Title: Alone In Darkness

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

Rating: PG-13

AN: Thanks to Luna (you're probably right about the aliens... and maybe some questions will be answered in this chapter), angel (poor Malcolm... but don't go punching Trip! It's not his fault ;-)!!), Becca (hmmmm... maybe this chapter will explain a bit more), Dacker Spaniel (Oh no! don't cry!! They're gonna be alright!... or are they? -evil laugh-), Keran (thank you!!!), Silvia (there's nothing wrong with being a little evil ;-)... and you'll see more Trip, promise), Aeryn Lavanthia (glad you like it so much...bring on the lollipops!! ;-) ), WhtevrHpnd2Mary (tons of questions... need tons of answers! -sigh- well. maybe this chapter will provide at least some), bunsdarien (here comes more...), stage manager (well, they were already halfway down at the beginning of the scene, so... But you're probably right about T'Pol. Well, maybe she was so worried about Trip that she couldn't think straight... muahahaha. Sorry. Thank you.), skully (your reviews are gonna be the dead of us. ROFL!), Daria (more questions! well, guess at least some of them are going to be answered in this chapter), Gabi2305 (Das mit dem Reviewfenster kenne ich. Mist-technik;-)!), The Libran Iniquity (Uh-oh. Retribution. Malcolm's safe!! Look, he's all happy in his playpen snuggling up to his favourite cuddly bunny! See?? He's safe!! Now - next chapter???-g-), Exploded Pen (don't be sorry!! Poor Malcolm... he did go through quite a lot, it's time we give him a break) and Drakcir (we love to have our readers begging... harharhar. Just kidding!! Thank you.) for reviewing.

Oh, BTW, T'eyla's gonna be away the next ten days (class trip to Moskau!), so it's only going to be me (Sita) writing the horrible ANs and answering your reviews. But you'll get your up-dates regularly every two or three days, promise!!! So, enjoy Chapter 9 and - keep reviewing! ;-)!

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Chapter 9

When Malcolm woke up, the sickbay lights were dimmed, and it was night on Enterprise. It wasn't the first time his mind had swum up from the depths of unconsciousness, but on those previous occasions he'd never been fully aware of what was going on. He had realized that he was on Enterprise, in sickbay, and he'd heard people talking to him, but he hadn't understood what they were saying. After a while, he'd always drifted off again, returning to that warm dark place where he'd spent what seemed like half a lifetime.

Now, however, he realized with something akin to surprise that he didn't want to go back to sleep again. That feeling of being rested, of not being tired, was something he hadn't experienced in quite some time, but he had no idea why that would be the case. He tried to remember what had happened, why he was here in sickbay, but his mind came up blank.

Slowly turning his head, he took a good look at his surroundings for the first time, and his gaze fell on the dropper bottle hanging above him. Idly, his eyes traced the tube snaking down towards the bed and came to rest on the needle inserted in the crook of his arm. He studied it for a moment, wondering why the stuff in the drip always looked like plain old water. Maybe it was water, he mused, and the doctors only got so much fun out of poking their patients with needles and telling them to lie still that they'd invented this devious device to be able to pursue these activities at their leisure. Thinking of what Trip would say if he could hear him - "there's only one person on this ship who'd come up with such a load of horse-puckey, Malcolm" - he felt a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Tearing his gaze away from the band aid that was holding the needle in place, he noticed with mild surprise that his wrist was bandaged and that there were several healing cuts on his palm, glistening wet with some kind of gel. Suddenly, without warning, an image flashed through his mind, and his smile vanished in an instant.

-sitting on the hard floor, clenching his fist around something sharp that cuts his skin, hurting and shivering all over-

Malcolm gasped for air, turning his head to the other side, and saw that his other wrist was bandaged as well. Another image came up in his mind-

-blood pouring from the gash in his skin, warmth embracing his arm as the red liquid soaks through his uniform-

He closed his eyes, moaning softly. He didn't want to remember these things, but the images kept flooding his mind, and Malcolm had no way of protecting himself. And suddenly he saw Trip, red-faced, screaming-

-"You fuckin' son of a bitch, I'm gonna kill you!" He hears the voice and he is suffocating, hands are closing around his neck and Trip is choking him to death-

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, feeling hot tears rise behind them. He tried to block the memories and at the same time knew that he couldn't. He remembered now. Trip had tried to kill him, and there were these bandages on his wrists, bandages that could mean only one thing-

He heard steps coming nearer but didn't open his eyes, hoping that whoever it was would leave again if he pretended to be asleep. He couldn't talk to anyone now, convince them that he was fine as he always did. A moment later Malcolm felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Lieutenant?" Phlox' voice asked quietly. "Are you awake?"

Malcolm shook his head, aware of the fact that this was a ridiculous gesture. Go away, he pleaded in his head, go away. Leave me alone.

"Lieutenant." Phlox' grip became firmer. "Come on, look at me. Everything's alright."

Realizing that Phlox wouldn't go away until he complied, Malcolm reluctantly turned his head, slowly prising his eyes open to see the doctor smile down at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Malcolm only stared back at him, giving no response, and Phlox turned away to check something on the monitor above the bed, continuing to talk while he did so.

"You seem to be doing a lot better than yesterday, Lieutenant. Your cetone levels are almost back to normal, looks like we can take you off the drip in another day or so. I was able to rid your blood of the remains of the substances you-"

"Did I try to kill myself?" Malcolm interrupted, raising one bandaged hand. Phlox paused, looking back down at him, and Malcolm thought he saw something like dismay cross the doctor's features before Phlox was able to cover it up.

"Lieutenant... maybe this isn't the best time to talk about that. You should try and get some rest now-"

"Did I?" Malcolm insisted, but looking at Phlox' face he already knew the answer to his question. The doctor folded his hands, placing them on the edge of the bed.

"It seems so. You'd lost quite a lot of blood when we found you, and I had to give you a transfusion. You'll be alright, though."

Malcolm shook his head, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. "I don't remember."

"I'm sure it'll come back to you soon," Phlox said gently. "I gave you some sedatives and painkillers, they might be affecting your memory."

Remembering that last image that had flashed up in his mind, Malcolm turned his eyes back to Phlox. "What about Trip?" he asked. "Is he alright?"

Phlox hesitated. "The Commander will be fine as well," he said, but something in his voice caught Malcolm's attention. He'd already opened his mouth to ask further when Phlox again put a hand on his arm.

"I promised the Captain to notify him as soon as you're awake. If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant..."

Phlox left, pushing the white curtains back into place behind him. Malcolm heard him talking over the comm and closed his eyes, firmly telling himself that he mustn't fall to pieces now. He felt like it, he wished he could simply let the tears flow, but knew he couldn't do so. Archer was coming to talk to him, and Malcolm wasn't going to make a fool of himself by crying like a baby in front of the Captain. Biting his lower lip, he concentrated on calming down his ragged breathing and tried to get his upset feelings under control. He was not going to cry.

He heard the low hiss of the sickbay doors opening, and the muffled voices of Phlox and Archer talking at a distance. A moment later steps came closer to the bed, and the curtain was being pushed aside again. The Captain appeared beside the bed, and Malcolm took another deep breath. Don't cry, he told himself.

"Malcolm," Archer said, smiling. "Good to see you awake."

"Captain," Malcolm managed, speaking past the lump that had formed in his throat. The next moment he startled as a small bark came from below. Archer grinned, bent down and reappeared a moment later holding Porthos in his arms.

"He just wouldn't stay in my quarters," he said apologetically. "I didn't want him to start howling."

A little perplexed, Malcolm nodded, and Archer set the dog down next to him on the biobed. Sniffing and wagging his tail, Porthos settled down on the blanket and snuggled closer to Reed. Malcolm felt the dog's soft fur brush against his bare arm, and something about the animal's warm presence made his tense control waver, causing his upset feelings to surface again. In a last feeble attempt to hide his tears he turned his head away, closing his eyes, and a moment later felt Archer's hand on his shoulder.

"Malcolm," he heard him say. "It's okay."

Malcolm shook his head a little, raising a hand to wipe off the tears. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, wincing inwardly at his choked tone of voice. "I... I didn't..."

"It's okay," Archer repeated. "Don't apologize. Do you want me to come back later?"

Swallowing hard, Malcolm willed the tears to stop and tried to get a grip on himself. Bloody idiot, couldn't stop yourself from making a scene...

"That's alright, sir," he said, fighting for his voice to sound normal. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

Malcolm nodded, and Archer's hand lingered on his shoulder for another two seconds before the Captain went to get himself a chair. Feeling something warm and scratchy brush against his fingers, Malcolm glanced down and saw that Porthos was licking his hand, apparently trying to offer him comfort dog-fashion. For some reason it suddenly felt a lot easier to keep the tears at bay, and Malcolm looked back at the Captain who'd taken a seat next to the bed.

"How's Trip, sir?"

Archer's smile faded, and he averted his eyes, examining his hands. "Not so good, I'm afraid. He... he's not quite being himself."

Malcolm licked his lips, remembering the madness in Trip's eyes when he'd attacked him back in that cell. "What do you mean?"

Archer looked up, his voice sounding subdued as he spoke. "He's... very scared. He doesn't believe we're real, keeps saying all of this is some kind of trick or set-up. He won't let anybody come near him, and when you try to touch him, he... becomes violent."

Malcolm swallowed, turning his gaze back to the ceiling. "I know," he said barely audible. "Back in that place, he attacked me. He tried to kill me."

Involuntarily, his hand went up to his throat, and he heard Archer's voice, full of compassion as he continued.

"It wasn't his fault," the Captain said quietly. "After we'd gotten you out of there, we managed to download their computer archive. They documented these... tests of theirs, and from what we could reconstruct, it seems they deliberately put Trip in a situation that made him believe you were betraying him."

Malcolm closed his eyes. "I did betray him, sir," he whispered. "When... when they offered me the choice, I said I wouldn't cooperate in those tests again, even though-"

"I know." Again, Archer's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "I saw. They had everything documented. And I'm sure if Trip knew about this he'd understand. But that wasn't what I was talking about." He hesitated, and Malcolm opened his eyes again to see the Captain's face. Archer's features had hardened, angry lines forming around his mouth and eyes. "They staged some kind of set-up, making Trip believe he was escaping. They created a hologram adjusted to your looks and speech patterns, and programmed it to fake a get-away, open the cell door, steal a flitter and so on. It was all holographic, the vessel, the hangar, the landscape... I never saw that kind of technology before. When Trip was convinced he'd managed to escape, they staged a flitter crash. The hologram wouldn't let him repair the engine, telling him it - you - had sabotaged the flitter. They made Trip believe you had conspired with them to set up a false escape."

For several moments, Malcolm only stared at him, not quite able to grasp what the Captain was telling him. A hologram, a huge holographic setting, created solely for the purpose of tricking Trip into believing that his friend had betrayed him... what kind of perverted, twisted mind would it take to come up with something like this, to go through with something like this... Slowly shaking his head, Malcolm averted his eyes, unable to speak.

"They were monitoring him after the escape," Archer continued in that same quiet voice. "He went half crazy in that cell, crying, talking to people who weren't there... And then they took you back there to see what would happen."

"To see what would happen," Malcolm repeated, his voice flat and detached. Archer took his hand.

"They're gone, Malcolm," he said. "They're gone for good."

Feeling strangely weary, Malcolm shook his head. "They're not. We thought that last time, and they weren't."

Archer's voice sounded firm as he continued. "They are this time. They're gone and they won't come back. T'Pol was able to locate their building on the surface using the frequency of some fluctuations we picked up back on Eden. We found out that it was cloaked by some kind of space and time field sustained by a generator inside the complex. After we'd destroyed that generator, the field collapsed, and when we went down there, there was no one except you and Trip in that building."

Again, Malcolm shook his head. "That can't be. They went into hiding or something."

"I don't think so. After studying the data we downloaded from their computer, T'Pol came up with the theory that they were beings existing outside the normal space and time continuum-"

Malcolm frowned at him. "I don't understand."

Archer sighed. "I know it sounds kind of far-fetched, but T'Pol assured me there is lots of evidence supporting her theory. She said these aliens weren't part of our normal universe, but came from a place beyond space time, and were able to exist only within that space and time field they'd generated. As soon as we'd destroyed that field, they were thrown back to wherever they came from. They're gone."

Malcolm blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what Archer was telling him. Under normal circumstances, he'd have a hard time believing something like this, but remembering these tall robed figures that spoke with raspy hollow voices, radiating an eerie feeling of superiority, he found himself feeling inclined to believe T'Pol's theory. And actually he realized that he didn't really care. He didn't care where they'd come from, he didn't care what they'd been and where they were now, but was content with the knowledge that they were gone. That they wouldn't come back, ever.

"Malcolm." Hearing Archer's voice, he turned his head. The Captain was looking at him with a mixture of concern and sympathy on his face. "I'm sorry; maybe I should've waited to tell you all of this, but I thought it was better for you to know."

Closing his eyes, Malcolm swallowed. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. Archer gently tightened his grip on Malcolm's hand.

"Why?"

Again, Malcolm felt a lump forming in his throat, and firmly told himself to get a grip. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. "I didn't want that. I... I didn't mean to do it..."

"I know you didn't," Archer said quietly. "And it's okay. Don't go blaming yourself for what happened. No one can say how they would react in a situation like the one you were in. It wasn't your fault."

Malcolm knew this wasn't true; he was to blame. But there was no use arguing with Archer, and so he simply nodded, letting out a sigh. Archer got up.

"I'm going to get Dr. Phlox so he can give you something that will help you sleep."

Briefly, Malcolm considered protesting, but when he opened his mouth Archer had already disappeared behind the curtains. Well, never mind; maybe sleeping a little wasn't such a bad idea. He was kind of tired, after all. Absentmindedly, he raised a hand to scratch Porthos who was still curled up in the crook of his arm. A minute later the curtains parted again, and Phlox appeared, hypospray in hand. As the doctor looked at the monitor above the bed, his face displayed slight annoyance.

"About time you got some rest, Lieutenant," he said, and Malcolm noted with mild astonishment that the doctor didn't seem to mind at all a dog lying on his sickbay blankets. The unpleasant sensation of the cold hypospray against his neck made him grimace, and only a moment later the world dissolved as his eyes began to droop. Sleep came easily and quickly, and Malcolm slipped away into slumber without wasting one more thought on what he'd been told in that last half an hour.

-###-

"He's asleep now."

Archer turned around to see Phlox emerge from behind the white curtains that hid Malcolm's bed from view.

"Talking to you left him quite exhausted," the doctor continued, putting the empty hypospray down on the counter. "But on the whole he seems to be doing a lot better. I was glad to see him lucid enough to follow a conversation." Phlox turned around to face Archer, sitting down on the edge of the counter. "How did he take what you told him?"

Sighing, Archer lowered himself onto a nearby chair. "As well as can be expected," he said, resting his elbows on his knees. "He didn't say much and still seemed a little out of it. I don't know if he was getting everything I told him. I got the impression he's quite upset about his... suicide attempt."

"That's a natural reaction, Captain. I guess it will take him quite some time to come to terms with what has happened." Phlox threw a look back at the curtains. "I saw you brought Porthos with you."

Archer smiled a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I thought it might make Malcolm feel a little better. I mean... you know what happened. There is not much to say, is there, and in my experience dogs make pretty good comforters."

Phlox smiled as well. "Good thing Mr. Reed is not allergic to canines, hm?" Growing serious again, Phlox picked up a padd from the counter. "I've been looking through these protocols you gave me. They are quite informative concerning Mr. Reed's and the Commander's condition, but still, I'm afraid I don't really know what to do to help Mr. Tucker. I can give him medication to fight the paranoia, but I wouldn't advise keeping him sedated over a greater period of time. If his condition doesn't change we will have no choice but bringing him back to Earth where he can receive intensified psychiatric treatment. I'm sorry, Captain."

Archer didn't move, staring down at his hands. Ever since he'd sat down at his desk last night to go through these protocols, there was that hard knot of anger sitting in the pit of his stomach, growing with every time he visited sickbay to receive more bad news and have Phlox look at him with that expression of helplessness on his face. The scenes he'd forced himself to witness still burned in his mind, and he just couldn't forget the image of Trip kneeling on the floor of that cell, laughing madly and crying at the same time, or Malcolm sitting in the corner, his face expressionless as he raised the shard to slit his wrists. And there had been those protocols, those cold scientific comments that made it all seem even more cruel and perverted. He remembered how Hoshi had come to his room last night, on the brink of tears, all but throwing her padds at his feet, saying she wasn't going to translate any more of these horrible lab reports no matter how important the information might be to Starfleet. Neither she nor T'Pol had been able to come up with any explanation for why the protocols were all in different alien languages, but it was clear that each file was written in the language of the victim. The "Subject". And since even the Vulcan science officer had refused to spend more time than absolutely necessary studying these reports, this mystery would very likely remain unsolved in the future as well.

"Captain?" he heard Phlox' voice and looked up, realizing that he'd been brooding. Again. Getting to his feet, he walked over to the counter and stopped in front of a monitor that showed the interior of the decon chamber. Staring at the image of the blue lit room on the screen, Archer suddenly felt disgusted with himself. Here they were, locking Trip up in a room that looked almost like that cell back in the building, observing him like he was only some kind of lab rat, recording his every move with the surveillance camera. It wasn't right.

"Can't we at least bring him to his own quarters, doc?" Archer asked, half-turning to look at Phlox. Regretfully, the doctor shook his head, coming over to stand beside him.

"I'm afraid not, Captain. The Commander is not only a danger to other people, he is also a danger to himself. It would be too much of a risk to let him stay in a room that provides so many means of hurting oneself. And, as I said, I can't keep him sedated all the time."

They both looked back at the screen where Trip was still sitting curled up against the wall opposite to the cot they had set up for him, again rocking back and forth in that slow, absentminded way. It hurt Archer's very soul to look at this picture of misery, but he didn't turn away. Doing so would be like abandoning Trip, like giving up on him, and Archer knew he wasn't going to do that. However hard it might become.

"Captain." He felt a hand on his arm and turned to look at Phlox' concerned face. "Why don't you go get some rest. It's the middle of the night, and I'm sure you could use some sleep."

Archer was already about to shake his head when he realized that Phlox was right. He knew he probably wouldn't be able to go to sleep, but overtiring himself by deliberately staying awake wasn't going to help anyone. Slowly, he turned away from the screen, meeting Phlox' eyes. "If there are any changes I want to be notified immediately."

Phlox nodded. "Of course, Captain."

Archer made his way to the sickbay doors, and suddenly felt almost relieved at getting out of here. Even though it made him feel guilty, he was glad to have some time for himself to sort out his thoughts, to escape all of this for now. Even if it was only for a short time.

TBC...

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