A/N: Ha! The end is nigh. This is a short chapter, so I'm posting two at once - the next one is the last. So, I owe many thanks and much appreciation to: Spydur1 (I'm glad you're enjoying this) firebirdgirl (thanks for reading & reviewing) elbcw (hold on to your seat and enjoy the next two chapters) Antares Star (thank you for the kind words - I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic) JennMel (Two chapters, both togather - I quit the cliffhangers, but only for this fic!) Exploded Pen (Hope you have a great holiday - here are the last two chapters, especially for you!) and, of course, The Libran Iniquity (Now, you will be there to see that particular conversation, because, well, here it is...Enjoy!)

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

Chapter Seven

To Archer, it felt like it took hours for him to kick free of the chair, get down beside the Klingon, locate a knife and cut away his wrist bonds, but in fact it was mere seconds. He severed the tie around Phlox's wrists, and the doctor was immediately beside Malcolm Reed, applying pressure to the wound and checking vitals. Torn between his duty and his wish to check on the lieutenant, Archer opted for duty, cutting the others free, and calling for a medical team. He dismissed the rest of the crew to find and free their crewmates, before finally returning to Lt. Reed.

"There's a medical team on the way," he said, crouching down opposite to Phlox, "how's he doing?"

"The knife missed his heart, barely," the doctor replied, grimly, "but his lung is punctured and filling up with blood – it's in danger of collapse. He's rapidly going into shock and he's loosing a lot of blood. I need to get him to surgery, immediately!"

"Poor bastard," Hogan murmured.

Suddenly, Archer was aware that Admiral Reed had moved, and was kneeling down beside him. Wordlessly, Archer moved aside slightly, as the lieutenant's eyes flickered open, and he managed to focus.

"S-sir…?"

For a moment, Archer though Reed was referring to him, but the Admiral nodded slowly.

"I'm here, Malcolm."

"I'm…s-sorry…"

"No, Malcolm. I'm sorry. I'm…I'm proud of you, son…"

There was blood seeping from the corner of the lieutenant's mouth, but the admiral ignored it, reaching down and supporting his son's head with one hand, the other gripping his arm tightly.

"Fight it, son," he whispered, "please…"

"C-can't…" Malcolm's face twisted in pain.

"The medical team will be here soon," Phlox was saying, his hands covered in blood.

There seemed to be blood everywhere, to Archer; so much of it, even on his own hands…suddenly, the lieutenant began to cough, as blood welled up from his mouth, and Archer drew back in horror. The thought occurred to him that he was about to watch a man die, when the medical team arrived. Malcolm was loaded onto a gurney, and whisked away, leaving a stunned group of four. Hogan was shaking her head slowly.

"I've never…I don't…Jon, I'm sorry…"

"He'll be fine," Archer interrupted, decisively, "Phlox is an excellent doctor; the best. He wouldn't be on this ship otherwise."

Trip had gone white, and he was shaking slightly.

"Jon, I want to go down there…"

"Negative," Archer replied, quickly, "let Phlox do his work…our first duty is to the ship and the rest of the crew. Get down to engineering – I need to get to the bridge and take command again…General, I…"

"I'll guard the Klingon," Hogan cut in, picking up the phase pistol Reed had dropped, "send a security team down in your own time."

"Captain," Admiral Reed spoke up, in a soft voice, "with your permission I…I would like to wait in sickbay. I wish to stay with lieutenant…I wish to stay with my son."

"Of course, Admiral," Archer nodded, quietly, "this way…"

---

Archer escorted the senior Reed to sickbay, finding Phlox had already begun emergency surgery. He went straight to the bridge, where he found that T'Pol had taken command, apparently none the worse for wear after being stunned and locked up. Hoshi and Travis were at their posts, and both were delighted to see him.

"I assume that lieutenant Reed was successful in apprehending the Klingon?" T'Pol noted, vacating the command chair.

Archer sighed, and caught the back of the chair, not sitting down.

"I have some…bad news," he said, slowly, glancing at each of them, "Malcolm was injured…stabbed…by the Klingon. He's in surgery now…he's in a pretty bad way."

There was a long pause, as Hoshi and Travis exchanged glances.

"How bad?" Hoshi asked, at length.

The look on Archer's face said it all.

---

The next eight hours flew by. They grouped together the four pirates, ready to be transferred off the ship upon arrival at Vulcan for transportation to the nearest penal colony. The crew was released from captivity, and slowly, life on the ship returned to normal.

In sickbay, Phlox emerged from surgery, glad he had thought to shed his bloodstained gloves and gown before doing so; Admiral Reed had remained in sickbay since the incident, sitting silently in the corner stiffly, his expression impassive. Upon sight of Phlox, he got to his feet, and stood to attention.

"Admiral," Phlox said, in measured tones, "the operation was successful; I have repaired and re-inflated the damaged lung, but there were…complications."

"Be specific, please."

"The lieutenant had to be resuscitated twice," Phlox replied, uncomfortable with the Admiral's cold demeanour, "he lost a lot of blood and he is very weak…"

"What are his chances?"

Phlox hesitated, and opted for blunt honesty.

"I would say, if he makes it through the night, then his chances of survival are good," he said, at last, "but that is down to lieutenant Reed."

"Very well. Thank you, doctor."

Stuart Reed turned away from the doctor, and pulled his chair up beside Malcolm's bed. He glanced down at the pale features of his son, sat down, and waited.