Title: Thursday's Child

Author: Sita Z

Rating: T

AN: Thanks for the feedback, everyone!

BananaTrip (I guess they're going to get into a little trouble themselves...), Trips Girl (yes, he did give in quite easily, that's right. On the other hand, T'Pol can be quite intimidating... Good to hear L.C. liked Chapter 18... if his purring was any indication ;) ), Gabi (Ja, das wäre eine nette Geschichte für sich, allerdings sollte Trip nicht im Wachkoma liegen. Dann könnten sie sich ja gar nicht gegenseitig das Leben schwermachen, und das wäre ja der Witz dabei ;) ), The Libran Iniquity (Mindless cartoons? Malcolm and T'Pol playing poker...hmmm... good idea ;) ), Tata (That's right, T'Pol's going to have to figure something out... and we'll see about Skitra!), volley (thank you, and I agree with you about the hair wash ;) ), JadziaKathryn (yes, two stubborn Vulcans...no, wait, make that three... should be interesting), stage manager (here goes ;)...), trisuns5 (You're very welcome, and I'd like to say thank you myself for letting me know what you think! Keep thinking happy thoughts - it sure worked for Malcolm, didn't it ;)?), MuseUrania (It's always nice to hear I was able to surprise someone... keep telling me what you think!), Emiliana Keladry (Yes, trust a Vulcan to have an ace up his sleeve... thanks for reviewing!), Maraschino (And it's about time they do, I hate for the boys to be away from their ship...), firebirdgirl (Hope you had a nice vacation! Thanks for reviewing three chapters in one go... no cliffie in this one, I promise! ;) ), Exploded Pen ("Kooky old Vulcan" sounds just about right ;) ), RoaringMice ( Thank you! Yes, he might be...), JennMel (They're not -that- bad, are they ;)?)

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Chapter 19

His mind in a daze, Malcolm steered the shuttle out of Wildfire's hangar bay and set a course for Enterprise. In the back, he could hear Skitra talking softly to Trip, his voice too low for Malcolm to understand what he was saying. He bit the inside of his lip, forcing himself to focus on the controls. Skitra's analgesic had taken care of the pain, but it hadn't been able to touch the deep exhaustion at the core of Malcolm's mind, and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

So Skitra had known about their little mix-up comedy. Or had found out when Trip was transferred to the IC unit. Then why hadn't he informed his captain? Or at least told Malcolm that he knew what Trip had done?

Malcolm punched away at the controls to keep himself awake. In the end, it didn't really matter what Skitra knew or what he had told his captain. It didn't even matter that Enterprise had come. Instead of elation, Malcolm only experienced sadness and a touch of anger at the idea that his colleagues had given up their careers for nothing. Their rescue only gave him a small reprieve before Joint Forces Command put an end to the thing, arresting him as soon as Enterprise reached Earth and injecting him with the stuff that was going to wipe out his mind.

At least you're going to have yourself a roommate in that nursing home, Trip, Malcolm thought, a crazy part of his mind giggling madly at the idea. Always look on the bright side of things.

"Lieutenant!"

Skitra's voice cut through his wayward thoughts, and Malcolm startled.

"I believe Enterprise is hailing us," the doctor continued. "We should answer before they get suspicious."

Looking down at the navigation board, Malcolm saw a blinking green light that indicated an incoming call. He pressed a button.

"Reed here."

"This is Captain T'Pol," a familiar voice came through the speaker. "We have scanned a third bio sign on your vessel."

Malcolm heard the mute question in her voice.

"It's alright, Captain," he said. "Dr. Skitra's knows what's going on. He's on our side." I hope, he added in thought.

The old Vulcan had left his place on the rear bench, stepping up to the comm console.

"Captain, I assure you I am only here to get your men back to safety," he said. "I'd appreciate it if you allowed me to come aboard your ship. There is something we need to discuss."

T'Pol paused for a second, and Malcolm could practically see her eyebrow twitch just the tiniest bit.

"Very well," she said then. "Lieutenant, are you sure you are well?"

Actually, I feel like someone scoured the inside of my skull with a wire sponge. Malcolm bit his lip. He knew T'Pol wasn't only asking about his well-being; her emphatic tone told him that she still had her doubts about Skitra's presence, and wanted to know if he could be trusted.

"Everything's fine, Captain," he answered. "Permission to come aboard, ma'am?"

This time she did not hesitate. "Permission granted, Lieutenant."

The channel closed, and Malcolm felt a hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

"If I may say so, Lieutenant, you do not look well. Do you need another analgesic?"

Malcolm shook his head. His thoughts were fuzzy enough as it was, not to speak of the distracting noise at the back of his mind that seemed to grow louder and die away like a mad siren only he could hear. "Thanks, doc, but I'd rather go without."

"As you wish."

Nevertheless, the doctor kept hovering next to his chair, watching him closely. Malcolm wanted to tell him that he should go and look after Trip, but he didn't trust himself to speak and navigate at the same time. He went through the familiar docking maneuvers like an automaton, barely finding the strength to feel relieved when he felt the grip arm latch on to the shuttle's outer hull to pull them into the hangar. The controls merged to a mass of blinking lights before his eyes, and he had to blink hard to regain a clear vision.

"Lieutenant..."

Malcolm shook his head, brushing off the doctor's hand. Not another bloody injection, his brain felt like a big pile of mush as it was.

A shudder ran through the shuttle, and he swayed in his chair. Somewhere, a klaxon sounded, announcing that the hangar had filled with air again. Malcolm heard Skitra talking and realized that the doctor had returned to the rear benches, calming Trip who seemed agitated by the noise and changed surroundings.

"It's alright," he heard him say. "Nothing to worry about..."

The buzzing at the back of his mind was steadily increasing in volume, and Malcolm could barely make out the doctor's words through the noise.

"Come... don't... it's alright..."

Then the hatch opened and Skitra turned around, straightening himself up. "Captain T'Pol."

Malcolm blearily stared at him, his mind refusing to make sense of what was going on. The Captain. Yes, that was right. She had come to meet them. Needed his report.

With a tremendous effort, he managed to push himself into a standing position. A second or two he swayed, threatening to fall back into his chair, but in the end he managed to stay upright. Taking slow, tiny steps, he made his way to the open hatch. Archer and T'Pol were standing next to the shuttle, the Captain's eyebrows rising when she caught sight of him.

"Lieutenant," she said.

"Captain." Malcolm pulled his face into what felt like a painful grimace. "It's good to be back."

He swayed again, the noise in his head rising to an unbearable drone. Then, all of a sudden, the hangar floor seemed to rush towards him, and Malcolm was barely aware of Archer's arms catching him before the world around him dissolved into nothingness.

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He woke to the sound of low voices talking nearby. His body seemed to be floating on air, a sure sign that he had several dozen milligrams of potent painkiller in his bloodstream. Malcolm kept his eyes closed, bathing in the feeling of being completely pain free for the first time in days. He supposed that there were at least two or three gruesome alien creatures working their healing effect on him right now, but, unlike Dr. Skitra, Phlox did believe in the usefulness of analgesics.

Malcolm couldn't remember being taken to sickbay, but he surmised that he must have passed out at some point. He did remember flying back to Enterprise... something about Skitra and Trip... but he couldn't recall exactly what had happened. Very likely it was something he should worry about, but his sleepy brain refused even the notion of wearing itself out trying to remember. No, all he wanted to do was rest... float in this wonderful state of pain free drowsiness and think of absolutely nothing at all.

The voices grew louder, and Malcolm wished they would go away. He couldn't go back to sleep if they kept talking; the noise broke through his weariness and pulled him back to reality. And reality was a place he was planning to avoid for at least another few hours.

"...is awake."

Malcolm caught the end of Phlox's sentence, and sighed.

No, he thought, I'm not awake. And I don't want to open my eyes. Or move. Or talk. I only want to go back to sleep.

Steps came closer, and the curtain rustled when someone pulled it aside. Malcolm breathed deeply and evenly, his eyes still closed, knowing fully well that he couldn't fool Phlox. After all those years, the doctor knew all the little tricks in Malcolm's book, and vice versa.

"Lieutenant, I know that you aren't sleeping."

Well, a man can try, can't he.

Reluctantly, Malcolm opened his eyes and blinked when he saw one Denobulan and two Vulcan faces staring down at him. Phlox smiled, his strange bright eyes alight with amusement.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant."

Malcolm licked his lips, only now realizing how dry and cracked they felt. He cleared his throat.

"Captain," he said. His voice sounded as if he were just recovering from a weeklong head cold. "Doctors. I'm sorry."

He wasn't quite sure what exactly he was apologizing for, but for some reason felt that an apology was in order. Maybe it was the worried expression in T'Pol's eyes.

The Captain glanced at Phlox. "Doctor?"

"Don't worry, Captain." The Denobulan smiled. "I believe the Lieutenant is still somewhat out of it, but he should be returning to full awareness within the next few minutes. The analgesics," he added unnecessarily.

"I'm afraid the exertions of the last few hours have weakened Lieutenant Reed's condition even further," Skitra joined in from the other side of the bed. "I regret putting him under such stress, but there was no one else to pilot the shuttle."

Malcolm didn't catch Phlox's answer, frowning as he tried to drag his gray cells out of the haze of sedation. Skitra calling him "Lieutenant Reed" was wrong; come to think of it, the mere fact that the Vulcan doctor was here on Enterprise was not right. And while he was at it...

"Where's Trip, Captain? What..." His voice failed, and he coughed. "What's going on?"

T'Pol's left eyebrow rose a few millimeters. "Maybe explanations should wait until you are feeling better, Lieutenant."

Malcolm shook his head. "No disrespect, ma'am, but I'd like to know what's going on. Why isn't Dr. Skitra back on his ship?"

"Because I'd very likely find myself under arrest if I were to return to the Wildfire," Skitra answered, seeming unperturbed by the idea. "I'm grateful that Captain T'Pol allowed me to stay. I must say, it is rather refreshing to be in a sickbay that is equipped with more than three bio beds."

Phlox beamed, obviously sympathizing with his fellow doctor's enthusiasm. Malcolm frowned and decided to stick with simple matters for the moment.

"Where's Trip, doctor? Is he alright?"

"But of course, Lieutenant. Do not worry yourself."

The Denobulan pulled back the privacy curtain around Malcolm's bed, then walked over to the adjoining bed and opened its curtains as well.

"He's right here, sleeping."

Malcolm craned his neck, feeling his stiff muscles protest as he did so. Trip was indeed sleeping; his head was slightly turned to one side, his face relaxed, hands resting on the pale blue blanket he was covered with. A sting went through Malcolm's chest at the peaceful sight. Sleeping, Trip looked as if there were nothing wrong with him at all.

"He should be waking up in about forty-eight hours," he heard Skitra say. "As I said, the procedure is going to take a while."

"Of course." Phlox didn't seem to find anything unusual about the Vulcan's remark. Only then did Malcolm notice the two tiny scanning devices on Trip's forehead, and the thin tubes leading away from his arms to a device next to the bed. The liquid inside the tubes was red.

Malcolm tried to push himself into a sitting position, ignoring his weary body as it protested against the movement. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Will someone finally tell me what's going on?"

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant." T'Pol reached out and adjusted the bed so Malcolm sat propped up, supported by the mattress. "There is no need to become agitated." She exchanged a look with the Vulcan doctor. "I believe Dr. Skitra can answer at least a few of your questions."

"Indeed." Skitra clasped his hands behind his back. "Lieutenant, I believe I owe you an explanation. Several of them, to be exact."

No kidding. Malcolm bit down on his lips before the words could slip out, and waited for the doctor to continue.

"You will have come to the conclusion, Lieutenant, that it was me whom Captain Patricks ordered to give Mr. Tucker the injection."

Malcolm nodded. He had no idea what the doctor was getting at.

"When the Captain first informed me of my orders, I told him that as a Vulcan and a Healer I could not perform that kind of procedure. He would not listen to me, though, and so I saw only one logical way of action."

"You gave him the injection, I know." Malcolm pressed his lips together. He wasn't in the mood to listen to long-winded explanations or excuses.

Skitra's eyebrows twitched. "I said logical way of action, Lieutenant. Obviously, I had to find another way of carrying out the Captain's orders without compromising my professional ethics."

Malcolm stared at him. "What... what did you do?"

"There is a substance very similar to the one I was supposed to use, a Vulcan phytotoxin. Like the actual poison, it causes amnesia and a catatonia-like stupor, but only temporarily so. How long the patient remains without memory depends on the dose he or she is given. I wasn't really sure how a human metabolism would react, but I did not have time to do any extended research. There should not be any problems, however. Except for a few minor indispositions, I expect Mr. Tucker to be up and about within a few days."

Malcolm said nothing, trying to reassemble Skitra's words in his head until they made some sense. Trip wasn't going to be "up and about" - how could he? His mind was gone, destroyed by the poison.

"How?" Malcolm asked. "I mean, how can you know that?"

Skitra raised an eyebrow. "I may safely assume, I hope, that you are not doubting my medical expertise, Lieutenant? As I said, the symptoms are only temporary. The effects of the injection were already beginning to wear off when we boarded the shuttle, so it was high time that we left."

Malcolm looked over at Trip. More than anything else, he wanted to believe Skitra - Trip had been different when Malcolm had seen him before the flight, that was for sure. Still, after the endless days on the Joint Forces vessel, chained to his bed or a chair and watching Trip being cared for by the nurses, the doctor's words seemed like a cruel joke.

"I don't understand," he said. "I..." He trailed off, not sure what he had been about to say. For some reason, Phlox was smiling down at him, and Malcolm felt a pang of anger. There they were, grinning and saying things like "professional ethics" and "temporary symptoms", as if it were only a big joke to them. As if the last few days had never happened at all. A flick of Skitra's magic wand, and everything was all right. Silly him, to worry about Trip and tear himself apart because he had ruined another person's life. It's only temporary, you see, Lieutenant? Fooled you, didn't we?

"If that's true-" His voice failed, and he had to swallow before he could continue. "If that's true, then why didn't you tell me? Why did you leave me thinking that he was..." He couldn't go on, and turned his face away.

"Lieutenant." Skitra's voice had become very gentle. "I understand that you are upset. But I couldn't risk telling anyone, not even you or Nurse Chang. It would have been to dangerous."

Malcolm gave no answer, still facing away from the group assembled around his bed. He remembered how empty Trip's eyes had been, the very essence erased from their depths. Now, looking at the sleeping man in the bed next to his, he felt a flicker of hope surface within his mind. If Skitra was telling the truth - and why shouldn't he be, why not indeed - then Trip was going to wake up again. Really wake up instead of simply returning to consciousness.

Something warm trickled down his cheek, and Malcolm raised a hand to wipe it off without realizing what he was doing.

"What... what are those tubes for?" he asked. He had to be absolutely sure that Trip was going to be fine.

"They're filtering the last remains of the toxin out of Mr. Tucker's blood," Skitra answered. "It will speed up the recovery process."

Malcolm said nothing. He couldn't think of anything to say. Somewhere above his head, he heard T'Pol's voice, although he wasn't really listening to what she was saying.

"I'm curious, doctor. What if the toxin had worn off while Mr. Tucker was still in your sickbay?"

"In that case, I would have had no choice but to trust in Mr. Tucker's acting abilities. It would have been difficult, though. I am glad you arrived when you did, Captain."

"Captain," Phlox interrupted, and Malcolm turned his head back to find the Denobulan doctor watching him worriedly. "I believe we should continue this conversation at another time. The Lieutenant needs rest."

T'Pol bowed her head. "Of course, doctor."

She turned around, but before she could leave Malcolm called her back. "Captain!"

T'Pol turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "You heard the doctor, Lieutenant. You should rest."

Malcolm swallowed. "What about Enterprise, ma'am? Are we...?" ... on the run, he had wanted to say, but for some reason the words wouldn't come out.

"We are on our way to Earth," T'Pol said calmly. "Do not worry, Lieutenant. I will explain everything in detail when you are feeling better."

Her tone allowed no argument. Malcolm watched the sickbay doors close behind her, feeling somewhat left out. It seemed that everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, but couldn't be bothered to tell him. He looked up at Phlox, who was still wearing his "feeling-better-already-aren't-we" smile.

"Doctor?"

"Like the Captain said, Lieutenant. You are in dire need of rest, and I suggest that you go back to sleep. I wouldn't want to give you any more sedatives."

"On the other hand," Skitra said, regarding Malcolm thoughtfully, "I find it quite effective to keep my patients sedated most of the time."

"Do you?" Phlox asked, with the air of a man who has suddenly gained a completely new perspective. Both doctors scrutinized him in a way that Malcolm found to be slightly unnerving.

"Actually, I would not have been able to finish my paper on the Tyrellian influenza if I had not kept my patients quiet and compliant."

Phlox considered, his round face assuming a dreamy expression. "Well, if you put it that way..."

Malcolm swallowed nervously. "If you don't mind, doctor, I'd rather try and go to sleep on my own."

Phlox raised his eyebrows. "If you insist..."

Malcolm nodded quickly, and, to demonstrate his good intentions, lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Very well. I'll be back later to check on you, Lieutenant."

Malcolm risked a peek to check if they had really gone, and saw Phlox drawing the curtain close, exchanging a knowing smile with the Vulcan doctor as he did so.

Two bloody quacks, Malcolm thought, quickly closing his eyes again before either of the doctors could catch him not resting. That's all we needed.

But he couldn't find it within him to feel really annoyed. Actually, Malcolm noticed as he began to drift off to sleep, for the first time in weeks he found himself feeling strangely... happy.

TBC...

Please let me know what you think!