Title: Alone In Darkness

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

Rating: PG-13

AN: Thanks to Luna (another emotional one... hope you'll like it), KaliedescopeCat (no suicidals anymore! we had enough of those... ;) ), Phaser Lady (no Hoshi, sorry. But the Brit will get sense knocked into him anyway - or maybe not... ;) ), WhtevrHpnd2Mary (thank you so much for this wonderful review! We were both very happy about what you wrote - and of course we'd like to chat with you via e-mail. We'd just need you adress... :) ), The Libran Iniquity (we did take our time... we're evil, don't forget -g-), Rinne (here comes...), Gabi2305 (wird er gehen? hmm... schweeere Frage - vor allem, da du mit deinem letzten Statement durchaus recht hast -g-... und zum zweiten: DANKE :) ), Drakcir (also thanks to you for reviewing Ladies On Top :) ), Dacker Spaniel (officially, Malcolm actually can resign - but there'll be a lot of unhappy fanfic writers if he does... sniff ;) ), jazri (here's the next chapter for you :) ), Aeryn Lavanthia (thanks for the compliment :) ), Les1 (computer problems are one of the most annyoing things on Earth and in space - says I, at least ;). Hope you were able to get yours fixed!) and Maraschino (read and find out - now! AN's almost over! ;) ) for reviewing.

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Chapter 14

Taking a deep breath, Trip pressed the door chime to Malcolm's quarters.

Half an hour ago, Jon had come to his quarters, looking troubled, and when Trip had persisted, Archer had eventually told him about Malcolm's resignation. Jon had said that in a way he'd been expecting something like that, but to Trip the news had come as a shock. It was strange, come to think of it, but he had never considered the possibility of leaving, not for himself and not for Malcolm, either.

After Jon had left, Trip had been sitting on his bed for about five minutes, trying to bring the thoughts and emotions swirling through his mind back under control. Hearing these news had thrown him off track. He'd been thinking he still had time left, time to deal with his own feelings before he tried to find the strength to go and talk to Malcolm. All the time in the world, so to speak. But obviously he wasn't going to have that time; Malcolm had decided to resign and he would be leaving soon. As soon as the next Vulcan vessel came within comm range.

He waited, his hand hovering over the door opener, and felt nervousness building a hard knot in his stomach. After a few more seconds of silence Trip pulled his hand back, turning away. Maybe it was best-

"Come," a muffled voice said from inside, making him jump. Trip swallowed, pausing a moment before he pushed the panel to open the door. The instant it slid aside Trip realized that the last time he'd actually seen Malcolm had been back in that place, in that cell. When he'd...

Trip clenched his jaw, taking a step into the room. Malcolm was sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing civilian clothing and no socks. Noticing that, Trip felt surprise somewhere at the back of his mind; he'd never seen Malcolm go barefoot when he was off-duty, not even in his own quarters. When he entered, Reed looked up from the book he'd been reading, and Trip saw his eyes widen fractionally as Malcolm realized who his visitor was.

Trip cleared his throat, producing an awkward smile. "Mind if I come in?"

The instant the words left his mouth he realized that he already was inside the room, and immediately he felt stupid. Reed put his book down, and even though he didn't smile, his voice sounded level enough as he spoke.

"Please, take a seat."

Feeling rather self-conscious, Trip perched on the edge of the desk chair, briefly letting his eyes wander over the room. Reed's quarters were as neat as always, and even the covers of his bunk were completely uncreased despite the fact that Malcolm was sitting on them. Only the tidy stacks of padds with security reports on his desk were missing.

Looking back at Malcolm, Trip saw him meticulously marking his place in the book, and for a brief, almost frantic moment considered asking him what he was reading. This whole situation was so unbearably awkward, so absurd, and Trip wanted to say something to make it seem a little more normal. Malcolm raised his head again, and getting a good look at Reed's face for the first time since he'd entered the room, Trip momentarily forgot all about his unease. Malcolm's features were drawn, almost gaunt, and Trip noticed dark, bruise-like smudges under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping for a week.

"Are you feelin' okay?" Trip asked, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Malcolm averted his gaze and quickly crossed his arms in front of his chest, a gesture that surprised Trip. Only a moment later he realized that Malcolm was obviously trying to hide his bandaged wrists, and he bit the inside of his lip. This was not going to be easy.

"I'm... okay," Reed said, still not looking at him. Trip knew that under normal circumstances Malcolm would have said his usual "I'm fine", daring Trip to tease him about it, and he would have reacted by rolling his eyes and muttering something about stubborn, pig-headed Brits. But that was the past. Now Trip only studied Malcolm for another worried moment, then looked down and folded his hands in his lap without pursuing the subject any further.

The silence between them stretched, and Trip felt increasingly uncomfortable. Malcolm still had his arms crossed, pressing them against his chest, and Trip saw the muscles in his jaw working. He didn't give the impression of being angry, or resentful, though. To Trip he only looked tense, as if he had withdrawn behind his defense barriers and was determined not to let anyone in. After a few more oppressing minutes of non-conversation, Trip heaved a sigh.

"Well, shit," he said. Malcolm raised his head in an almost involuntary way and to Trip's utter astonishment the corner of Reed's mouth twitched slightly.

"I agree," he said. "'Shit' does cover it pretty well."

Trip felt a small smile spread on his face, and found that suddenly it was a little easier to speak the words he'd been planning to say.

"Look Malcolm," he said, shifting a little on the seat, "I... actually I came here to apologize. I know it doesn't change anythin' about what I did, and I'll understand if you jus' kick me out right here and now, but... I jus' wanted to say, I'm terribly sorry for what happened back there. For what I've done."

For a brief moment the silence returned.

"Trip..." Malcolm's voice sounded very quiet as he spoke up again, and Trip forced himself to meet Reed's eyes. They held no accusation, only confusion and insecurity. "I... to be honest, I don't really know what to say. I'm not angry at you and I'm certainly not going to kick you out, but I don't know if I can talk about that at the moment. I... it's... sometimes I feel it's just too much..."

He trailed off, and Trip nodded quietly. Malcolm hadn't really accepted his apology, but the simple fact that Reed was talking to him at all brought immense relief. Trip hadn't really been expecting to stay in here for more than a few minutes, and seeing that Malcolm wasn't going to tell him to leave was more than he had dared to hope for.

"I understand," he offered, and Malcolm visibly relaxed, unfolding his arms and resting his hands in his lap. Involuntarily, Trip's gaze shifted to the white gauze bandages around Malcolm's wrists, and although he quickly turned away when Malcolm lifted his eyes, he knew that Reed hadn't missed his look.

"I don't remember doing it," Malcolm said very quietly. It startled Trip; he hadn't expected Malcolm to say anything about that, let alone bring up the topic himself. Jon had told him that except for the first time when he'd woken up in sickbay Reed had never talked about his suicide attempt. And that he was blaming himself.

"It wasn't your fault," Trip said, wincing at how meaningless that statement sounded. People kept telling him none of this was his fault, and had he ever believed them?

"And I'm sorry, Malcolm. I'm so sorry I made you do this, and I'm sorry I ever believed you had turned against me. I... I should've known. It's my fault-"

"It's not," Malcolm said, and there was something to his voice that made Trip fall silent immediately. "It was suicide. I tried to kill myself. Nobody made me do it but myself."

He said it with a bitterness Trip had never heard before in his tone. Malcolm often blamed himself for things he couldn't really have changed anything about, but Trip had never gotten the impression that he really hated himself for any of these matters. Now, however, it was obvious in the way he stared down at those bandages, pressing his lips together in a thin line, that Malcolm was feeling utter contempt for himself. A contempt so overwhelming that it drowned every other emotion; anger at those who had hurt him, relief at being alive, anything.

"That's not true, Malcolm," Trip said, raising his voice a little to ensure that Malcolm listened. He got up and started to pace as he sought words to express what he wanted to say. "Think about it. Think about how it was. Two people are bein' abducted, abducted by the same people who kidnapped and tortured them before. They're bein' separated, and neither of them knows what's happenin' to the other one. So after the interrogation one of these guys sits in his cell, all alone, and probably scared to death. They keep givin' him drugs to keep him awake, and he goes half mad with sleep deprivation, wishin' it was all over-"

"Trip-" Malcolm interrupted, but Trip held up a hand.

"Wait. Let me finish. So after a while they take him back to the other cell, and I guess he's quite relieved to see the other guy again. It's no fun bein' alone in that place. But when he's back in that cell, the other guy acts completely insane, accusin' him of bein' a traitor. He... he even attacks him, tries to kill him. Later, when he wakes up, he's all alone again, and he has no idea what's goin' on. He knows they're goin' to use him for more tests, he knows that there is little chance of ever gettin' away from there again, and besides he can't think straight anyway, bein' pumped full of their drugs. And now that guy, actin' on a sudden impulse, grabs the first sharp object he can get hold of and slits his wrists. Maybe he didn't even want to kill himself. Maybe he just did it."

Trip stopped in his tracks, looking back at Malcolm. Reed had clenched his hands together in his lap and stared down at them, not moving. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his breathing going fast, and Trip noticed that his shoulders were trembling.

"Malcolm," he said quietly. "Tell me, do you really blame that guy?"

Reed didn't answer, the shaking of his shoulders getting harder, and Trip hesitated only a short moment. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed next to Malcolm, taking him by the shoulders.

"Do you, Malcolm?" he asked again, and this time Reed raised his head. Tears were spilling down his cheeks, and his voice sounded choked and hoarse as he spoke.

"I don't know...no, but-"

Trip shook his head, pulling Malcolm into a hug. First, he felt him stiffen, and was already about to let him go when the crumbling dam broke away and Malcolm relaxed against him, burying his face in Trip's shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably.

"No but," Trip said. "No but. You are not to blame. It was an extreme situation you were in, and you weren't really in control of your actions. Don't go thinkin' you meant to do it, 'cause you didn't. I know you didn't."

He felt a tremor run through Malcolm's body as Reed heaved another sob. Trip realized that there was nothing more to say, and so he simply sat there, holding Malcolm while the Lieutenant gave in to the tears he'd been holding in for so long.

It was strange. Here he was, comforting the man he'd come to apologize to, whom he'd expected to hate him for the rest of his life. Malcolm indeed seemed ready to forgive him, and even though Trip could barely believe it, he felt glad and grateful for it. Maybe this was going to work out alright, after all.

They sat there for quite a while until Malcolm's sobs subsided, and Trip felt him stir in his arms. Carefully he let go of him, and Reed sat back, raising a hand to wipe his eyes. There was a moment's silence, then Malcolm looked up again, his gaze shifting to Trip's shoulder.

"I got you all wet," he said, and there was something so melancholic to his tone that it startled a small laugh out of Trip.

"I'll live," he said, and the ghost of a smile crossed Reed's face for a fleeting second before he furtively wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Sorry."

"That's okay," Trip said, rising to get a box of kleenex from the desk. Handing it to Reed, he leaned back against the desk and watched Malcolm blow his nose. Reed sniffed, stuffing the kleenex into his pocket, then raised his eyes again.

"No, really," he said. "I didn't mean to fall to pieces like that. I... I guess it just had to come out at some point." Again, that half-smile flitted across his face. "Looks like you were the unlucky person to be around when it did."

Trip shook his head. "It's no problem, Malcolm. I'm glad you're talkin' to me about it. Keepin' it all inside is not healthy."

"Guess it's not."

There was a moment's silence, and Trip watched as Reed began to absentmindedly straighten the covers, smoothing out creases that weren't there. After a while, Malcolm raised his eyes.

"I think I have to apologize to Hoshi," he said, and Trip raised his eyebrows.

"Why's that?"

Malcolm didn't answer immediately, studying his hands. "These last few days, she always came to see me," he said then. "At least twice a day. Bringing me food and everything. She tried to get me to talk about... all of this, but... I just couldn't. It must have seemed to her as if I was being deliberately rude."

"I'm sure she knows you weren't bein' rude," Trip said. "I think she knows that simply stoppin' by once in a while can help a lot. She probably didn't expect you to talk much."

Reed sighed. "Still. I could have pulled myself together. I bet they're all thinking I'm only out for pity or something, the way I've been acting..." Reed tightened his grip on the covers. "I even started blubbering when the Captain came to see me back in sickbay."

"Malcolm, look..." Trip trailed off, starting to pace again. It hurt to hear the self-contempt in Reed's voice as he talked about these things. Malcolm had always been that way, had never been able to simply accept any weakness on his part, thinking he was only making himself a burden to other people by letting them in on his life. Being troubled or sad, he always tried to deal with his problems on his own, hardly accepting any offered help, let alone asking for it.

Trip turned around. "You need to stop doin' this to yourself. People don't expect you to get over this just like that. It's okay that you need time. Everybody would. I do too. When the Cap'n came to see me a few days ago, I also started cryin' on his shoulder. I couldn't help it. It's nothin' to be ashamed of."

Malcolm's eyes were still lowered, his fingers tugging at the covers. "I... somehow I just can't forget about it. It's always there, you know? Even when I'm sleeping, I'm dreaming about it. I'm back in that cell, they're there, it's all happening all over again..."

Malcolm's voice had dropped to a whisper, and Trip had trouble understanding the last few words. Crossing the short distance between them, Trip sat back down on the bed next to Reed. Malcolm's hands were still twisting the covers.

"Of course you're thinkin' about it," Trip said quietly. "And of course you're dreamin'. I guess those dreams won't go away for quite some time. But it's no use fightin' these feelings, or bein' ashamed of them. You have to accept it as somethin' that happened to you, that you couldn't change anything about. Don't force yourself to forget about it. Just try to get up in the mornin' an' live through another day without makin' it harder on yourself than it already is."

Malcolm's voice was still very quiet as he spoke. "That's a damn hard thing to do."

Trip nodded. "I know it is. But you can do this, I know you can."

"I'm not so sure," Reed said, letting go of the covers and drawing his knees to his chest. "Sometimes I feel like I'm losing control, you know? Like the time I pulled out the needle."

At these words, Trip flinched, but fortunately Reed didn't notice his reaction, continuing in that same quiet voice.

"Or the time I bit my thumb. I don't even really remember doing these things, and I certainly didn't do them on purpose. Or maybe I did. I don't know."

Trip took a deep breath. Only then did he notice the band aid on Malcolm's right thumb and the red scratches on the back of his hand that looked as if someone had drawn their fingernails across the skin with violent force.

"Malcolm," he began. "I... I think I know what you mean. I don't know if anyone told you, but... I lost control a lot worse than that. Hell, I practically went crazy back on that planet. They... they had to lock me up in decon because I attacked everyone who tried to come near me." Trip swallowed past a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. The mental pictures and memories resurfacing in his mind were still very painful, and Trip was not sure he would be able to keep his emotions in check. But he couldn't afford to fall to pieces now, couldn't burden Malcolm with his own, tangled-up feelings. Not now. He owed him that much. Taking a deep breath, Trip continued. "It's a terrible feelin', but it's not forever. You can get over it. And it's a lot easier to do so if you accept people's help." Reed didn't answer, and Trip continued quietly, "And the people on this ship want to help. They're your friends. I'm your friend. And we don't want you to leave."

At these words Malcolm briefly raised his eyes. "The Captain told you I resigned?"

"He did," Trip said. "Gave me quite a shock, to be honest."

Again, Reed didn't say anything, only staring down at his abused hands which were tightly clenched together. When the silence began to stretch, Trip spoke up again.

"Malcolm," he said. "Why do you want to leave?"

For a long time, Malcolm gave no response, and when Trip was already about to repeat his question he said, "I can't stay here."

Trip waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "Why?" Trip asked quietly.

Reed slightly shook his head. "I don't know. It's not that I want to leave. But... I see no other possibility. I can't stay here."

Trip studied him for a moment, noticing Malcolm's hunched up shoulders and the way Reed kept biting his lower lip. Realizing he was staring, Trip quickly lowered his gaze.

"Where're you plannin' to go?"

Malcolm gave no answer, and Trip raised his head again. Reed met his gaze, and Trip saw the confusion and helplessness in his eyes. It hardly fit the meticulous way Reed usually planned out things, but Trip got the impression that Malcolm had given no thought to that subject at all.

"I..." Malcolm hesitated. "Maybe I'll go back to San Francisco. They always need teachers at the Academy."

Trip nodded slowly. It didn't sound as if Malcolm was very happy at that prospect, but Trip decided not to comment. He couldn't imagine Malcolm as a teacher at the Academy, and he didn't believe Reed would enjoy a desk job where you started at nine and left at five, but there was no need to tell him so. He seemed to know it very well himself.

"You said you don't want to leave," Trip said, hoping his persistence wouldn't cause Malcolm to clam up. "I still don't really understand why you feel you have to."

Reed let out a sigh, again beginning to fiddle with the covers. "I can't really explain it, Trip. It's just that... all the time, I somehow feel like I'm stuck. Heading down a dead-end street, you know? It just feels to me like I'm totally changed. All the things on Enterprise, my work, my department... somehow I can't bring myself to care anymore. It's... it's strange, but sometimes I feel like sleeping all day long, so I don't have to think about... anything. Everything on this ship reminds me of... of what happened, and I need to get away from it."

Reed's hands were gripping the covers so hard his knuckles turned white, and he kept his gaze lowered, not meeting Trip's eyes. Trip hesitated. He knew exactly what question he'd like to ask, but it seemed a little cruel, slapping it right in Malcolm's face. But maybe that was just what he needed, something that shook him up so hard that he finally admitted what the real problem was.

"And what about the people on this ship?" Trip asked quietly. "Don't you care about them anymore, either?"

Reed's face didn't change, but all the same Trip could see the wall come down in his eyes.

"Maybe it would be better if you left now," he said, and it almost hurt Trip to hear how he tried to sound haughty and failed miserably. His statement sounded more like a plea than anything else.

Trip shook his head. "No, I don't think it would. Not before you answered my question."

"I said leave." Now there was a tense anger to Reed's voice, and Trip bit his lip. For a moment he considered actually doing what Malcolm said, but then decided against it. They didn't have time for that.

"No," he said simply. This time Reed did look at him, and his expression was so angry that at first Trip didn't even notice the tears pooling in his eyes.

"What? What do you want me to say? Of course I do, of course I care about the people on this ship, but I can't stay here! Do you think that decision was an easy one to make? Do you think I'm happy at the prospect of leaving, of going aboard that Vulcan ship and flying back to Earth where I have no idea what I'm going to do? I told you, I don't want to leave, but it's the only possibility I see. I thought it through, dozens of times, and I always came up with the same two possibilities. Either go away or kill myself. And no matter what some people think, I don't want to act on that second possibility. So can't you see that I don't have any choice?" Now Malcolm was crying, and he averted his eyes, wiping off the tears in an angry movement. "And I just can't stop crying about the whole fucked-up business either!"

In any other situation, the statement would have sounded kind of funny or at least piteous, but Malcolm said it with such fury and despair in his voice that Trip actually startled.

"Malcolm..." he began, then trailed off again. Reed was clearly not listening, wrenching the covers between his fingers so that they were almost ripped apart and staring at the wall while tears kept running down his cheeks. Trip felt unable to speak. He knew Malcolm hadn't been lying when he'd said he'd kill himself. The signs were clear enough - the bitten thumb, the removed hypodermic needle and the deep scratches on the back of his hand spoke unmistakably of the anger and hatred Reed had buried in his soul. And they also showed just how much of that hatred was directed against himself. Malcolm couldn't forgive himself for his suicide attempt, and yet he was ready to do the same thing again, simply because he saw no other way. And it was tearing him apart.

Almost five minutes passed before Trip spoke up again. "What about the third possibility, Malcolm?"

Trip hadn't expected it, but Reed turned his head to look at him. "What?"

"The third possibility," Trip said. "You said there were two possibilities, either goin' away or killin' yourself. I think there is a third one."

Malcolm stared at him. "And what would that be?" he asked hoarsely. Carefully reaching out, Trip put a hand on his shoulder. Reed didn't shake him off.

"You could try and accept help," Trip said quietly. "Don't think you have to do it all on your own. There are people who can help you, who want to help you. And they're here on this ship, not back on Earth. No one can deal with that kind of thing completely on his own, it's impossible. Try to take it slow. If you don't feel up to workin' in the Armoury right now, then don't. If you feel like sleepin', then sleep, and if you feel like cryin', then don't hold it in. And most important, if you feel like talkin', talk. There're people here who'll listen, and they won't think badly of you or laugh at you. Try to be a little less hard on yourself, and give it time."

Reed raised his eyes, and again they were filled with tears, but the closed-up, angry look in them was gone. Trip tightened his grip on Malcolm's shoulder.

"Ever considered this possibility?"

Reed shook his head, the tears spilling over, and without thinking about it, Trip pulled him into a hug again, holding him as he cried. This time Reed didn't even try to hold back the sobs, and Trip realized that this was the first time Malcolm really let himself go about the whole thing. Before, he'd still been pulling himself together, not allowing himself to take real comfort from a friend, but now that hesitation was gone. Reed was crying and crying, and the intensity of his feelings told Trip that he'd listened to him. Malcolm was not going to leave.

And while he held his friend, Trip felt relieved not only for Malcolm but also for himself. It wasn't like Malcolm was the only one who had ever considered the second possibility.

TBC...

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