AN: Thanks to Reedie, Gabi, KaliedescopeCat, Aeryn Lavanthia (the best Enterprise story?? *blush* Thank you!!), Jaws, The Libran Iniquity (you're starting to sound just like Stuart Reed... "Nothing happened to my little Malcolm, he just got a little battered, that's all..." *veg*), Daria, Les1, tnickel, angel, Exploded Pen (did you get our e-mail?) and Spike26 for reviewing Chapter 9!
Now, finally... the epilogue! Please r&r!
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Epilogue
Reed was sitting at a table in the mess hall, cradling a cup of lukewarm mint tea in his hands. The tea had been hot when he'd taken it from the resequencer an hour ago, but since Malcolm wasn't thirsty, he didn't really care if it was growing cold. In the end, he knew he would only dump it in the waste recycler again like he'd done on all the previous nights he'd been sitting here these last two months.
He didn't really know why he always came to the mess hall when he couldn't sleep. Somehow, when he woke from these nightmares, his dark quarters always seemed strangely depressing to him, and most of the times he found his racing pulse wouldn't slow down until he got out of bed and left that room, wandering restlessly through Enterprise's corridors. After a while, he always ended up in the mess hall, sitting down at the same table each night, in front of him a cup of tea he knew he wouldn't drink anyway. In a way, the mess hall seemed to be neutral ground, a place where you came with a purpose, where no one expected you to do anything but get yourself some food or a drink and sit down at a table. If you did that, people left you alone, thinking you only left your quarters for a midnight snack, and didn't ask any awkward questions you couldn't answer anyway. What exactly were you supposed to tell people who asked you how you were feeling, or if you enjoyed being back on duty, or if you'd liked the movie they'd shown last Friday on movie night? You could either lie to them, say what they wanted to hear, or... well, thinking about it, that actually was the only option. Lately, Malcolm had begun to doubt a number of things he'd taken for granted all his life, but one thing he knew for sure: He wasn't going to tell anybody about what he kept seeing in those nightmares, those horrible visions that had been haunting his sleep ever since Enterprise had found them on that planet two months ago. Actually, he couldn't tell anybody either, since he didn't really know what he was seeing, anyway. He knew it was dark in that place, and he knew he was running, running away from something or somebody, but that was about it. It was a terrible place, cold and strangely out of perspective, and you had the impression of running downhill although you saw the ground was sloping upwards. He knew there had been a time when he'd actually been there, not only in his dreams, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about. And so he came to the mess hall almost every night, not drinking his tea and staring out at the stars.
Sometimes when he was here, Trip would come, silently joining him at the table and nursing a drink of his own. They never talked much at these occasions, simply sitting there, sharing a silence they both welcomed and needed. These last two months, Malcolm hadn't really felt the need to talk to anyone, but anyone except Trip seemed to be uncomfortable when he only sat there, making no contributions of his own to the small talk the others were so desperately trying to keep up. Most people seemed to take on a slightly subdued air when either he or Trip were around, careful not to put their foot in it by laughing or joking, and at the same time trying to treat them as if nothing had changed. And while neither he nor Trip took offense at anyone having a good time - hell, Malcolm desperately hoped there would come a time when he himself would be able to laugh and joke again without having to force the smile on his face - it was very straining, having to endure those concerned looks and whispered comments all the time. So Trip and he kept together most of the time, sitting at their table in the mess hall, stabbing their food, isolated from the crew who maybe even felt secretly relieved at not having to keep them company. It made him sad, being an outsider again after he'd started to feel so comfortable with the people on this ship, but Malcolm didn't really know what he was supposed to do to make things like they had been before. He couldn't simply forget about the whole thing and act like nothing ever happened... he just couldn't. He knew that if he did, it would only be a fake. And even though the Reeds were usually quite good at pretending, during the last few years Malcolm had gotten so used to not having to feign any of his feelings that he wasn't even sure if he would be able to do so again. At times, a helpless fury took hold of him when he thought of those people back on that planet and what they'd done to his life. And come to think of it, to the life of his best friend as well, for Trip, who used to be the center of attention at any kind of social event, was as isolated now as he was.
Suddenly Malcolm heard the door swishing open and raised his head. Trip came in, but at first he didn't acknowledge Reed's presence, walking over to the resequencer and ordering his usual glass of cold milk. Taking the glass, Trip stood there for a moment, looking as if he didn't really know what to do next. Then his eyes fell on Reed sitting there and he crossed the mess hall, setting his glass down on the table.
"Hey, Malcolm."
Reed gave a small nod, and Trip took a seat across from him. For a while neither of them spoke a word, both of them staring down at their drinks. In a way, Malcolm found he was feeling kind of relieved that Trip had come. Although he didn't want to talk, sitting all alone in the dark wasn't going to make him feel any better either.
When after a while Trip spoke up again, Malcolm almost startled.
"Malcolm," Trip said quietly, "aren't you gettin' kind of tired of this whole business?"
Reed looked up, but didn't say anything. He knew, of course, what Trip was talking about, and yes, he was indeed tired of the whole thing, but what use would it be saying so? It wouldn't change anything about their situation.
"You know," he said after a while when the silence was getting awkward, "I am, but... I just can't forget about what happened either. It's... it's there all the time... I'm sure you know what I mean."
Trip nodded. "I know what you mean, but..." He hesitated. "I just can't stand this anymore. I hate thinkin' about it all the time, and I hate the others treatin' us like... like we're traumatized or somethin'..."
Reed let out a bitter laugh. "Aren't we?"
"No, we're not!" Trip got up and started to pace. "Maybe I can't forget about the whole thing, but I'll be damned if I let it ruin my life! Don't you see, this was over two months ago, and nothing's changed. We're still sittin' here every night and people still aren't talkin' to us..."
"I know!" Reed noticed he had raised his voice as well, and took a deep breath before he continued. "I know, Trip, but I... I can't just act as if nothing had happened, as if I didn't wake up from these nightmares every night only to come here and sit here, wishing I could go back to sleep..."
Trip had stopped in his tracks and was now looking at him with a rather strange expression on his face. Malcolm half-expected him to get angry, to shout back at him, but Trip only returned to the table, sitting down heavily on his chair. For a while neither of them spoke a word, and Malcolm began to feel sorry for the way he had lashed out at Trip. He hadn't really intended to, the words had just come out somehow, and now he found he felt kind of ashamed. After all, Trip had memories of his own he had to deal with and didn't need Malcolm starting an argument with him when he was only trying to find a way to get on with his life.
"Look, Trip..." Reed began after a while. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. It's just that... you know, sometimes I'm afraid they're still out there somewhere. That... that it could happen again, any time..." He swallowed. "I know Captain Archer says they're probably using some kind of sophisticated cloaking device, but I don't think so. I think they're just not there anymore... " He trailed off. Trip was looking at him, and Reed saw his own feelings mirrored on the Commander's face. After a moment Trip averted his eyes, staring into his glass.
"You know, Malcolm, sometimes... I know that probably sounds stupid, but sometimes I think they weren't even real people. I don't know why, but... "
Reed nodded. "Doesn't sound stupid at all," he said quietly. Silence followed, and Malcolm was glad Trip didn't pursue the matter, for that wasn't something he wanted to talk about. The images were there, always present in his mind, and he didn't want to acknowledge their presence by talking about them. Maybe it was really time to just let it go, or at least try to do so.
Coming to a decision, he got up. "I think I'll go back to bed," he said, picking up his tea which had grown completely cold by now. "See you tomorrow."
He was already on his way to the door when Trip called him back.
"Malcolm, wait."
Reed turned around.
"Maybe this isn't the best time to ask," Trip said, getting up as well, "but Hoshi told me today she was plannin' a party for Jon... you know, his birthday's comin' up next week. She said she could use some help organizin' it."
He met Reed's eyes, and for the first time in days Malcolm saw something like a smile cross Trip's face. "Well, what d'you say?"
Malcolm didn't answer immediately. He felt strange. He wouldn't have thought it, but talking to Trip, voicing his fears that had been keeping him awake all those weeks, had actually loosened something within him instead of making him feel even worse like he'd expected it would. Reed realized that he actually felt a genuine interest in that party, an interest which he didn't have to fake. With some kind of startled surprise Malcolm became aware of the fact that he wanted to participate, to take part in everyday life on Enterprise even though his sleep might still be haunted by those nightmares. Trip had been right. They mustn't let this keep them down forever, they had to move on with their lives. And they would get through this together. Malcolm knew that someday they would be able to leave the darkness behind, no matter how much time and effort it took. And maybe helping Hoshi organizing that party would be a good way to start.
"Sounds good," Malcolm said, feeling a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "So, have you got any plans yet?"
Trip's grin widened. "You bet."
The End
Please let us know what you think... one more time :-).
AN: Some of you said they wanted to know what happened to the Guard, the Researchers, Trip and Malcolm and so on, so we got our plot bunnies running, and we've already come up with a plot for the sequel! Now we only have to write it, and that might take some time (but not too much). In the meantime, though, if you want more of our scribblings, you could go and read our new fic "The Q Experience" (first chapter will be posted soon). Just a little advertising *g*.
Now... many thanks to
Luna, Drogna, Kool-Cat, fiona, Rusty Armour, Jm, Chianna, Carmina Burana, Ocean, Maraschino, PJ in NH, VanishingP2000, DA, Silvia, Skye29, soultoast, loz, Moneypenny, trecia, Pike2, looneyluna, csifan2000, Nikki, Wolfa Moon, skully, Daniella, Nikitaoo2010, cryogenie, Jaws, Orion9, wendy, tnickel, angel and Spike26
for reviewing...
and special thanks to
Daria, Lowenove, Exploded Pen, ally, The Libran Iniquity, Reedie, Gabi, KaliedescopeCat, Les1 and Aeryn Lavanthia
for reviewing most or all chapters!
(If we forgot anyone, send us a flamer and we'll add you to the list ;-)!)
WE LOVE YOU ALL! You were all very nice, encouraging and all in all just wonderful readers! THANK YOU! Glad you liked the story so much, and we'll try to get the sequel up as soon as possible!
Sita&T'eyla