Thank you all so much for your reviews.
x-x
Malcolm found himself lying on a bed in sickbay, the pain in his head gone. He sighed in relief, grateful for Phlox and his drugs, although he didn't remember the treatment itself. In fact, he didn't remember moving from the shuttle to sickbay.
It's fine, it doesn't matter, he thought, trying to control his building anxiety. I'm on Enterprise, and that has to be good. He turned onto his side, glimpsing himself as he rolled. He was in theatre whites - when had he undressed? He looked at his hands, now clean - when had he washed? How long had he been here?
He was missing time.
He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing, tamp down his anxiety. As he focused, he heard voices from across the room. First Phlox, his voice almost too quiet to hear, saying something about "hallucinations." Malcolm's eyes snapped open. He saw Trip and Phlox standing near the sickbay doors, and he clearly heard Trip's response, his friend obviously alarmed.
"I thought this type of mental illness was easily treatable."
Phlox nodded. "Yes, usually, but..." The doctor glanced in his direction and, noticing Malcolm staring at them, stopped talking. He directed his next comment to Malcolm. "Good to see you awake, Lieutenant," he said more loudly. "How are you feeling?"
Malcolm heard the buzz of the marketplace, and the sounds of falling rain. He found himself sitting on the low wall, under the shelter, completely drenched. He was staring out at the downpour. Turning to his right, he saw Malla there.
"Am I still here?" he asked.
"So far," she replied, patting his arm. "Don't worry; it's only been a few minutes." She smiled at him gently. "It's okay, I'll wait with you."
Malcolm found himself sitting on the biobed, Phlox's face in front of him. The doctor was looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for an answer.
Malcolm blinked against the bright lights, unsettled to find himself sitting. "Sorry?"
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm not sure." Looking over Phlox's shoulder, he spied Trip there, in uniform, his expression one of concern.
Malcolm shivered. "Cold, wet," he said softly. He looked around him, watching people pass in the marketplace, buying things, darting under tents as they tried to keep dry. "I haven't been able to get warm since I got here."
Malla nodded from her seat beside him. "I know. Although earlier the sun was nice."
Trip's voice came from nearby and Malcolm looked in that direction. His friend was now wearing civilian clothes, obviously off-duty, and he was talking to Phlox.
"Sometimes he seems so lucid," Trip said to Phlox. "Then he'll..."
"I'm not mad," Malcolm said, interrupting them in a soft voice. "I'm just, I'm not certain of where I am."
Trip turned to him. "You're on Enterprise."
"Time's passing oddly here," Malcolm replied. "Bits are missing."
Trip looked nervously at Phlox. "You're gonna be fine."
"I'm not fine," Malcolm said, his voice rising. "Time's gone wrong, and I'm not sure where I am." He dropped his voice to a tense whisper. "I'm afraid all this," he waved his hand around him, "is in my head."
"It's not," Trip said quickly.
"How can I know that?" Malcolm replied, his voice cracking. "Which one is real? This place, or the other?"
"You're becoming agitated," said Phlox.
"Wouldn't you be?" Malcolm replied, practically shouting. He tried to catch his breath, to calm himself, but he couldn't, he...
He saw Phlox come at him, a hypo in hand, and he jumped up from the bed. He took several steps backwards, watching as Phlox stopped moving towards him. Slowly, saying something that he couldn't catch, the doctor put the hypo down on a nearby table. Malcolm looked at Trip, over Phlox's shoulder, and saw the alarm in his friend's eyes. Then he watched his friend speak, his mouth moving, his words having no meaning, and then...
There was the sound of rain, and he felt the water coming down, drenching him.
His back hit the wall.
He watched as Trip looked to Phlox, who nodded, and then Trip began a slow approach towards Malcolm. Once standing in front of him, Trip began talking again. Malcolm tried to make sense of what he was saying, and finally caught up when Trip said, "...be all right, no one is here to hurt you."
"I think I'm seeing things," Malcolm said. "Are you really here?"
Trip nodded.
Malcolm whispered, "Is it raining?"
"No," Trip replied, also whispering. "You're on Enterprise."
"I thought that seemed a bit odd," Malcolm said with a choked laugh. "They said it would be hard coming back." He let himself slide down the wall, then sat, hunched over his knees, head down. "I'm not sure what's real."
Trip squatted down in front of him, and he heard Trip's voice. "You're sick."
Malcolm nodded. "I heard you speaking." He looked up at Trip. "You think I'm mad, hallucinating."
Trip frowned. "Maybe something like that. You caught a bug down on the surface. Phlox said that it triggered all this."
"Hell of a bug," Malcolm said, smiling slightly "When does Phlox think I'll be better?"
Trip tried to smile, but failed. "He's not sure. The meds seem to have knocked out the bug, but..."
"How long have I been back?"
"Four days."
Malcolm, surprised, asked, "How long was I gone?"
"About two weeks."
Malcolm sat there, numb. Almost three weeks, lost. It didn't seem possible. Taking a deep breath, he finally said, "Didn't seem that long. A couple days, just."
Trip looked clearly upset, and he reached forward and grabbed Malcolm's arm. "We'll help you get better."
"I'm sorry," Malcolm whispered, looking away from his friend.
Trip shifted and sat beside him, sliding an arm around his shoulders. "It's not your fault," he said.
Malcolm glanced up at Trip, and saw Malla there, beside him on the wall. "They think I'm crazy," he said.
She nodded. "Maybe you are." Then she smiled, and he laughed.
Malcolm felt a nudge at his shoulder.
Trip was peering at him intently, his eyes filled with worry. "Who are you talking to?"
"Malla, she's..." Malcolm shook his head. "It seems so real, when I'm there, but now..." he looked away from Trip, taking in the sickbay around them. "I'm confused. I'm not sure."
Trip, one arm still across his shoulders, took his hand and squeezed. "This is real," Trip said, shaking his hand gently. "I'm real."
Malcolm smiled. "I know you're real. I'm just not always certain about the rest of it."
x-x
Malcolm was sitting on his bed in sickbay, simply staring off into space, thinking. His head was certainly clearer today - Phlox's drugs were working wonders, it seemed. And the visions, if that's what they were, were gone. He smiled to himself. It had been days since he'd seen Malla, been to that other place.
He heard a noise and looked in that direction, seeing nothing that could have caused it. He shifted nervously on the bed. Despite Phlox's treatments, he still wasn't feeling certain that everything was as it should be. He felt edgy, anxious, slightly over-sensitive to everything around him, and he wasn't always sure of himself, of what he was seeing.
Sometimes he thought he was hearing rain, or would feel a chill despite the warmth of sickbay. At times, if he listened hard, he could hear the bustle of he marketplace. He shook his head violently, trying to clear his thoughts.
He wondered if he was still there. Maybe Malla was still sitting there, next to him.
Someone stepped beside his bed and he jumped, half-expecting to see Malla. It was Trip, so he smiled. Trip started speaking, and Malcolm stared at his friend, realising that he had no idea what Trip was saying.
Malcolm sighed. It wasn't that unusual. Since he'd gotten back, he'd occasionally have times like this, where he'd have trouble following what was going on, or understanding what people were saying. He calmly watched Trip as his friend spoke, and smiled slightly. It was strange what one could become used to.
He watched as Trip settled himself in the chair by his bedside. Even with everything that had happened, he was glad that he'd come back; if for nothing else, than for this: for friends who'd stay at his side even if he'd gone mad, who'd sit there and hold a conversation with him, even if he didn't have enough sanity left to participate.
x-x
Malcolm stood at the sink in his lavatory, staring at his reflection in the mirror above it. It was his first day out of sickbay - Phlox had finally released him, although he was off-duty for the foreseeable future.
Since he'd been back on Enterprise, his visions had gradually faded, and were now gone. He shook his head. Visions, he thought. He still wasn't sure if that was the best term - they'd seemed real at the time, just as real as being here. But now, looking back, it all seemed so dream-like, and Phlox had said...
He stared into his own eyes, taking in his appearance: gaunt, pale, eyes shadowed. He seemed haunted. He splashed water on his face and looked away.
He felt his stomach rumble and glanced at the clock. Dinner in the mess had begun well over an hour ago, but he'd been avoiding it. He had to admit, he was too embarrassed to go out and face everyone, after all this. He wasn't even sure what they knew, what they'd seen; what he'd done, or said, whilst...He wiped his face with his towel, tossing it back onto the rack. Damn it, he was hungry, but he couldn't walk in there alone. That'd be a bit too much.
His door chimed and he looked at it in surprise. Striding to it, he triggered it open, revealing Trip there, in uniform. Malcolm glanced down at himself self-consciously. Although he was in casual clothes, at least he wasn't in his sickbay garb any longer.
Trip smiled. "Dinner?"
Malcolm winced. "I'm not...", he said, trailing off at the end.
Trip dropped his smile. "It's all right," he said, lowering his voice. "Come with me. It'll be okay."
Malcolm nodded hesitantly, then followed Trip out into the corridor.
Malcolm saw a crewman approaching them from the opposite direction, and was relieved when the man passed them with barely a nod. Malcolm let out a rough breath.
"You okay?" Trip asked.
"Sorry," Malcolm said. "Feeling a bit nervous."
Trip nodded. "It must be weird."
"Yes," Malcolm replied, unsure of what to say.
Trip stopped walking and turned, facing him. "Listen, we don't have to do this. I can grab some food, meet you in your cabin."
Malcolm shook his head. "No. It's time things went back to normal." He started walking again, and Trip hustled to reach his side.
"Are you feeling normal, though?"
Malcolm glanced at his friend. "Why?"
"Because you're practically running down this hall."
Malcolm stopped in his tracks, staring at Trip, who was looking at him expectantly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I am feeling...better, more grounded. But..."
"Yes?" asked Trip.
"Not normal, no," Malcolm said. "Blurry, lethargic..."
"From the illness?"
"Or from Phlox's treatments - I'm not sure." Malcolm started walking again, this time at a slower pace. "Nervous."
"That's understandable," Trip said as they reached the doors to the mess. "Ready?"
Malcolm raised one eyebrow, ala T'Pol. "I suppose so."
Triggering the doors, they entered. Malcolm looked around him - this late in the dinner hour, the place wasn't as crowded as usual, for which he was grateful. Moving to the serving line, he blindly chose the first items in the row, then turned towards the room, heart pounding. From a nearby table, he noticed Travis and Hoshi waving him over.
Trip stepped to his side. "You okay?"
Malcolm gave him a tight nod.
"Breathe, Malcolm," Trip said with a smile.
Malcolm exhaled. "Right. Thank you."
They joined Travis and Hoshi, and Malcolm was pleased to find that they treated him just as they used to, although there were the initial questions about his health, which he brushed off with his usual, "Fine," and some polite chatter. As the meal progressed, conversation ranged from recent movie nights to books to past first contacts, and he started to relax. Maybe I will be able to get my life back, he thought.
"So, when can you go back to work?" Travis asked, finishing off the last of his meal and beginning to gather his plates together.
Malcolm smiled. "I asked Phlox that that question this very morning. Another week or so, if all goes well."
After Hoshi and Travis had left the table, Trip leaned towards him. "So, you could be back on duty next week, maybe?"
"He's started lowering my doses already." Malcolm said, nodding. "He said that I first have to taper off the drugs, see if I remain stable. Then we'll know."
x-x
Malcolm woke in darkness. That was odd, he thought. He usually kept a light on, very dim, since his cabin had no exterior window. He must have forgotten before he went to bed.
Hearing shuffling from nearby, he tensed, then reached for the light. Someone grabbed his hand. He tried to jerk away, but felt someone pull him by the arm, through what felt like fabric, leaving a trail of blankets behind him. Malcolm stumbled and tried to strike out, but missed his attacker in the darkness.
A light flashed on, blinding him, and he heard shouts, voices. He squinted, almost blinded by the torch, and he saw a man looming over him, the light glinting off his horn, eyes wild. In a sudden movement, the man swung his arm down, striking Malcolm in the side, and then across his ribs. Malcolm felt a flash of pain, then a coldness where the man touched him. In shock, unable to hold himself up, Malcolm fell.
Malcolm felt warmth along his side, and he curled in around himself on the floor. Numb, he heard someone yelling, and watched the bustle of feet moving across his vision. Something was wrong.
Someone moved in front of him, and Malla's face filled his vision.
"Am I hurt?" he asked, surprised that his voice was so weak.
Malla nodded. "Someone attacked you while we were sleeping," she said. "One of the ill ones."
Malcolm could see that her eyes were scared; in fact she looked somewhat frantic. Oddly calm, he felt someone press something against his side, heard the buzz of voices swirling around him. There was movement behind Malla, but he couldn't make it out.
"I was on Enterprise," he said.
Malla looked at him strangely.
"How did I get back here?"
"You haven't left yet." She looked up as someone approached. That person knelt beside her, and Malcolm felt more pressure on his side. "We just got back from market a couple hours ago," she said.
Malcolm tried to nod, but closed his eyes instead. "I'm cold."
He could hear Malla's voice. "You're always cold." He heard her give a choked cry, and he tried to say that everything would be fine, but he heard another voice that sounded like Trip, calling his name, and he drifted, and dreamed of lights overhead, passing quickly, and Trip's face nearby, and one of Phlox's medics. He thought he heard the captain asking what had happened, then Trip saying he wasn't sure.
Malcolm closed his eyes. The streaking lights were making him dizzy.
The voices started coming clearer.
"We'd been supposed to meet for breakfast, but he was late." That was Trip, his accent strong, all broad vowels and hard "R's", like it got when he was upset. "When he didn't respond to his chime, I went in. He was standing there, struggling in the dark. By the time I reached him, he was on the floor, bleeding."
"Did he do this to himself?" That was the captain.
"I don't see how he could have." That was Trip again. "I didn't see a weapon. He was just, he was okay one minute, sorta, then the next, he was there, bleeding."
Malcolm heard doors open, and Phlox's voice. He lost track of the conversation, the words a jumble of sound, noise, and too loud, now. He felt himself tugged sharply and tried to struggle, to push hands away, to get them to stop the bother, because he was so tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep.
He felt a pain so sharp that it made him gasp, and his eyes flashed open.
Trip was there, standing over him, his face a mask of concern.
He closed his eyes, and there was nothing.
x-x
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