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Malcolm felt cloudy, dull with the effects of the painkillers and his injuries from the fall. He shifted in the bed and winced as his vision swam. He tried to focus on one of Phlox's cages across the room, and eventually, his head settled. "Right," he muttered, sitting carefully, then swinging his legs off the side of the biobed. He paused a moment, closing his eyes to regain his equilibrium.

He heard someone step in front of him and opened his eyes to see Hoshi there, frowning.

"What are you doing, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Malcolm looked at her, about to respond when he felt a sudden resurgence of his nausea, and simply groaned instead. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing.

"Um, maybe you should lie down," she said. "You don't look so good."

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he nodded, allowing her to help him settle against the pillow. After a moment, his eyes still closed, he was able to ask, "How's Trip?" When Hoshi didn't answer, he opened his eyes and saw her standing there. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"He was released day-before-yesterday," she said, looking uncomfortable.

"So what's wrong?" he asked, his suspicion increasing.

Hoshi shifted, concern marring her features. "I don't want to upset you."

"Just tell me," he said impatiently.

"He was meeting with some engineers on Jupiter station yesterday. He didn't come back." She looked away.

"What? What happened?"

Hoshi returned her gaze to his, her eyes showing her confusion. "He took off, disappeared. From what we can tell, he did it on purpose. He's AWOL," she said in amazement. "The Captain's furious."

"Has he filed a report yet?"

She shook her head. "No. But if Trip doesn't contact us, or show up soon..."

Malcolm nodded, closing his eyes against the headache. "Hoshi, I need to speak with the Captain."

"Now's not a very good time..."

"I may know how to find him," he said quietly.

x-x

Malcolm cradled the glass of beer between his hands, sliding it slightly in the condensation that had formed on the dark table. He kept looking up from it and towards the door, the one well-lit area in the dark bar, which was otherwise illuminated solely by means of the small, orange, pumpkin-shaped lights flickering around him in the darkness.

The lights were the nicest thing about the place, he thought as he took in the otherwise forgettable décor. It was a tiny shack of a place, sad despite its gaudy decorations; giving off a sort of a sleezy Halloween vibe. The room was basically empty, it being too early for a crowd yet. Still, best the bar was dark and empty, he thought. His head still hurt despite Phlox's drugs, and he wasn't sure how he would have coped if the pub had been more crowded and loud. And he knew he looked rough; best not to be seen.

And anyway, he wasn't here to socialise.

Malcolm nursed his beer, terrible stuff, cheap and extremely American. He took a small sip then glanced up as the door opened. He locked eyes with the person entering: Trip.

Trip raised one single eyebrow, acknowledging him, then turned to the bar, holding up two fingers. After a moment, he walked to Malcolm's table with two beers in dark brown bottles.

"Hey," he said, sitting in the chair across from Malcolm and sliding one bottle towards his friend. "Nice clothes."

Malcolm cast a glance down at his outfit: black jeans and a jumper, then back to Trip. "And yours as well."

Trip shrugged, holding out one arm to display his loud shirt to its full potential. "Felt I had to dress for the occasion." Dropping his arm, he looked carefully at Malcolm. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"Phlox let you out?"

Malcolm nodded, taking a careful drink. "I didn't leave him much choice."

"I actually figured I might see you here." Trip took a sip from his bottle. "Archer send you?"

"I asked to come."

"He mad?"

"Well, you did go AWOL."

"Not precisely," Trip replied. "I requested leave. I just left before it came through."

Malcolm shook his head. "The Captain is quite angry."

"I can imagine," Trip said, leaning back in his chair. "But what could I say? 'I'm taking leave to go to New Orleans to return some property that I stole back when I'd dropped out of school and was living there, doped to the gills and stealing to support my evil ways?'" He looked down at his bottle, and started peeling away one edge of the label. "That'd be a bit of a mind-fuck for him. Not quite the Trip he knows and loves." He looked up. With forced brightness, he said, "Oh, and by the way, the amulet is cursed." He shook his head. "He'd think I'd lost my mind."

Malcolm nodded. "I suppose he would."

Trip leaned across the table. "I'm not nuts."

"I didn't think that you were." Malcolm took a sip of the beer. "So why did you leave so suddenly?"

"Listen," Trip said, motioning with the bottle. "It's one thing if this is affecting me. It's another thing entirely when it almost kills one of my friends."

"Trip..." Malcolm said, trying to interrupt.

"I had to come down here, try to take care of this."

"And have you?"

"Not yet," Trip said, raising his bottle. "I wanted a bit of a drink first, in familiar surroundings. Shore up some false courage."

"And after that?"

Trip took a gulp from his bottle, finishing it. "Back to the Tiny Bubbles House. See if I can return that which is rightfully theirs."

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