My goal is to have this entire story published here by the weekend, so I'm posting twice today.

Reviews are better than chocolate. Keep 'em coming! And thank you. I'm so glad to see that the things I intended with this story are coming across.

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Malcolm was walking through the park, cold, chilled to bone, his wet, bulky jumper pulled down over his hands as he tried to keep them warm. He reached up to push his wet hair back from his forehead.

Zerx had sent him there to meet a contact and give him a message, but he'd been waiting in the rain for over an hour. He was getting jumpy; he needed a fix. He'd be all right for an hour or so more, but if he had to stay here waiting in this downpour, it was going to be a long hour.

Sensing someone behind him, he turned, thinking that it must finally be the contact. He blinked rapidly, stunned when he realised who it was.

Trip.

Malcolm's heart sank.

Trip stood there, dressed in civilian clothes, appraising him, and obviously not liking what he was seeing. Malcolm thought about how he must look, and raised an eyebrow, looking back at Trip. In the weeks that he'd been on Denox, Malcolm knew that his hair had grown out, and he'd lost weight - a lot of it, as his clothes were practically floating off him. It was an "occupational" hazard; the drug interfered with appetite, and he hadn't been very focused on eating lately. He was pale, too, another side effect of the drug. And he probably looked like a drowned rat, to top it off.

Malcolm crossed his arms across his chest. "How'd you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard, once I learned about this place," Trip said. He looked about him at the others in the park, relatively crowded despite the rain.

Malcolm followed Trip's gaze. Everyone there obviously, from the look of them, was using opoidu. He nodded, and with a hint of a smile, said, "It is the place to be if you're looking to score."

Trip didn't return his smile. After a moment of silence, he said, "So I kept coming here, hoping to see you."

"And you did."

Trip nodded. "Yeah, eventually." He took a step back, taking in Malcolm's bedraggled appearance. "How you doing?"

Malcolm didn't answer.

After a moment, Trip said, "Can we go someplace warm, get out of this rain?"

Malcolm shook his head, taking a step back. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Malcolm, please. I just want to talk to you."

"That's shite, Trip, and you know it. You're here to take me back."

"That's why they sent me, yes. But that's not why I'm here. I just want to...I needed..."

"To see me like this?" Malcolm replied, arms out, voice rising. "Well here I am, in all my new-found glory." He dropped his arms. "Satisfied?" he practically shouted.

Trip glanced around, seeing that all eyes were on them. He spoke in a low voice. "Come on. You look like you could use something to eat." When Malcolm didn't respond, he tried again. "Let's get out of the rain, warm up for a few minutes."

Malcolm just stood there.

Trip wiped a hand across his face, his distress cracking through his firm demeanour. "Just talk to me. Then you can come with me, or stay here - your choice."

Malcolm nodded slowly, and they started walking, stopping at the first restaurant they saw. The server gave Malcolm a pointed look as they entered. Trip ordered for them both, and the server waved them to a table near the window.

"Rude," Malcolm said, his eyes on the server.

"Well, you don't exactly look yourself, Malcolm," Trip replied.

They sat in silence for a moment, and Malcolm stared out the window, watching the rain stream down the glass, his fingers worrying the cuff of his jumper.

Trip started speaking. "You're not acting like yourself either."

"No, this is me," Malcolm said, still watching the rain fall. "Just a different me."

"Phlox analysed the drug."

Malcolm turned to Trip. "What? How?"

They paused their conversation as the server came back, placing a pastry and two hot drinks on the table. She gave one final, scathing look at Malcolm, then left.

When she was out of earshot, Trip continued. "You'd left some traces in your office." He lifted his cup and took a sip of the drink. "He thinks he can help you stop."

Malcolm frowned slightly.

Seeing the look that crossed his friend's face, Trip asked, "You do want to stop, right?

Malcolm looked down at the pastry, ripping off a piece and fiddling with it.

Trip leaned forward and took Malcolm's free hand. "Malcolm?"

Malcolm raised his eyes to meet Trip's. "I'm not sure how. It's overwhelming."

"Phlox can help."

Malcolm shook his head. "I can't go back there."

Trip waited for him to continue.

"I can't face them. After all this, I just can't."

"You can. I'll help you." Trip hesitated. "Please. We want you back." He rubbed Malcolm's hand with his fingers. "I want you back."

"But my record..."

"The captain told me that your record will show that you did this in the line of duty." He hesitated, searching Malcolm's eyes. "That was the case, right?"

"Yes," Malcolm said, very softly.

"And the shuttle, all that, the record will show that was due to the addiction. Please. You can do this."

Malcolm looked out at the rain. Maybe Trip was right. Maybe he could kick the drug, go back to his old life. He heard himself say, "All right."

Trip squeezed his hand. "Anything here you need to get before we go home?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Not really. Wait, yes, my bag." He stood. "I'll be back in ten minutes." As he tried to walk away, Trip grabbed his arm, holding him firmly.

"Nah, I'll go with you."

Malcolm looked down at Trip, seeing the suspicion in his eyes.

Trip pointed towards their table. "You eat this first, then we'll go get your bag."

Malcolm sat, and Trip released his arm. Malcolm picked up the pastry and made a show of taking a bite. Trip raised an eyebrow, but didn't smile.

"You don't trust me, do you?" Malcolm asked.

Trip replied, "Not right now, no."

Malcolm took another bite, this time sincerely. "Good. You probably shouldn't."

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