliens for the last two days, he realized separating them would probably be just about as cruel as taking the "drastic measures" the Second Assistant had suggested. From listening to their conversations, he knew that they were giving each other strength, helping each other cope with the situation. Separating them would leave them without any kind of emotional support, a thing which seemed to be quite important to members of their species.

The Guard came to a decision.

"Supervisor..." he began, and the three Researchers raised their heads simultaneously, obviously quite surprised at hearing him speak.

"What is it?" the Supervisor asked.

The Guard cleared his throat.

"With all due respect, sir, I do not think it would be... advisable to separate those two aliens. It... it might only enforce their decision to refuse cooperation."

Now the Supervisor turned away from the screen so he was facing him and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You are forgetting your place, Guard," he said icily. "You are not to interfere with any of the researching business. I thought I made that clear before."

"Yes, sir." The Guard watched the Supervisor turn away again and felt a twinge of regret when he realized that he wouldn't be able to accomplish anything. But then, he hadn't really expected that, either. Looking back at the screen, the Guard took another glance at the two sleeping aliens, then deliberately turned his head away. Maybe it would be best not to think about it anymore.

TBC...

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