Thank you all so much for your comments.

x-x

Walking up to the house with Trip beside him, Malcolm saw the place through new eyes, as he thought Trip must be seeing it: the dirty alley, the porch stacked with refuse, the filthy windows with ripped fabric hanging loosely, blocking the interior view. He turned to Trip. "You should probably wait outside." Trip shook his head, and Malcolm replied with a half-smile. "You won't like this."

He opened the door and lead Trip inside, towards his room. As they passed an open door, he watched as Trip noticed a woman through the doorway, sitting on the floor, shooting opoidu between her toes. Trip flinched and turned away, hissing in a breath, and she looked up expressionlessly.

They entered Malcolm's room and he bent down, tossing things into his bag, watching his friend out of the corner of his eye. As Trip walked towards the window and peered out, Malcolm slipped the silver case and bag of brown powder into his sack, tucking them under his other items. Standing and slinging the bag over his shoulder, he said, "There's someone I'd like to say goodbye to, if that's all right."

x-x

Malcolm knocked on the door of Shayna's flat, smiling as it opened to reveal her. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Shayna smiled. "My goodness." She turned to Trip. "You here to take him home?"

"Yes, ma'am," Trip replied.

"Good." She turned back to Malcolm. "You get clean, you're more than welcome to come back." She leant over and whispered in his ear. "You get well now." Then she kissed his cheek.

Malcolm whispered. "Thank you, for everything."

Shayna nodded, her eyes soft, and she closed the door.

As Malcolm and Trip walked down the stairs, Trip asked, "How do you know her?"

Malcolm smiled. "She and her husband found me after one particularly bad night while I was on that mission. I was sleeping on some church steps, and they'd come to set up for the morning's service. They run a treatment program..."

Trip stopped walking. "Why didn't you join?"

Malcolm turned to him. "I was on the mission. I wasn't ready."

Trip looked at him carefully. "Are you ready now?"

"I think so."

x-x

Malcolm stared down at his knees, his legs dangling off the sickbay bed. He grasped the edge of the bed with his hands as he tried to control the shaking. He was going to be in trouble if he didn't get a fix soon. The headache was already starting.

He heard the door open and lifted his head slowly, turning to see Captain Archer striding across sickbay towards him.

"Lieutenant," Archer said briskly.

"Captain," Malcolm replied, trying hard to focus on the man, rather than his building need for the drug.

"There are some questions I need to ask."

Malcolm nodded. He could tell that the captain was angry. Furious, actually. But he wasn't sure that he cared. The man could ask whatever questions he wanted. He doubted that Archer trusted him enough to believe his answers.

"You went undercover in early January," Archer said, peering down at the padd in his hand. "And discovered information about this Zerx person a week later. According to what you'd told me, you didn't actually meet with Zerx and the other the drug runners until February." He lowered the device. "And yet you told Trip that you started taking opoidu within a week of your arrival on Denox."

"I was trying to pass as a junkie, and I needed to be prepared," Malcolm said forcefully.

"You didn't have to actually use the drugs," Archer said.

Malcolm felt himself trembling, and he wasn't sure if it was the need for the drug, or his own anger. "If I was faking, they would have known."

"You didn't tell anyone."

"You told me to do whatever I had to do," Malcolm shouted. He lowered his voice, then said with venom, "Got the information we needed, didn't I?"

Archer nodded crisply, fury still burning in his eyes.

"Captain, please leave." Malcolm turned to see Phlox standing nearby, quite obviously angry. "This patient is not ready for questioning."

Archer turned and left without another word.

x-x

"He needed to be sure that this really was job related, Malcolm," Trip said from his seat beside Malcolm's biobed.

"He was quite angry," Malcolm replied, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, one foot twitching nervously.

"You know him. He'll get over it. He's just angry because he's upset." When Malcolm didn't respond, Trip said, "No one blames you."

"The captain certainly seemed to be accusing me of something." Malcolm turned as Phlox passed nearby. "I'd like to stay in my own room tonight."

Phlox stopped and turned to his patient. "It's your first night here. That is not a good idea."

Malcolm hopped down from the bed. "Please. I can't sleep here." He glanced around the room restlessly. "It's bad enough when I'm normal, but right now..."

"I could administer a sedative."

Malcolm put both hands up in defence, his heart pounding. "No, no more drugs," he said frantically. He took a step back.

"You should not be alone," said the Doctor.

"I'll stay with him," Trip said.

Phlox turned to Trip. "Are you certain?"

Trip nodded.

Phlox turned back to Malcolm. "For tonight only. I'll expect you back here at 08:00 hours."

x-x

Malcolm stared at himself in his lavatory mirror. He looked rough. Thinner, certainly. Older, perhaps. He leant down and splashed his face with water, then grabbed a towel. He took a deep sniff of the towel and smiled. One good thing about being back: clean laundry.

He bent as a spasm hit, one hand propped against the edge of the sink. He took several slow, deep breaths, and waited for the pain to pass. Once it did, he straightened and glanced into the mirror again. He threw the towel against his reflection in disgust, and triggered the door.

He waved Trip into the lav as he stepped out into his room. After the door closed behind his friend, Malcolm moved to his bed and slid the bag out from under it. He reached inside and pulled out his silver case. Working quickly, he poured some of the powder into the vial, warming it until it liquefied. Then he filled his syringe half-full. He pushed up his sleeve, then paused, listening as Trip ran water in the lav. Malcolm stared at the syringe, the brown liquid moving slightly as his hand shook.

He'd betrayed his captain, his ship, and his crew. Worse, he'd betrayed his friends. His gaze moved to the lavatory door. And Trip. Worst of all, what he'd done - what he was about to do - to Trip.

Malcolm moved the needle away and hunched forward. He was disgusting. How had he lost control so quickly?

But why try to fight it now? It was too late, and it wasn't worth the struggle. He straightened. There was only one person to blame this on. He smiled coldly. Easy enough to fix.

Malcolm again pierced the top of the vial with his needle, this time filling it. He smiled. With a firm hand, he stuck it into his vein and released the plunger.

He saw Trip enter the room talking, then the look of shock on his friend's face as the scene registered.

Malcolm managed to get out, "Sorry," before the blackness rushed in.

x-x